20. Xavier
TWENTY
XAVIER
Sloane hovered by the front door.
I'd wanted to do this since the rehearsal dinner, since long before that, honestly. Every time we stood close enough to share body heat in Hawaii, I'd talked myself out of it with excuses that had finally run dry.
I closed the gap, framed her face in my hands, and kissed her.
She didn't hesitate. She melted against me, her hands gripping my jaw to kiss me back with everything she had.
I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against me, and it still wasn't enough.
It had never been enough. The hunger between us didn't fade the more I fed it.
It sharpened. I wanted the lost years and the distance and the damage gone, traded for the certainty of her mouth on mine.
I kissed her until the apartment faded away.
She finally pulled back.
"I need to say something," she breathed against my lips, "and I have to get it out before I lose my nerve."
"Let me go first. Please."
She stepped back just far enough to meet my gaze. Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave a small nod.
I cleared my throat.
"I'm sorry. When you told me your father swore to burn my whole life down, I didn't want to believe it.
I'd spent eight years trying to get over you.
Trying to forgive you. Trying to hate you, because anger was easier than the alternative.
And I'd finally made progress. The hate faded first. Finding out it wasn't your fault meant tearing open a wound I'd just finished stitching closed, and I panicked.
" My eyes burned, and I blinked hard against it. "I'm sorry I doubted you."
Her eyes glassed over.
"I should have fought for you," she whispered, tears spilling over her lashes. "I broke away from him after graduation, but I should've done it the second he gave me that ultimatum. I should have chosen you, and I chose wrong. I'm so sorry."
"That's on me too. I never should have accepted that breakup. I got a package and a note, and I walked away without a single question. I should have demanded answers. I didn't." I shook my head. "I own that."
She reached up and pressed her palm flat against my chest.
"We don't have to live in the past anymore." She held my gaze. "I will never choose anything over you again. I spent years trying to smother how I felt, and it never worked. Eventually you just have to accept the evidence."
A rough laugh escaped me.
I'd spent years treating my inability to get over her as a cage I needed to escape. Only now did I see it wasn't a trap at all.
It was love.
The only thing in my life that had ever felt like freedom, and I'd been serving it like a prison sentence.
I could hold her now without guilt. I could want her without apology. The lost years burned off and left only us.
"What?" she asked, catching my expression.
"Just looking at the rest of my life."
She smacked my arm. "You are so cheesy."
"You hate it?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I tolerate it. Sometimes it's annoying."
"Liar."
"How can you tell?"
I dipped my head for a quick kiss. "Your lips taste like lies."
She wrinkled her nose. "Why are you being so cringey?"
"It's been a long time. I've been bottling this up for eight years, so let me have my moment."
She shot me a deadpan look. "I'm only permitting this today. Tomorrow, I pack my bags."
I arched an eyebrow. "I dare you."
She spun on her heel and took a step toward the hallway.
I caught her waist and hauled her backward, kicking the door shut. She let out a bright laugh as I scooped her up, carried her into the kitchen, and set her on the granite counter. I slid my hand down to rest on her thigh and stepped between her knees.
"What are you up to?" she asked.
"Take a wild guess."
She swatted my shoulder, her gaze scanning the unfamiliar layout of Violet's new place. "You're forgetting this isn't your house. Or mine."
She had a point. The back rooms were dark and silent.
"Where's Violet?"
"No idea. She must've slipped out."
"When?"
"Didn't hear the door. She probably wanted to give us privacy."
"A heads-up would've been nice."
"Xavier." She fixed me with a dry look. "Do you seriously want to talk about my best friend right now?"
"Definitely not."
"We should head to my place."
I shook my head. "My house is closer. And I'm out of patience."
"Okay."
I lifted her off the granite. She weighed practically nothing.
"Put me down, you caveman."
"Not a chance. I want my hands on you as long as possible."
"Xavier—"
"Nope."
She rolled her eyes. "What have I done to deserve this?" she muttered to the ceiling.
"What was that?"
"Nothing at all," she said sweetly.
I chuckled. Despite the complaints, her arms stayed locked around my neck.
"Grab my keys from the bowl."
She snagged them and held the door open. I carried her down to the street, pulled the passenger door wide, and settled her into the seat. She looked up at me, fighting a smile by pressing her lips into a thin line.
"You're ridiculous," she teased.
I shut the door and jogged around to the driver's side. I pulled away from the curb and pointed the car toward my neighborhood.
Sloane stayed quiet for a few blocks. Then the click of her seatbelt releasing broke the silence.
I shot her a sideways glance. "What are you doing?"
She slid across the center console until she pressed against my side, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw.
"Nothing."
"Sloane."
