Page 112 of Crossing the Line
He knew her body better than she did. And no matter how slowly or sweetly they began, it always ended in a fiery race to a finish that decimated them both.
Tonight had been no different. As Waverly lay in his arms with Rome twinkling outside the window, she thought about tomorrow. Tomorrow they went home. Tomorrow everything would change. But at least they had tonight.
She stretched languidly on the rumpled sheets.
“Mmm. I feel like I just did an hour of hot yoga,” she murmured.
“I think it was an hour of orgasms followed by a spontaneous nap,” Xavier said, dragging her on top of him. He kissed the tips of her fingers one at a time.
“And to think I’ve been doing yoga wrong all this time.” She traced her fingers over his bare chest in a gentle, swirling pattern. “I can’t believe we go home tomorrow.”
“You don’t sound happy, Angel.” Xavier twirled a silky strand of her hair around his finger.
She’d spent every night in his bed, wrapped in his arms. But she only felt that they were close enough when he was inside her, driving her up. Nothing else was close enough. She felt safe with him—and not just from Ganim. For the first time in her life, she felt like she could put her faith in a man who wouldn’t be tempted to betray her. That, in itself, was terrifying because there were no guarantees.
“Just dreading the return to ‘normal.’” She picked her head up to look at him. “How strange is it that I consider having a stalker who plans to kill me and dealing with my mother in rehab as normal?”
He gave her one of those slow, belly-flopping smiles of amusement. “What do you wish your normal looked like?”
“I couldn’t even begin to imagine,” she sighed. But she could. A scrap of her still clung to the hope that Ganim would be behind bars before the end of the summer leaving her free to attend Stanford. A new path with new opportunities. But the likelihood of that dream coming true was even slimmer than the possibility that her mother’s stay in rehab would stick this time.
“Maybe I can help you with normal…at least for tonight,” he told her.
“I’d like to see that,” Waverly said, arching an eyebrow.
He slapped her bare buttocks. “We’ll start with dinner. Go get dressed.”
“Xavier, it’s after ten. That’s late even for Rome.”
“Trust me, Angel. Have I ever led you astray?”
“I’m sprawled naked across your spectacular body. If that isn’t astray, I don’t know what is.”
He dumped her on her side on the mattress. “Prepare to be amazed and well fed.”
She took a moment and watched him pad naked into the walk-in closet. There wasn’t a city in the world better equipped to worship the flesh of a man like Xavier Saint. Every statue here looked as if it had been carved in his honor.
He came back out and tossed a long skirt and a soft black t-shirt at her.
“Why do you have my clothes in your closet?” she asked rising to her knees on the bed.
He gave her a wolfish look. “You seem to lose a lot of your clothes in my room. I have more of your clothes than my own in my luggage.”
She dressed quickly, looking forward to a meal that wasn’t room service, and hurried back to Xavier. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and left his white button down untucked. He looked her up and down and gave a mock frown.
“What?” Waverly looked down at her clothes.
“You’re missing something,” he said with a wink and plopped an Invictus ball cap on her head. “Now you’re incognito.”
They snuck out the hotel’s side entrance and avoided the lobby altogether. On the street, Xavier took Waverly’s hand in his and led her west. They walked along like just any other happy couple enjoying the warm summer night.
He tugged her to a stop just a few blocks from the hotel. Neon signs blinked “gelati” and “pizza” in the arched front windows of the old building. A scattering of tables and chairs flanked the front facade. Only a few of them were occupied by raucous Italians enjoying the night.
No one paid them the slightest bit of attention as Xavier led the way inside. The shop was long and skinny with most of the space dedicated to a brick pizza oven and mile-long case of gelato flavors. They ordered at the counter by choosing slices of pizza from the display case. She went for themargheritawhile Xavier ordered thediavola. They grabbed drinks from the greasy cooler and settled into the back corner of the shop.
The wobbly table was covered in a well-worn burgundy cloth that didn’t match the wooden chairs with red vinyl seat cushions. The air was thick with garlic and warm from the oven.
He was watching her with an amused smile. “When’s the last time you went out for pizza?” he asked.
