Page 93 of Breaking the Rules
Waverly collapsed on him, and the change in angle had his cock twitching in her. “You’re still hard after that?”
He rolled, still inside her, and pinned her to the mattress. “Angel, I’m always hard for you.”
He pulled out and stroked back in. There was no way she could go again, Waverly told herself. But her body sent a delicious shiver through her when the crown of his cock angled over the perfect spot.
Her sigh of pleasure had him lowering onto her. “One more time for me, Angel.”
With slow, smooth strokes, he was rock hard again, and she was floating into the bliss. He smoothed his hand over her forehead, brushing her hair back. Her gaze met his and held. Xavier rolled his hips, and staring into the depths of each other, they sighed together.
She hiked her knees up higher on his hips and held on. Every deep, masterful stroke took her higher. Her nails dug perfect crescents into his shoulders as if she hoped to anchor him to her forever.
He moved in her endlessly, languidly. Taking his time, he carried her toward the light with measured strokes. Every thrust perfect, every sigh magical.
She felt it then, that slow, glorious build like the dawn breaking. He felt it too and paced himself. “I’ve got you, baby,” he promised her.
It swept through her like gravity, like the magnetic pull of the moon on the tide. Infinitely powerful. “Xavier,” she sighed out his name as she tumbled with it, rolling and falling, floating and flying.
She watched him as he came, her name from his lips. He was unblinking, staring into her as if he could see inside to where he filled her with his seed. They possessed each other in the most beautifully carnal of ways.
Waverly wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours before they moved. Maybe it was days. But when Xavier finally pulled out of her, she missed the connection immediately. He pulled her into him, positioning her head on his chest. She could see the self-satisfied smile on his face as she toyed with his chest hair. It was probably a reflection of the one on her own face.
“Xavier?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t go to sleep yet.”
“Angel, I’m going to need at least another twenty minutes and a gallon of water if you want to go again.”
“No! It’s not that. It’s work related. And don’t get all huffy,” she told him when he opened one eye disapprovingly. “I have an idea, and if I get you onboard tonight, it’ll be that much easier to convince everyone else in the morning.”
“I already hate this,” he complained.
“I already made it worth your while,” she told him, nibbling at his neck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It was a good plan. He’d give her that, Xavier thought as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Waverly was curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. She had certainly made it worth his while. He could barely walk, let alone escape her while she talked work. But he’d have liked the plan a hell of a lot better if it were someone other than Waverly running point. He hated even the thought of her facing danger. It didn’t matter how strong, smart, or capable she was. She was Waverly,hisWaverly. He wanted her somewhere safe and happy.
Like right now. Right now was pretty damn perfect. The girl he loved sleeping on him, a quiet house on a crisp fall night. If it could stay just like this, life would be perfect.
Perfect ended four seconds later with an ear-splitting scream. Waverly woke with a start, blindly reaching for the gun she’d stowed in her nightstand. Xavier was already pulling on pants and grabbing his piece. He tossed his discarded t-shirt at her, and together, they silently made their way down to the second floor.
There was shouting now. Some English, some Russian, some the Queen’s English. The hallway off the media room was full of people waving weapons and yelling. Micah, wearing rubber ducky boxer shorts, held a Ruger at his side. Anatoli had muscled in next to him in a white tank top, black silk boxers, and a rifle. Chelsea, his lovely sister, wielded a bat. She was wearing a boxer tank top outfit, and Xavier did not like how Travers with his Glock and flannel pajama pants was eyeing her up.
Kate sat on the hallway stable bench with a box of cereal and watched the show.
It was only then that Xavier realized what the fuss was all about. Grigory Stepanov was shouting at Dante who was holding only a bed pillow over his crotch. Petra, in a purple silk negligee alternated between sobbing and yelling.
“I thought someone broke in here and was murdering people,” Chelsea said, shouldering the bat.
“If we stick around long enough, we might see a murder,” Kate told her, helping herself to another handful of cereal. “Looks like they weren’t the only ones getting some.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Waverly’s attire and sex hair.
“Don’t make me shoot you, Kate,” Waverly joked, tucking her gun behind her back.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s calm down,” Xavier said, wading into the fray. “Wrede, go back to your own room.”
Dante decided escape was in his best interest and scurried his bare ass down the hallway. Everyone watched him go.
