7. Desires

[Xavier]

Her kiss hit me like fire.

Warm. Messy. Desperate. Mine.

For a second, I froze. I’d built walls, chains, rules. But the taste of her broke all of them.

I kissed her back. Hard. Deep. My hand cupped her jaw, pulling her closer until her body melted into mine. She sighed against my lips, tasting like whiskey and sweetness, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered.

Laila pulled away, breathless, eyes glassy but blazing. “See? You do look at me,” she whispered.

Before I could reply, she swung a leg over and settled on my lap. My pulse slammed. Her gown rode up, the heat of her pressing against me, ripping apart my control.

“Laila,” I warned, my voice low. “We shouldn’t do this. You’re drunk.”

She didn’t care. Her hands slid into my hair, her mouth hot against my neck as she ground her hips against me. A soft sound left her throat—needy, wrecking me.

“Christ.” My grip on her waist tightened. The poison burning in my blood made restraint feel impossible.

Then she shifted against my thigh—slow, testing. Her head fell back, lips parted, and she did it again. Harder. Her body trembled, chasing more.

My jaw clenched. Every muscle in me begged to take her.

Instead, I held her tighter, guiding her, even as a curse slipped from my mouth. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Her forehead rested against mine, her lips brushing mine with every shaky breath.

“Xavier,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Think, Laila. You’re drunk.”

“Please… touch me.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“Please. I need you.”

“You’ll hate me in the morning.”

Her hand caught mine, dragging it to her thigh. Her voice sharpened. “Xavier Lucian Russell. Touch me.”

That was it. I snapped.

My hand slid under her dress. Her thighs trembled as I touched her, and when my fingers pressed against her panties, already wet, a broken moan tore from her lips.

I shoved the thin fabric aside and slid a finger inside her. She gasped, burying her face in my neck, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her alive.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please. Don’t ever stop.”

And I didn’t.

The car filled with the sound of her moans, her ragged breathing, her body riding my hand. By the time we stopped outside the house, Josh knew better than to wait. He stepped out, leaving us alone.

Just as she was about to fall apart, I pulled back. My fingers glistened, and her pout was instant, her cry sharp.

“Why di—”

I cut her off, lifting her from my lap and laying her on the seat.

I rolled my sleeves, my control gone. My hand wrapped gently around her throat, pressing her back, her legs opening for me without hesitation.

Her gasp was shaky, her eyes wide.

Then I lowered myself between her thighs.

Her taste. Her sound. Her everything—mine. She clutched at my hair, crying out as I licked her slowly, deeply, until she was unraveling beneath my mouth.

“Look at you. So eager. All for me, isn’t that right?” My voice was dark, rough. I dragged one finger through her slickness, spreading it along her folds, before sliding in a second—my ring finger, the silver band glinting with gold as it disappeared inside her.

Her moan shattered in my ears.

“Mhm,” Laila nodded eagerly, even through her haze. Some part of her still knew she had to be good. Acting up would only get her punished. “Only for you.”

That pulled a smile from me.

I kissed along her thighs, marking her soft skin with bruises that would stay. Each one a reminder of who she belonged to.