When he’d said he was going to talk to his father her world had ended for a moment. When he’d made it clear he was willing to take a step that might end what they were building here, and it had made her feel like the earth had simply run out, and she was standing on the edge of a cliff waiting to fall, she’d known she had to shore up her defenses.
And now he was here, and he was saying things. Romantic things. Things that had nothing to do with sex or convenience or honor, and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t handle it.
This she could do. This was all they needed. He just had to remember that. She would make him remember. That this was good. That it was enough.
“Take me,” she begged against his lips. “Hard. Now.”
But he didn’t obey. He kept kissing her, his lips so tender and sweet it made her ache. She didn’t want to ache. She didn’t want to care.
She didn’t want to love or be loved. She didn’t want to care about anything. About whether or not they called her the Zombie Princess, or if Xander thought she was beautiful. If Xander stayed with her forever or only for a few months.
She didn’t want to care about any of it.
It was too frightening. It asked too much.
“Stop it,” she said, pushing against his chest, pushing him against the back wall. “Stop being gentle. Kiss me like you mean it.” Like there was nothing else. Like the press didn’t exist. Hard enough that he could made her forget, long enough that she wouldn’t be able to breathe. That she might drown in it. In this.
She kissed him again, and she felt his fingers lace through her hair, and he tugged hard, drawing her head back. Yes. This was what she wanted.
“I have to look at you for a moment,” he said. “You’re lovely.” He traced her ruined lips with his thumb, holding her still with his other hand, forked deep in her hair.
She shook her head. “I don’t need you to lie.”
“It’s not a lie. Any man that misses your beauty is a fool.”
“He’s a man who has eyes, Xander.” The whole world had eyes. And they didn’t like what they saw.
He kissed her hard, a punishment for her talking back. The kind of kiss she wanted. The kind she reveled in. “You should know this, Layna,” he said, his voice rough. “Beauty, the kind on your skin, is terribly vain.”
“Inner beauty, Xander? Is that what we’re talking about?”
“No. For the love of God, woman, do you honestly believe that a rough patch of skin takes away who you are? Takes away your allure? Your beauty? Your lips...your hair and eyes. Agape, they are worthy of any man’s praise.”
She could feel the cracks in her defenses widening. Could feel herself, her resolve, weakening.
“But I don’t need praise,” she said. “I need you, here and now.”
“Sex is all you want?” he asked, a strange note to his voice.
“Sex and a partnership. Anything else is gratuitous.”
He tugged her hair harder, kissed her throat. “I can show you gratuitous if you really want.”
“Yes,” she said.
He leaned down and picked her up, carrying her over to the desk, which was quite clean—and she had the vague thought that it was a good thing it was—and set her down on top of it, stripping himself of his clothes as quickly as possible. “Take them off,” he said to her. “All of them.”
And she obeyed. From her position on the desk she stripped off her top, pants, underwear and shoes, and stayed perched on the edge while he positioned himself between her thighs. He braced his hands on her hips and slid slowly, making her aware of every inch of him as he entered her.
He lifted one hand and gripped her chin. “Look at me,” he demanded.
“No.” She didn’t know exactly why, but she couldn’t.
“Look at me, Layna,” he said, thrusting hard into her.
“Xander, please...”
Her eyes flew to his, shock preventing her from doing anything else. From thinking it through. And the minute she saw him, really saw him, her heart started to feel too big for its cage. She looked down again, squeezing her eyes closed.
“Don’t shut me out,” he said.
“Xander...”
“I love you.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, closing her eyes tighter, a tear tracking down her cheek.
“Layna, I love you.” He kept moving inside of her, his thrusts matching the terrified rhythm of her heart, as he drove her to the brink with his body while his words delivered fatal damage to the walls surrounding her heart.
“No. Don’t love me. Don’t ask me to love you.”
He cupped her face and kissed her lips, moving hard and deep within her, his mouth covering hers, swallowing her denial, and the cry of pleasure that followed it as her orgasm crashed over her in a perfect storm of agony and ecstasy.