Page 42 of Breaking the Rules
He was leading her into a trap, but did it really count as a trap if her eyes were wide open?
“Just a kiss?” she repeated.
“I promise.” His lips moved feather light over her hair. “I won’t even offer to help you get out of those boots. His fast fingers traced the tops of her boots around her thighs.
Her lips curved. That earnestness, that playfulness from him was enough to have her ignoring the warning bells and finally give in to the craving.
The pulse in his neck thrummed faster beneath her fingers as she closed the distance between their mouths. Slowly, slowly, she moved with a patience never before tapped. She paused a whisper away feeling his breath hot on her face. Her blood felt thicker, and there was a buzzing in her ears. His lids, thickly lashed were heavy and half closed.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was sealing her fate with one kiss.
He waited for her. She knew he wanted this to be her choice, wanted to give her that power. And she took it. Lightly, sweetly, softly, she laid her lips to his. They were hard beneath hers, everything about him was, thick biceps, broad chest and shoulders, the granite of his thighs. He’d already been hard when he sat her in his lap, but he’d done nothing to push her.
She wanted to take them both to the edge, to make sure she could come back from it. She spun in his lap and straddled him. He brought his hands that had been fisted at his sides to her hips where they gripped. “Just a kiss, Angel,” he whispered. Gentle words at war with the frenetic need she felt from him.
The skirt of her dress rode up indecently high as she spread her thighs over his lap. She brought her hands to his face, stroked his jaw, his neck, and dove her fingers into his hair.
He sighed into her mouth, and she used that access to deepen the kiss. Her tongue stroked into his mouth, claiming new territory.
She could feel his heartbeat thumping against her breast. Still he let her take. She changed the angle of the kiss, went deeper, and when he couldn’t take being submissive any longer, she sucked the tip of his tongue as he thrust it into her mouth.
He pulled her hips down so his erection was cradled tight between her spread legs. She whimpered once and felt a glow, warm and bright, spread through her. She’d been kissed before, but this seduction? This lazy sampling of pleasure? It was something only Xavier could give her.
“My Angel.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe, not with the weight of so much desire on her. Not with the current of love that was flowing through her. His love for her, he poured it into her through the sweetness of a kiss. She had no doubt now that he loved her. But that didn’t mean she could just blindly follow him.
As if he felt her thoughts, Xavier snaked a hand behind her head. Holding her against his mouth when she would have pulled back. He deepened the kiss on a long, sinful stroke, and she felt his penis throb beneath her. She wanted him. Wanted to move against him. Wanted to reach into those urbane navy trousers and release him so he could finally be inside her again.
She wanted his hands on her body, stroking and teasing. She remembered everything about every time they’d ever made love. He was sparking an inferno in both of them that would never be extinguished. With just a kiss. Just a kiss.
Finally, he pulled back on a shaky breath, tucking her head against his neck.
She could feel the flush of her cheeks and the swelling of her lips. He’d ravaged her body and mind with a kiss. A kiss that was a promise of so much more.
“Goodnight, Angel.”
She trembled on his lap. “Goodnight, Xavier.” When she made a move to slide off of him, he stopped her by holding on to her hips.
“Hang on. I’d hate to embarrass myself so early on in our reconciliation.” He picked her up off his lap and deposited her on the cushion next to him. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and took a few deep breaths.
“That hard, huh?” she asked, suddenly feeling smug.
“If you don’t get your perfect ass and those sexy boots up those stairs by the time I count to three, I’ll show you just how hard.”
Waverly jumped away from the couch but took her time sauntering up the stairs. She felt him watching her the entire way.
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It was a little too early to deal with Gwendolyn Riddington-Macks, but Waverly made an exception that morning. “Hello, Waverly,” the cool, blonde publicist grimly swept in through Waverly’s front door wearing a cashmere coat and Jimmy Choos. Behind her, Waverly’s agent, Aisha Leigh breezed in, dropping a kiss on Waverly’s cheek.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Aisha said, her tone miles friendlier than Gwendolyn’s. “How ya feeling?”
Al, as she preferred to be called, was a Mississippi-bred champion of contract negotiations for actors and writers. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty in a fight. And her fierce loyalty was what had convinced Waverly to hire her after she and her mother’s agent, Phil, had amicably parted ways while she was still in college. She’d never regretted her decision to hire Al. The woman had Waverly’s back in every negotiation and showed her support at every event. Her flawless dark skin was complimented by a curve hugging peacock blue turtleneck and crisp charcoal slacks. Suede booties clicked on the floor.
Next to them both, Waverly felt like she was wearing pajamas. But she was in her own home and felt no need to put on airs. Her capris and cozy hooded sweatshirt would keep her comfortable during what was sure to become an uncomfortable morning meeting.
Waverly led the way back to the kitchen where she had coffee, water, and a few Hollywood-approved snacks arranged on a tray on the dining table.
