Page 92 of Xander

The part of me that had felt so lonely for so long couldn’t help but doubt if it was as bad as I made it out to be in my head. After all, my life with him had been significantly better than the one I had left behind.

Albeit heavily guarded, I was allowed to leave the house and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. Xander had seamlessly worked me into his friend group, and I didn’t have to entertain them. Rather, I was a part of their group. The worst thing he had done was trying to impregnate me—and even that was something I desperately wanted. Last, but not least, Xander had put himself in a terrible predicament with Henry because of me.

Stripping away my freedom was my only line in the sand, but Xander hadn’t brought up the conservatorship again. Maybe he changed his mind?

Perhaps this was Stockholm syndrome talking, and that was why I was making excuses for him. However, if I were to be susceptible to such a phenomenon, I would’ve felt a similar pull for Henry, too, right?

My resistance to Xander was crumbling like a pile of dry sand under the weight of his unrelenting attention. I could no longer recall what it was like to be an ignored wife, not since he had filled every moment of my day with his all-consuming attention. He devoured my every thought. His touch electrified me, running through my fingers like currents of desire, leaving me desperate and needy for more.

It wasn’t just his touch, though. I was also desperate to get back the best friend I had in Xander, where we laughed until our stomachs hurt. We shared an incomparable emotional connection—the three little words he said last night were proof of that.

“I love you.”

But what did I feel for Xander?

The way he showered me with meaningful gifts, his time, his devotion, and his words made me think that I was the crazy one for resisting him. If only he would admit to giving up his pursuit of my conservatorship, perhaps my heart would no longer hold back. While he hadn’t brought up the topic again, he also hadn’t taken back his intention.

Xander crawled forward, his biceps flexing as he held himself over me, hovering, his intense gaze fixed on me as usual. At some point, while I had been busy screaming his name, he had shed his clothes, leaving his bare chest and sculpted V exposed for my eyes to feast upon. His hair was sweat-soaked from his efforts and clung to his forehead, somehow adding to his sex appeal.

My God, he was ridiculously hot. It shouldn't be allowed.

Looking at him was enough to send shivers down my spine and make my heart race. I tried to swallow, but the fluttering sensation in my stomach made it difficult.

He leaned forward, devouring me with his lips, a mix of desperation and longing. Our mouths clashed together, and I gave myself over entirely to him, greedily running my hands all over his sculpted body, feeling every hard muscle beneath my fingertips, before finally feeling the soft strands of his hair between my fingers.

He shuddered under my touch, his breath coming in sharp inhales as if he had been longing for my touch, and now that it was happening, it was physically painful. As if this one moment was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Suddenly, he gripped my legs and spread them wide open, his strong thighs wedging themselves between mine. Without hesitation, he positioned himself at my entrance. I was still drenched between my legs from the orgasm he had given me when he plunged inside with a primal force that left us both gasping for air.

“Fuck.” He meshed his teeth together. He pulled back only to thrust inside me harder. “Fuck, jailbird. I’m going to miss this so goddamn much tonight,” he groaned in agony at the thought of the short separation.

My cheeks must be sporting some shade of a deep, red color. “It’s just one night,” I murmured, a little in awe of how tortured he appeared at the idea of being away from me. Henry used to be gone for days on end without so much as a phone call, whereas Xander acted like the idea of a night away was physically killing him.

“I never want to spend even a second away from you,” he replied, his fingers returning to my swollen clit, making me squirm. “I’d rather follow you to your fucking grave than live without you again.”

Hearing him say these crazy things should make me run for the hills, but instead, I wanted to run into his arms. After being unwanted for so long, being wanted to this extent was a drug I’d never tire of. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

But I couldn’t deny that something had shifted between us. Feelings that were already there, but I had refused to peek inside my own head or explore them out of fear of what they meant.

“If you can’t live without me, then why did you leave me in the first place?” The question slipped out of my lips without my permission. It was something I hadn’t been able to move on from. The memory of it had been too painful to revisit, and that image of him walking out of my wedding replayed in my head.

Xander stilled on top of me, his eyes boring into mine with a fierce intensity. “Because I couldn’t watch you be his wife,” he growled so loud that I nearly jumped. “Because you were supposed to be my wife. Not his.”

He angrily pushed inside me hard enough to make me grunt, the sheer force of his thrust almost had my head bang against the headboard.

“Xander—"

“I had to walk away because you didn’t choose me.” His hand wrapped around my throat. When I thought he’d apply pressure, he merely used the hold to keep me in place. “I never again wanted to feel the way I did that day. I spent years building a life, one where I could give you everything so you’d choose me. And he could never, ever take you away from me again.”

He rocked in and out of me with new vigor. Each movement revealed the defined muscles of his abdomen, flexing and rippling.

My thoughts careened, as I bit my lips so hard that I tasted blood. All this time, I thought that I had done something wrong to displease him or push him away when, all along, he had been waiting for me to make the first move. The idea hurt, and on the next thrust, I felt the ache of it everywhere, including my heart. Fuck, Xander.

Xander pressed his lips against my cheek and whispered, the words sending shivers down my spine. “How do you still not understand that you’re everything to me, Jordan? I fucking love you.”

My heart zigzagged inside my chest, unsure where to run. It was the second time he had said those words, and this time, they were ripping me in half for some reason. What he didn’t understand was how much he had meant to me, too. That day when he walked out of the wedding, he broke my heart into a million pieces.

“Tell me you love me, too.” His voice was pleading, almost desperate.