The Devious Husband: Sierra and Xavier’s Story (The Windsors)

I hesitate as I park my car in front of Xavier’s garage at nearly ten in the evening, having stayed at the office far longer than I needed to. The thought of facing him makes me nervous in a way it never did before, and it’s got everything to do with how weird Xavier’s been acting lately, and the way he kissed me in his beautiful library.

He’s been so unlike himself that I’m not sure what to make of him. I’ve taken to avoiding him as best as I can, and much to my surprise, he hasn’t said anything about it. It’s almost like he expected it. Part of me thought he’d make a fuss and would inconvenience me unnecessarily, but he’s merely kept to himself. Most days, it’s easy to forget we’re married at all, until I get home and find him in our bed without a shirt on, his expression conveying something I could swear is longing.

My mornings with him are even worse. He holds me so tightly every morning, and the way his body feels against mine leaves me desperate for him. In a matter of days, he’s managed to completely confuse me, and I hate it. I was so certain I knew what I was getting into by marrying him, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I take a deep breath as I step out of the car, my heart racing as I walk into the house. It’s surreal that I live here now, in the same home I’ve broken into so many times, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. My steps falter as I reach the doorway to Xavier’s bedroom and find him sitting in bed, the sheets bunched around his naked torso and his laptop on his lap. He looks up and smiles, and my heart goes wild. “Kitten,” he drawls.

“What is with your personal vendetta against tops?” I snap, unable to keep myself from sneaking a few looks at his wide chest and strong arms.

He chuckles and drops his head back against the headboard, looking up at me from lowered lashes. “I wear shirts and ties every day, wifey. Why would I want to wear them at home too?”

Wifey? My face heats at the sound of that word on his lips, and I tear my gaze off him as I rush into the bathroom. I take my time in the shower, trying my best to calm my nerves and failing.

Xavier’s eyes light up when he spots me walking in wearing one of his t-shirts, and he smirks. “Those look infinitely better on you than they do on me,” he remarks when I get into bed with him, his voice soft.

My gaze cuts to his, and I try my best to determine whether or not he’s joking, mocking me somehow, but he seems earnest, and it just doesn’t make any sense. I narrow my eyes at him and reach for my own laptop, determined to work for another hour and absolutely refusing to let him distract me with his stupid abs and that lazy smirk.

“Place a small coffeeshop there to increase foot traffic,” Xavier says, leaning in to look at my screen.

My first instinct is to snap my laptop closed, but I resist and reluctantly acknowledge that he’s right. “How did you know I’d been wondering how to increase foot traffic?”

He chuckles and moves closer, throwing his arm around the back of my pillow, not quite close enough to touch my shoulders, but close enough for me to instantly be hyperaware of him. A thrill runs down my spine when he leans in further to take a better look at my screen, giving me a perfect view of his abs as his side presses against my arm. It’s unfair how perfect his body is, and I hate that I can’t help but notice it.

“I know you,” he says, his voice filled with something I can’t quite define. Possessiveness, perhaps? “Actually, I think you might just have enough space to put in a food court.”

I raise a brow and turn to face him, only to freeze in place when I realize how close he is. My breath hitches, and his gaze drops to my mouth. “This is weird,” I whisper. He tenses almost imperceptibly, and I instantly feel compelled to finish my thought, not wanting him to misunderstand. “I’m so used to protecting my projects from your prying eyes and hands that this is a little weird. You’re usually trying to steal my projects from me, and I honestly kind of hate to admit that your input is helpful.”

Xavier grins and reaches for me, making the butterflies in my stomach go wild. He wraps a strand of my hair around his finger, his gaze roaming over my face. “I’ve never stolen any of your projects,” he denies, grinning in a way I can’t quite resist.

“What?” I ask, my voice a lot more husky than I intended. “You’ve never stolen projects from me? You’re kidding me, right?”

He lets go of my hair and lightly caresses my cheek with the tip of his fingers. “Nope. Not a single one.”

