Page 23 of Iridescent
As we approach the house, I set my sunglasses on the dashboard and smooth my dress, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My pulse is still jumpy from all the crying, and I can’t stop wondering if my makeup is a mess.
Xavier curses under his breath. Instead of continuing toward the villa, he veers off into a small alcove beneath a stand of jacaranda trees and kills the engine. The spot is tucked away from the main drive, screened by branches and vines.
The sudden quiet is deafening; even the air feels trapped between us.
He doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Chapter 5
Isteal a glance at my husband.
He is staring straight ahead through the windshield, his knuckles pale around the steering wheel, his jaw locked so tight a muscle jumps in his cheek.
My throat goes dry.
I part my lips. “What—”
Xavier turns toward me, grips the back of my neck, and pulls me into a hard, desperate kiss.
A gasp bursts from me, swallowed by his lips as he deepens the kiss. It is fierce and desperate, tasting of apology, regret, and need all at once.
My mind goes blank, every thought surrendering to the heat of his mouth.
I melt into him with a whimper. He groans when I kiss him back just as hungrily, his grip tightening as he pulls me closer. He kisses me like he’s trying to consume me whole, as if letting me go would destroy him.
It’s messy and breathless, so intense a bolt of desire spears throughme.
I taste salt on his lips—my tears, his, I am not sure—and the faint coppery trace of blood from where I bit my lip. Beneath it, there is the lingering sweetness of wine he drank hours ago, darker now. Headier. Unmistakably him.
Dizzy relief floods me as I realize how much I’ve missed this.
Missed him.
It’s been months since I’ve felt his touch, and I hate how greedy I am for it.
His hand slides into my hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp sting across my scalp as he pulls it free from the chignon.
He’s never liked my hair up.
Except when I’m on my knees for him—and even then, he prefers it loose, wrapped around his fist.
I clutch at the front of his shirt, fisting the crisp fabric, desperate to pull him even closer. To feel him. My pulse is hammering so hard I swear I can hear it between our mingled breaths.
A familiar heat is already unfurling low in my belly, spreading like wildfire through my veins. God, I’ve ached for this—for him to touch me, to want me—more than I can put into words. A ragged moan vibrates against my lips as I pour months’ worth of loneliness and longing into kissing him back.
Xavier tears his mouth from mine suddenly, leaving me reeling. I’m about to protest when I feel his lips trail hot and urgent along my jaw, then down my throat.
He drags his tongue over the sensitive hollow at the base of my neck, teeth scraping lightly in a way that makes me shudder.
“À moi.” I hear him whisper harshly against my skin, his voice strained. His free hand is roaming now, skimming down my side, fingertips digging in just enough to make me arch. It’s like he needs to touch every part of me at once.
His lips find the fluttering pulse at my neck and latch on. He sucks and bites at the delicate skin there, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough that I know he wants to leave a mark.
Pleasure zings down my spine and I can’t hold back a whimper. I angle my head, giving him full access, silently begging for more. My fingers slip into his thick dark hair, nails grazing his scalp as I hold him to me.
“Xavier…” I breathe, my voice coming out in a shattered gasp. I’m not even sure what I’m pleading for.
