14. Xavier #2
"I had rules. I wasn't supposed to—it doesn't matter.
He was charming and persistent and I was lonely and I let myself believe that maybe...
" She shook her head. "We were together for two years.
On and off. Mostly off. He'd disappear for weeks at a time, then show up with flowers and apologies and I'd take him back because I wanted it to work. I wanted someone to stay."
The words came faster now, tumbling out like she couldn't hold them back anymore.
"When I found out I was pregnant, I thought—" Her voice cracked. She pressed her hand to her mouth, steadying herself. "I thought he'd be happy. I thought maybe this would be the thing that made him stay. Made him real." A bitter laugh escaped her. "I was an idiot."
"Kim—"
"He told me to get rid of it." The words hung in the air between us, sharp as broken glass.
"The baby. He said it wasn't the right time, that he wasn't ready, that I'd ruined everything by being careless.
Then he left. Packed his bags and disappeared, and I never heard from him again until—" She gestured vaguely. "Until he walked into your office."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. All I could do was look at this woman—this incredible, strong, broken woman—and feel the rage building in my chest.
"Zoe doesn't know." Kim's voice was barely above a whisper now. "She's never asked about her father. I think she's afraid of the answer. And I'm afraid to give it to her because what do I say? Your dad didn't want you? Your dad told me to—"
She broke off, pressing her palms to her eyes.
I reached out. Touched her cheek, gently turning her face toward me.
"I'm not him," I said. "You know that, right?"
Her eyes met mine. Wet. Wounded. But something else was there, too—hope, maybe, fragile and terrified.
"I know," she whispered.
I kissed her.
Not like before. Not desperate or hungry or testing boundaries. This kiss was soft. Careful. A promise more than a demand.
She kissed me back.
Her hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, her lips parting under mine, and suddenly, soft and careful wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed everything.
I pulled back, breathing hard. "I should stop."
"Why?"
"Because if I don't stop now, I won't be able to." I pressed my forehead to hers. "And I don't want to rush you. I don't want you to regret—"
Kim grabbed my face and kissed me again. Hard. Demanding. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark, her breathing uneven.
"Never," she said. "Don't you dare stop."
So I didn't.
I lowered her onto the plastic-wrapped bed, covering her body with mine. Her sundress hiked up as I settled between her thighs, and she gasped against my mouth, arching into me.
"Is this okay?" I asked, my hand hovering at the hem of her dress.
"Yes."
"And this?" My fingers traced higher, finding warm skin.
"Yes. Xavier, please—"
I kissed her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above the neckline of her dress. Every touch drew a sound from her—a gasp, a moan, a whispered version of my name that made me harder than I'd ever been in my life.
This was different. Everything about this was different.
Before, it had been about the chase. The conquest. The fleeting pleasure of bodies moving together with no meaning behind it.
With Kim, every touch meant something. Every kiss was a conversation. Every moment was building toward something I'd never experienced before—connection, maybe. Or something deeper. Something I didn't have a name for yet.
I took my time. Learned the map of her body, the places that made her shiver, the spots that made her cry out. When I finally sank into her, she wrapped her legs around me and held on, and I understood with sudden, terrifying clarity that I was never going to be the same after this.
She was everything. She was everything, and I hadn't even known I was looking for her.
Afterward, we lay tangled together on the plastic-wrapped bed, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. Kim's head was on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my stomach.
"We should probably—" she started.
Then we both looked at the clock on the wall.
"Oh shit."
Dinner. Dinner with my family. Dinner with my family had started twenty minutes ago.
We scrambled off the bed, grabbing clothes, trying to make ourselves presentable. Kim's dress was wrinkled beyond repair. My shirt had somehow lost two buttons. Her hair was a disaster, and I was pretty sure I had lipstick on my neck.
"This is fine," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "We'll just say we got lost."
"We'll say we got lost," Kim repeated flatly. "In a hotel your brother built."
"Stranger things have happened."
We power-walked back to the main building, trying to smooth clothes and fix hair as we went. By the time we reached the restaurant, we were only thirty-five minutes late.
And we looked exactly like what we were: two people who'd just had sex in an unfinished hotel room.
Every head at the family table turned when we walked in.
Grandmother's eyebrows rose slowly toward her hairline.
Helena pressed her napkin to her lips, hiding what was probably a smile.
Sebastian's expression was unreadable, but Aria beside him was definitely fighting a grin.
Isabelle didn't even try to hide her amusement—she lifted her wine glass in a silent toast.
And Evie, bless her, was too busy showing Zoe pictures on her phone to notice anything.
"Traffic," I said, pulling out Kim's chair. "Terrible. Really terrible traffic."
"On the walking path?" Sebastian asked mildly.
"You'd be surprised."
Kim sat down, her cheeks flaming. I took the seat beside her, letting my hand find her knee under the table. She jumped slightly, then relaxed, her fingers interlacing with mine.
"Well," Grandmother said, her eyes twinkling. "I'm glad you could join us. You both look very... refreshed."
"Eleanor!” Helena murmured.
"What? I'm simply observing."
The meal proceeded. Courses came and went. Conversation flowed around us—business talk, vacation plans, Zoe's animated recounting of her starfish adventure with Evie. I kept my hand on Kim's knee, grounding myself in her presence.
Then I saw Cole approaching the table.
He'd been seated across the restaurant—investor relations, Sebastian had explained, waving vaguely toward a group of suits by the window. But now he was walking toward us with purpose, his eyes fixed on Kim.
No. Not on Kim.
On Zoe.
"Good evening," Cole said smoothly, stopping beside our table. His gaze lingered on Zoe, something hungry in his expression. "I don't believe I've been properly introduced to this little princess."
Zoe looked up from her phone, curious. "I'm Zoe."
"Hello, Zoe." Cole crouched down to her level, that charming smile firmly in place. "That's a very pretty name. How old are you?"
"I'm five."
Something flickered across Cole's face. Recognition. Calculation.
Six years since he'd left Kim. Five-year-old daughter. The math was easy, and he was clearly doing it.
I moved before I could think. Stood, positioning myself between Cole and the table. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Matthews?"
Cole straightened, meeting my eyes. "Just being friendly."
"My grandmother prefers to keep dinner conversations among family." I kept my voice pleasant. Neutral. The kind of neutral that made it clear this wasn't a request. "I'm sure you understand."
A beat of silence. Cole's jaw tightened, but he nodded once. "Of course. My apologies for the intrusion."
He walked back to his table.
I sat down.
The family was watching me. I could feel their questions, their confusion. Sebastian's eyes were narrowed, assessing. Grandmother's expression had sharpened. Even Isabelle had lowered her phone.
Kim's hand found mine under the table and squeezed.
I didn't explain. Didn't offer excuses or context. Let them wonder.
All I knew was that Cole Matthews had looked at Zoe like she was something he wanted to claim. Like a possession. Like leverage.
I would throw myself off a cliff before I let that happen.
Whatever this was between me and Kim—real or fake, temporary or permanent—protecting her and Zoe was the one thing I was absolutely certain about.
I would keep them safe.
No matter what.