Chapter Eighty-One
Xavier
I wake up when it's still dark. Not fully. Just enough to know where I am. Warm. Ruby.
My arm is wrapped around her, her back pressed into my chest, our hands interlaced like sometime in the night we both shifted closer without thinking about it. Like distance wasn't even an option.
I don't move right away. Just lie there, listening. Her breathing is slow. Even. Peaceful.
My hand tightens against her waist, more instinct than intention, like I'm making sure she's there. She is. Of course she is. But that doesn't stop the unease that always smacks me in the face when I think about her pulling away. About her deciding this isn't enough.
I lean forward, pressing my mouth to the top of her head. A soft kiss. Barely there. She stirs anyway as if she senses I'm awake. A soft breath, her body moving against mine, not pulling away but instead, settling deeper.
Her hand moves, fingers curling tighter like she remembers exactly where she is. “Hey.” Her voice is rough with sleep.
“Hey.” I don’t let go. Don’t loosen my hold.
She turns, tilting her face up toward me, eyes half-lidded, hair falling across her cheek. There’s no rush in it. No edge. Just... awareness.
I brush that strand of hair back, my fingers lingering a second longer than they need to. Her gaze tracks the movement. Stays on me. Something shifts in the space between us. Not sharp. Not urgent. Just... deeper.
My hand slides to her jaw, thumb resting beneath her cheekbone. I give her time to move. To pull back. She doesn’t.
Her hand comes up instead, resting against my chest, fingers spreading like she’s grounding herself there. That’s all it takes.
I kiss her. Slow. Careful. Nothing like the last time. No tension pushing it forward. No frustration driving it. Just... her.
The way she answers it. The way she leans in, not hesitant, not holding back, just there with me, makes my chest squeeze.
My hand slides along her side, pulling her closer, fitting her against me like she belongs there. And she does.
She exhales against my mouth, her fingers curling into my shirt, then lower, her palm pressing over the hard outline of me through the fabric. A soft sound leaves her, not a question, just acknowledgment. I groan against her lips, my hips shifting toward her touch without my permission.
“Ruby,” I murmur, but she’s already guiding my hand down, past her waist, between her legs where she’s warm and wet through the thin cotton of her underwear.
I push the fabric aside, groaning again when I feel how ready she is, how slick and hot against my fingers.
She arches into my touch, her breath hitching, and I take my time, circling her, sliding one finger inside her, then two, feeling her tighten around me, her hips rolling to meet each slow thrust.
“Please,” she whispers, and it’s not begging, it’s just truth.
I roll her onto her back, settling between her thighs, and she helps me push my shorts down, her hand wrapping around my cock.
“Jesus, Ruby,” I growl between clenched teeth.
After drawing down the condom, she guides me. The first slide into her is unbearably slow, her heat gripping me, pulling me deeper. We both shudder. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, urging me closer.
I move slowly, drawing almost all the way out before sinking back in, watching her face, the way her lips part, the way her eyes flutter shut then open again, finding mine.
She's so tight around me, pulsing with each thrust, and I feel every shiver, every clench, every time she squeezes me like she's trying to keep me inside her.
“Look at me,” I whisper, and she does, her gaze locked on mine as I rock into her, deeper now, her nails scoring my shoulders, her breath coming in soft gasps that match the rhythm of our bodies.
She comes first, her back arching off the bed, her inner muscles clamping down on me so hard I see stars, and I follow her over the edge, burying myself to the hilt, my forehead dropping to hers as I spill into her, both of us shaking, both of us breathless, both of us still tangled together in the dark.
When I press my forehead to hers, she doesn't pull away. Her eyes close, her breath brushing mine.
“Thank you for staying,” she murmurs, softer this time.
“I’m here.” And I mean it. I pull her back into me, my hand sliding along her back, keeping her close as the quiet stretches around us.
No rush. No urgency. Just the slow, steady pull of something that doesn’t need a name to exist. And for once, I don’t try to define it. I just stay.