"I'm just sitting here."
Her hand slid down my chest and found the buttons of my dress shirt. Heat shot through me, my knuckles whitening on the wheel.
"I'm operating a moving vehicle."
"I'm aware." Her gaze stayed steady and wicked. "How far is your house?"
"Two minutes." I took a sharp left. The residential street was dead quiet, no traffic. My front gates loomed at the end of the block.
Her hand drifted lower.
A sharp hiss escaped my teeth.
She shifted closer, turning her attention to my belt. Keeping the car between the lane markers took all the focus I had. I swung into my driveway and killed the engine before my brain fully registered the decision.
I didn't reach for the door handle. I hit the lever to recline my seat instead. Sloane let out a breathy laugh as I hauled her up and settled her across my lap, straddling me in the dim cabin, the security lights throwing shadows across her face.
"I'm about to ruin you."
Her smile turned lethal. "Prove it."
What happened next was muscle memory and years of wanting, the kiss going deep before I'd even finished the thought.
Her hands worked faster than mine, impatient, and I let her win, because eight years had taught me exactly how she liked to take what she wanted.
The windows fogged. But neither of us cared where we were, that the engine ticked as it cooled, that anyone could have walked past the gate.
There was only the heat of her against me, the small frantic sounds she made into my mouth, the way she said my name like she'd been holding it on her tongue the whole drive.
I knew this body. I'd dreamed about it on too many nights I'd refused to admit to.
And here she was again, real and warm, gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise, both of us moving in that desperate rhythm of two people who'd been starved of each other for too long.
It hit fast and hard, years of restraint collapsing all at once. When it broke, it left us gasping in the dark, her forehead dropped to mine, our breath tangling in the narrow space between us. I held the back of her neck, breathing her in.
She dragged her heavy eyelids open and smiled.
"Are we done?"
I let out a ragged breath. "Not even close."
She slid off my lap, popped the passenger door, and stepped out into the cool night air. I adjusted my clothes and followed.
I unlocked the front door, pulled her inside, and pinned her against the wall for another kiss. I scooped her up again, ignoring her breathless laughter, and carried her up the staircase to the bedroom.
I lowered her onto the mattress. She stared up at me, chest heaving.
We came together again in the dark, slower this time, the frantic edge of the car giving way to something deeper.
There was no hurry left in either of us.
We had the whole night, and for once nothing was waiting to take it away.
I took my time learning her again, the places that made her breath catch, the ones that had her fingers curling into my back, every map I thought I'd lost coming back under my hands.
Every touch carried all the years we'd spent apart, each one an apology and a vow at once, an answer to every night I'd reached for someone who wasn't her.
I was finally home. Her hands moved over me slowly and certainly, her mouth found mine in the dark, and she said my name low in her throat, a sound she'd only ever made for me.
All of it was the only thing I'd ever needed and the one thing I'd convinced myself I'd never have again.
The bed frame groaned as we found the rhythm once more, unhurried, reverent, two people who already knew how this ended and wanted to make it last anyway.
When it finally crested, there was nothing left between us but skin and breath and the quiet certainty that this, her, was where I belonged.
I gathered her against me and felt her heartbeat slow against mine, and I let myself believe it would still be there in the morning.
Hours later, exhaustion finally won. The first gray hints of dawn crept through the bedroom blinds.
Sloane lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
I rolled my head to the side. "What's going on in that brain?"
"At the rehearsal dinner," she started. "When you first saw me. Did you instantly think, to hell with it, I want her back?"
"Instantly. And then the history caught up with me, and I panicked."
"I was terrified that if I let you back in, you'd bolt the second things got hard again."
She shook her head against the pillow. "I won't. I'm never leaving you again." She shifted onto her side and pressed her hand over my heart. "I love you. I can't even explain what you mean to me. I tried to amputate you from my life for years, and it was impossible."
I pulled her close and kissed her, slow and deep.
Then she rolled over, presenting her back to me.
I couldn't suppress a smile. She'd always done this. She hated being coddled when she was trying to sleep. She'd cocoon herself in the sheets facing the wall and leave me to face the opposite direction, two people sharing a bed but keeping their own space. It had always been enough.
I watched her yank the duvet up to her chin.
God, I'd missed this. The explosive moments, sure, but even more than that, this mundane reality. The small noises she made while settling in. Watching her find comfort gave me a peace I hadn't felt in eight years.
On pure impulse, I slid across the mattress and pressed myself against her back.
"Please," she mumbled into her pillow. "Back off. I need sleep."
I didn't budge.
"Xavier."
I wrapped my arm around her waist, buried my face in her tangled hair, and let out a quiet laugh. I was so happy my chest ached with it.