Chapter Eighty
Ruby
Xavier shuts the door behind us, the click of the door and locks settling into the space. Squirt lifts his head from his bed, gives a low grunt, then flops back down with a heavy exhale.
I kick off my boots and set my purse on the chair.
“Your friends took it well.” Xavier crosses into the kitchen.
“Eventually.” I follow behind him.
Bella’s hug. Emily’s excitement. The way they looked at me like I should’ve told them sooner.
I lean against the counter as he grabs two glasses and fills them with wine, sliding one toward me.
“They're proud of you.”
I glance up at him. He means it. “You are too.”
It's not a question.
He nods once. “Yeah, I am.”
I wrap my hands around the cool glass.
My stomach wooshes at the thought of putting anything else into it. I haven’t eaten that much in one night in weeks. Months maybe. I set it back onto the counter as silence stretches between us.
He cocks his head. “You know what your problem is?”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re about to say something annoying, aren’t you?”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Probably.”
“Good. I was worried we’d gone too long without you irritating me.”
His smile grows. “There she is.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s my problem?”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“That's not my biggest problem.”
“It’s in the top three.”
“According to who?”
“Me.”
“Well, that’s not an official source.”
He ignores that. “You act like this vet tech thing is some huge leap.”
“It is.”
“No.” I open my mouth. He points his glass at me. “It’s not. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”
His dimple pops, making my heart skip a beat. “Yes, I am but I’m usually right.”
The lightness of the conversation squeezes my heart, reminding me of the first day at the hardware store. ““You’re occasionally right.”
“Look at that.” He lifts his glass. “Personal growth.”
I fight a smile. Lose.
His eyes linger on my mouth.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’ve been accused of that.”
The look he gives me sends warmth crawling beneath my skin. “Xavier.”
“Ruby.”
“Stop.”
“Haven’t done anything.”
Yet. It hangs there without either of us saying it.
He sets his glass down beside mine before walking toward the living room. I follow, dropping onto the couch.
Xavier settles beside me and stretches an arm across the back cushions. I last maybe thirty seconds before leaning into him. His arm comes around me immediately. Easy. Familiar.
I tuck my head beneath his chin, one hand resting against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm.
Then his thumb slips beneath the hem of my shirt. Barely. Just enough to skim the skin at my waist. My breath catches.
His hand stops. “Okay?”
I answer by turning my face toward his. His mouth finds mine. The first kiss is slow. Almost lazy. The kind we've gotten dangerously good at.
Then I shift closer. His hand slides farther around my waist, spreading against my bare back as he pulls me across him.
The kiss changes.
My fingers curl into his shirt. His mouth moves over mine, deeper now, and I end up half in his lap before I remember moving.
Xavier makes a rough sound against my mouth. That sound goes straight through me. I kiss him harder.
One of his hands settles at my hip while the other travels slowly up my back beneath my shirt. Warm palm. Rough fingertips. Every pass leaves another trail of heat behind.
I slide my hand beneath his shirt in return. His stomach tightens beneath my fingers.
“Ruby.”
I smile against his mouth. “What?”
“You know what.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
His laugh disappears into another kiss. This one isn't remotely careful.
His fingers tighten at my hip, drawing me closer until there's almost no space left between us. I feel the heat of him through our clothes, the hard lines of his body beneath mine, and every sensible thought I had five minutes ago disappears.
My mouth leaves his and finds his jaw.
His head tips back. “Jesus.”
I like that reaction far too much.
His hand slides along my side, thumb brushing the edge of my bra beneath my shirt before traveling down again. Teasing. Exploring. Never quite going where my body suddenly wants it.
“You're doing that on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
I pull back enough to glare at him. His mouth curves. “You know exactly what.”
“You're going to have to be more specific.”
I glare at him. “Did you just use my own line against me?”
“Occasionally right, remember?”
I laugh, and he catches the sound with his mouth. After that, the kissing turns messy.
My hands in his hair. His palms moving over my back and hips. My knee wedged against the couch beside him while he keeps pulling me closer every time I shift away enough to breathe.
Squirt grunts loudly from the other room. Neither of us stops. Another grunt.
Xavier breaks the kiss just long enough to mutter, “Your pig has terrible timing.”
“He's judging you.”
“He should mind his business.”
“This is his house.”
Xavier looks at me for one beat. “I'm willing to fight him for couch privileges.”
A laugh bursts out of me. He smiles, but it fades when I touch his face. Something quieter passes between us. Not uncertainty. Not fear. Just awareness.
I kiss him again, slower this time.