Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Not you or your team. They all… I mean, you…”
“Thank you. Sometimes I worry that something will snap, and I won’t be able to come back to myself.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You’re not my fucking therapist. Just ignore me.”
“I like that you talk to me. Usually people don’t. They think I’m too weird or awkward, and I never know what to say.”
“That’s not true. You’ve known exactly what to say with me.”
“Would you really have forced me to come here?” Great. I’d done it again. “See what I mean? I say things I shouldn’t.”
“I would never have had to force you. I’m really good at coercion.”
“But you told me I had no choice.”
“And that was enough. You agreed to come along. Did you really think I didn’t have any other tactics than that?”
“You’re so fucking arrogant.”
He grinned. “I prefer when you call it confident.”
“What if I’d kept saying no?”
“Not a chance.”
Was he truly that sure of himself? “There’s always a chance, isn’t there?”
“Not when it comes to me getting what I want. People don’t just obey me because they’re scared of me. Most of them want to do what I say.”
9
Xavier
Emilio looked away from me, and a blush spread over his cheeks. He wanted to do what I said. I could sense it. What would he do if I ordered him to his knees right there? I wanted to so badly. I needed to find out what his mouth felt like. I needed to compare…
Fuck. Now I was hard, and I wasn’t about to excuse myself to go jerk off. I was here to protect him, not to indulge myself.
It hadn’t even been that long since I’d ended things with my most recent girlfriend, Meghan. I’d enjoyed her company and hoped we’d remain friends, but while the sex had been good, there was something missing. some level of passion I’d still never felt for anyone but Sandra—damnable woman. She infuriated me and beguiled me, and she’d done a damn fine job raising our son.
I’d been so young when I was with her, and I’d convinced myself that sort of passion might not be possible now that I was older and way more jaded. Then Emilio stepped into the surveillance van, and my heart had fucking skipped a beat as I’d watched him.
I’d thought—hoped—it was just adrenaline.
Yeah, no. It was real as fuck.
Something caught my eye, movement in the trees. I was on my feet instantly. I grabbed Emilio’s arm and yanked him from his seat, ignoring his protest. I tossed him over my shoulder and ran for the house. I needed to get him inside so I could deal with whatever the fuck was out there.
As we entered the sunroom, more movement caught my eye. There was too little protection here. The walls were nearly all glass. I knelt and laid Emilio on the floor covering him with my body as a black cat streaked toward the patio from the tree line and jumped the fence surrounding the pool.
I waited there, heart pounding, hand on my gun. Had I really just run from a fucking cat?
“X? What…”
I shook my head. We needed to wait. It was still possible there was someone out there and their movement had startled the cat. My instincts told me there wasn’t, though. I was on such a hair trigger I was ready to jump at anything because no way in hell was I letting anyone near Emilio. I would not fail him.
Slowly, I holstered my gun and turned to look at him. Whatever explanation I might’ve given for my actions fizzled in my mind as my body acknowledged the firmness of him under me. My cock swelled, and I wondered if he could feel it just before I realized he’d had the same reaction to our bodies being pressed together, except he knew he was gay, and I… I’d never had this happen with a man before.
I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if that was crazy. I wanted him.
He stared up at me, his breathing shallow and a mix of fear and wonder in his eyes. He looked… worshipful. He honestly thought I was the hero he needed. That’s what he expected me to be.
That confidence in me, the way he seemed to need me, did things to me, made me want, made me crave.
I touched his cheek, brushing my finger over his skin, which was smooth and soft. I wondered how it would feel in the evening with the shadowy hint of a beard there, like it had been when we’d arrived on the island. I hadn’t bothered to shave like he had. Thomas Carrington kept his firm jaw cleanly shaven, but X liked to have a beard because he didn’t have time for shaving when people’s lives were on the line.