Page 33 of Make Me Your Hitta

I swallowed hard, tasting bile. Every instinct screamed at me to argue, to make him see reason. But I knew that look in his eyes. There’d be no getting through to his stubborn ass.

“Crystal,” I spat out, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.

I turned on my heel and stalked out of the office, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind me. My blood boiled, rage simmering just beneath the surface. I wanted to punch something, to scream, to let out all the frustration building inside me. Instead, I took a deep breath, forcing my face into a mask of calm. I couldn’t afford to lose it now. Not when there was so much at stake.

I found Titus waiting in the hallway, his eyes questioning. “Well?”

“We’ve got work to do,” I said snappishly. “Gather the team. We’re locking this place down tighter than Fort fuckin’ Knox.” As we walked, I verbally outlined the plan forming in my mind. “Double the patrols, especially around Xenobia’s quarters. I want every inch of security footage from the past week reviewed. And start vetting the staff again. Someone had to have helped that sick mothafucka get in.”

Titus nodded, his expression grim. “You’re certain we have a mole?”

“I think we can’t rule anything out. I know it’s not our guys, but Don’s gotten soft,” I replied, my mind racing through possibilities. “I trust you to handle the interrogations. You’ve always had a knack for getting people to talk.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “Consider it done, boss.”

I clasped his shoulder, grateful for his unwavering loyalty. In a world where I could trust so few, Titus was a rare constant. “Good man. Let’s catch these mothafuckas and show Don Hawthorne what real security looks like.”

I pushed open the door to Xenobia’s bedroom, my heart rate slowing for the first time since the shitstorm began. She was there, perched on the window seat, a book forgotten in her lap as she gazed at the sunrise.So much for getting some sleep.The budding sunlight caught the silvery scars on her arms, and something twisted in my chest.

“Adonis,” she called out, her eyes lighting up as she turned. Damn, she was beautiful. And completely mine.

I crossed the room in three strides, drinking in the sight of her. “You okay?” I asked, my voice rough with concern.

She nodded, reaching for my hand. “Better now,” she murmured, and I felt the last of my defenses crumble.

I pulled her close, burying my face in her hair. “I can’t lose you,” I whispered, the words I’d held back all day finally spilling out.

Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, feather light. “You won’t,” she said fiercely. “I’m right here.”

I kissed her desperately and hungrily. She met me with equal dedication, her body arching into mine. We stumbled toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothes. And then there was nothing but her—the taste of her skin, the sound of her breath catching, the feel of her nails raking down my back. For a few blessed moments, I could forget Don Hawthorne’s ultimatum, the breach, and the constant danger surrounding us. There was only Xenobia, warm and alive beneath me, her heartbeat thundering in time with mine.

“I need to shower. Join me?” I suggested.

The cold airnipped at my damp skin as we emerged from the shower. Wrapped in an oversized bath towel that smelled faintly of fresh detergent, I watched Xenobia shiver.

“You okay?” I inquired, my voice a low rumble, filled with concern as I leaned against the shower door, my arms crossed over my wet chest.

She nodded though her teeth chattered. “Yeah. Just cold.”

In two strides, I closed the distance between us. My hands were gentle but firm as they wrapped her towel around her trembling shoulders, letting the warmth of the dry cotton and my touch seep into her bones. She leaned into me, seeking solace in the safety I provided.

“Here, let’s get you warm,” I murmured, pulling her closer.

The towel slipped, gapping slightly at her chest as my fingers brushed her shoulders, sending sparks skittering across my fingertips. They trailed down, slow and deliberate, tracing the line of her scarred collarbone. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat screaming her name. Whatever was left of my soul was all for her.

“I love you,” I whispered, my hand pausing at the slope of her breast. But then, with a resolve that seemed to snap like a taut wire, I cupped her through the towel. My thumb grazed her nipple, and she sucked in a sharp breath, the sensation spiraling straight to the head of my dick.

My hands found their way to her hair, grasping, pulling her closer as my lips landed on hers. She moaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me. When I pulled back, her breaths were as ragged as my own.

“I love you too. I’ve always loved you. Only you,” Xenobia’s admission tumbled from her lips without hesitation. It felt like the most natural truth I’d ever heard, as if it had been waiting to be acknowledged since we met.

“Look at you,” I whispered as my eyes roamed over her face as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Touch me,” she urged, desperate to feel more of me, to break down the walls that had tried to separate us for too long.

I obliged, my fingers resuming their exploration with a newfound fervor. Every brush, every caress was a discovery, charting unknown territory that felt forbidden and inevitable. I watched her, entranced by the intensity in her sultry gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as she focused on controlling her moans so that we wouldn’t get caught.

“Feels so good,” she managed to breathe out, the world narrowing down to the sensations I invoked, hotter than the steam from the shower and more intoxicating than the danger lurking outside the mansion.

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