Page 65 of Lassoed Love

His mother invites everyone to get comfortable as she heads off to prepare dinner. I take a moment to retrieve my phone frommy bag, only to discover it’s on its last 10% of battery life. Shit, I’ll need to charge it.

I rise from my spot on the couch and approach Xavier. “Hey, is there anywhere I can charge my phone?”

Recognition flits in his eyes. “Yeah, come, I’ve got one in my room,” he says, leading me toward the wooden curved staircase that ascends upstairs. The layout of their home is stunning—wood and thick stone, with large beams adorning the ceilings. The open staircase leads us to a loft, maintaining visibility of everyone downstairs in the living room.

Xavier guides me to the last room down the hallway. As he opens the door, I am immediately enveloped in his scent—masculine and distinctly him. A mixture of pine, cologne, and his soap—it's so addictive.

Xavier takes my phone and places it on charge near his bed, nestled on the bedside table. Surprisingly spacious, his room boasts tiled flooring and wooden beams that grace the ceilings.

His bed—massive and likely super king-sized—suits the stature of this large man. A bay window adjacent to the bed offers a breathtaking view of their backyard and its vast expanse. As I approach the window, the stunning scenery captures my attention. “I could wake up to a view like this every morning,” I sigh, soaking in the beauty.

Xavier creeps up behind me, gently sweeping my damp hair to the side as he leans down to place a tender kiss on my exposed shoulder. Goosebumps ripple across my body, and I shudder as he continues trailing kisses up the column of my neck, his touch tenderly strokingmy arm up and down. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he confesses. My breath hitches, and I shudder anew as his lips explore my neck.

“About your moans and whimpers. That incredible pussy of yours,” he murmurs, inhaling deeply to savour my scent. “Your scent is so addictive,” he adds.I could say the same.“What are you doing to me, Isla?” he asks, gently turning me to face him, his eyes locked onto mine.

“I don’t know.” I whisper, meeting his gaze.

A low hum, almost a growl, escapes him. “I need to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about these lips every single fucking minute,” he confesses, leaning in with a hungry anticipation.

Noticing he is still shirtless, I seize the opportunity to run my hands up the expanse of his chest, exploring every ridge and divot. His chest, chiselled and imposing—almost as solid as the stone that surrounds this home. My hands shake as I move them up over his large pecs, over the dusting of hair covering his chest.

“What are you waiting for, then?” I goad, and he slams his mouth to mine with a growl. I whimper as his tongue seeks entrance into my mouth, moving seamlessly with mine.

As we kiss, Xavier’s hands trail down to my ass, cupping each cheek firmly in his hands, gripping them tightly before giving them a shake.

“This ass,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to fucking spank the shit out of it,” he declares. Oh, this man and his mouth. So, sodirtyandunexpected.

He takes my lips again, swallowing every whimper and moan that surfaces, our groans echoing the same rhythm. Just before the kiss becomes too heated, I gently push against his shoulders, breaking our connection.

“Xav, your family is downstairs. We can’t. We should head back down before they wonder where we've gone,” I say, attempting to regain some semblance of control.

A growl rumbles in his chest. “We’re not finished here, Isla.”

It’s a promise I know he will somehow fulfil, and the thought sends a shiver wracking through my body.

Seated at the massive wooden dining table, an extravagant spread of food unfolds before us, courtesy of Mrs. Mitchell. The rain continues its relentless pour outside, now bordering on torrential, accompanied by the occasional crack of thunder. Damn, this weather can’t catch a break.

Laughter and banter fill the room as we indulge in the feast. My eyes flick to Xavier every now and then, and it’s as if he senses me because he does the same. The table becomes a symphony of voices, clinking cutlery, and the delicious aroma of food.

I place my napkin on the table, and as I look up, I catch Olivia watching me with a smug grin. This isn’t the first time she’s caught on to me staring. Uncertain of what she’s thinking, I shift my gazeto anywhere else but at Olivia or Xavier.

Imogen and Harrison are going at it, locked in a heated conversation while the rest of us enjoy our dinner. Their lively exchange draws the attention of Xavier and Olivia, who eagerly join in with their own remarks. Bradley and Michael, on the other hand, remain quiet, their occasional eye rolls or shakes of the head indicating their amusement or exasperation.

They’ve been at it since our volleyball game earlier today. I can’t tell if they really just don’t get along or if they just need to work out the tension that surrounds them like an aura. Knowing Imogen, it’s probably the former. I can sense the way she feels about him from a few seats down. She’s a force to be reckoned with, that one.

As I listen to their back-and-forth, I can’t help but admire Imogen’s quick wit and Harrison's playful charm. Their dynamic is entertaining, to say the least, and adds a lively spark to the evening.

“Harrison, do you ever stop talking? It’s like living with a permanent human radio,” Imogen retorts.

“Hey, I’m just keeping the atmosphere lively. Can’t let it get too dull.”

Imogen rolls her eyes. “Your idea of lively is borderline exhausting. I’m surprised even the crickets outside can’t get a word in.”

“Hey, I provide free entertainment,” Harrison retorts. “You should be thanking me.”

“Sure, Harrison, keep telling yourself that,” Imogen quips. “Maybe you should take up stand-up comedy. Oh, wait, your jokes might put people to sleep faster than counting sheep.”

He chuckles. “Touche, Immy. But at least I’d have a captive audience.”

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