Page 201 of Detectives in Love
Before I can tease him again, he’s swinging his legs off the bed. He pulls on his boxers and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the faucet run, then he’s back, a wet towel in his hand.
“Xavier—” I start, but he’s already leaning over me, wiping me down carefully, like I’m breakable.
I lie still, watching him fuss over every inch of me, his jaw set, his eyes soft when they flick up to check my face. The tenderness almost undoes me more than anything else tonight.
When he’s satisfied, he tosses the towel aside, grabs the comforter, climbing in beside me again, then wraps us both. His arms come around me, pulling me close, his chin resting on top of my head.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mumble against his chest, smiling.
“Shut up,” he mutters, but his hand is rubbing circles into my back.
I tilt my head up, grinning. “You know, for someone who just fucked me like you owned me, you’re awfully domestic.”
His face goes red for what has to be the tenth time, and I laugh, kissing his jaw as he groans.
We lie there facing each other, the comforter pulled around us, his arm heavy over my waist. His eyes stay on me, tender, unguarded, and it makes my chest tighten. I’m not used to being looked at like this.
I shift, heat rushing to my face. “What?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “What are you thinking?”
Xavier’s cheeks burn harder, but he doesn’t look away. His voice drops low, almost shy. “That I love you.”
My breath catches. For a second, I can’t even speak—and when I finally do, my voice is barely a whisper. “I love you too.”
The words hang between us, and I can’t help but smile. Xavier smiles back, but his eyes give him away—there’s tension there, a quiet unease, like he doesn’t quite know how to rest in this. Because the moment something feels this good, it also feels fragile.
I see it in him because I feel it too. The happiness is overwhelming, but braided through it is fear—fear of how much it matters now, how unbearable it would be to lose it. It aches in my chest in the way something precious always does when you finally realize how much you need it.
He leans in and kisses me—light, almost chaste, as if he’s afraid of breaking the moment. When he pulls back, histhumb brushes over my cheek. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when the food gets here.”
I want to argue, say I’m not tired—but it’s pointless. My body’s already heavy, eyelids dragging. Instead, I just nod, resting my cheek against his bare chest. His warmth surrounds me. I breathe him in, and sleep takes me before I can form another thought.
***
When I wake, I have no idea what time it is. For a second, I’m not even sure where I am—just that I’m warm, wrapped in a comforter, limbs heavy with rest. Then I realize I’m still in Xavier’s arms, his chest solid against my back, one arm loose around my waist.
I blink up at him. He’s already awake, watching me, his eyes soft in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Hi,” I say, smiling at him.
“Hi,” he says, smiling back. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I admit. Better than good, actually. My body’s sore, but I feel more rested than I have in weeks. The dull ache in my head that’s been trailing me for days is finally gone. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to read his face.
Xavier nods, still smiling. Then he leans in and plants a quick kiss on my lips, as if he can’t help himself. He tastes like toothpaste and something sweet.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Six.”
My eyes widen. “Six? I slept all day?”
He nods, looking amused.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“I did. Woke up twenty minutes ago. Took a shower.”
I groan, only now realizing just how wrecked we must’ve been. Eight hours—gone, like nothing.
