Page 203 of Detectives in Love
“I did,” I laugh. “Not complaining.”
Xavier shoots me a smile, and I smile back, feeling stupidly happy—until I notice Monica and Ernest watching us, clearly baffled by our very obvious moment.
“I’ll go wash my hands,” Monica says with a knowing smirk, and Ernest trails after her. Something tells me he’s planning to talk to her. Probably about us. But honestly, after everything we’ve been through, Ernest poking around doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
As soon as they’re out of the room, I walk over to Xavier. He looks mildly annoyed—probably about his uncle—but the second I step into his space, his expression softens.
He’s in a plain t-shirt and soft lounge pants, looking so domestic it makes something flutter in my chest. I slide a hand to the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss. My tongue slips into his mouth, and he melts into me without hesitation, arms wrapping around my ass, tugging me close.
“Play nice tonight,” I murmur against his mouth as I pull back a little.
“I’ll be nice,” Xavier says, though his face doesn’t quite sell it.
I snort. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”
His hands tighten on my ass, and he gives me that flat look—half glare, half exasperation.
“Come on,” I murmur, brushing my thumbs over his neck. “She’s my sister. And your uncle’s not that bad either. We can be civil for one night.”
Xavier snorts. “Alright.”
“You’re the best,” I grin, planting a quick kiss on his lips and catching the way his cheeks turn pink.
“I’ll be civil,” Xavier says—but of course he can’t stop there. “Just don’t expect me to nod along to everything he says.”
He visibly pouts, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t pout,” I tell him. “You look way too cute when you do that.”
Color creeps up his cheeks, and he shakes his head, muttering, “Shut up.”
I chuckle and kiss him again—slower this time, savoring the way he softens under my touch without meaning to. His shirt smells like soap, his hair still damp from the shower. Domestic Xavier, warm and mine to touch, might be my new favorite thing.
“I just…” he says, hesitant. Then, almost shy, he blurts: “I had plans for us. After sushi.”
I tilt my head, smiling. “Plans? What, like…going somewhere?”
That earns me a look.
“Of course not.”
My stomach flips. Heat rushes in as I realize exactly what kind of plans he means.
“Oh,” I say softly, grinning even as my face flushes.
He shifts, suddenly awkward, like he regrets saying anything. It only makes me want to push him further. So I lean in, close enough that my lips brush his ear. My voice drops as I say,
“If you make it through dinner without starting a war with Ernest, I’ll let you fuck me all night. Any fucking way you want.”
I feel him shiver under my touch. His breath stutters; his pupils blow wide, blue eyes gone almost black. For once, Xavier’s the one who’s speechless, his face flushed as he nods—like he’s just been given orders he fully plans to follow.
The tension between us is dizzying—I can feel the heat rolling off him, his body tense, jaw tight.
Then, suddenly, he lets go of me and straightens. His eyes flick past my shoulder.
I turn around, fast.
Monica and Ernest have just stepped back into the living room, staring at us like they walked in halfway through a play and aren’t sure what scene they’re seeing. I clear my throat, suddenly aware of just how much PDA they walked in on.