I stare at him wide-eyed, fury slowly taking hold of me. “You damn liar,” I snap. “Artemis was mine,” I tell him, reminding him of the theatre he stole from me, right along with its design plans. “And don’t get me started on how your two best restaurants, The Siren and Renegade, were both supposed to be mine too.” I glare at him as I rack my brain, trying to recall every major project he’s stolen from me over the years.

“Didn’t steal them,” he says, shrugging as his gaze roams over my face, a hint of glee in his irritatingly sexy eyes. “It was simply meant to be. Not even you can fight fate, can you?”

“You absolutely insane bullheaded piece of —” I’m tempted to scream into a pillow, but instead, I turn my head and bite down on the arm he’s got wrapped around me.

Xavier tenses his muscles and bursts out laughing as he wraps his hand into my hair. I pull back to look at him, wishing I’d had the heart to actually bite him hard enough to hurt. “You think this is funny?” I all but growl.

He tightens his grip on my hair, his breathing a little uneven as he smiles at me. “Aren’t you cute, my sweet little Kitten?” He brings my face closer to his, the feel of his fingers against my scalp doing something funny to me. His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips, and my heart begins to pound wildly. “I don’t know what I love more, your cute little fangs, or those claws of yours that you won’t show anyone but me.”

His nose brushes against mine, and I whimper involuntarily, my entire body flooding with desire. “If you want to bite something,” he murmurs, his forehead dropping to mine. “Might I suggest my lips?”

“You think I won’t?” I ask, moving just a touch closer, my body buzzing with equal parts adrenaline and desire.

“I dare you to,” my husband whispers against my mouth, and I give in, trapping his bottom lip between my teeth. He tightens his grip on my hair and groans as he kisses me, rapidly taking control. His movements are both slow and determined as he deepens our kiss and pulls me on top of him, letting me feel just how hard he is. The thought of him wanting me that desperately only fuels my own desire, and I can’t help but moan as he moves his tongue against mine just right.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers against my mouth. He starts to move his hips, and the way he feels between my legs is maddening. I gasp when a jolt of desire rushes through me, one hand wrapping in his hair as the other begins to roam over his chest and abs, my inhibitions fading away. My breath hitches when his hands move underneath my t-shirt, his thumb brushing over my panties. My hips involuntarily move against his hands, my need for him taking on a life of its own.

Xavier groans and kisses me harder. “You’re wet,” he groans against my mouth as he pushes the fabric aside and brushes his thumb over my clit.

I moan loudly, unable to help myself. “Xavier,” I beg, my grip on his hair tightening as I pull his mouth back on mine. He circles my clit, slowly pushing me toward an orgasm, and I moan against his lips, unable to take it. “Please,” I whisper, my legs trembling.

Xavier pulls back to look at me, forcing me to face him as he keeps me on the edge. “Please what?” he asks, toying with me. “You want to come for me, don’t you?” he says, smirking as his touch becomes rougher, faster. “I’ll give you what you want if you ask nicely.”

“You’re insufferable,” I tell him, pushing my hips against his hands harder, riding his hand desperately. I’m so close, and he knows it.

“And you’re beautiful,” he whispers, just as my muscles begin to contract, my moans becoming incoherent. “Yes,” he groans, his eyes filled with desire. “Come for your husband, Kitten.”

My forehead drops to his shoulder, my breathing erratic as wave after wave of pleasure rushes through me, making me lightheaded. Xavier turns his head to kiss my cheek, his arms wrapping around me as he hugs me tightly, keeping reality at bay for a few more moments.

He gently strokes my back as my breathing evens out, and all of a sudden, I’m too scared to lift my head, when I’d been so bold moments ago. “You’ve got some work to finish, don’t you?” he whispers, almost like he’s giving me an out, like he knows how vulnerable I suddenly feel. Xavier presses another kiss to my cheek, and I pull back a little, keeping my gaze downcast.

He chuckles and pinches my chin, lifting my face before he leans in and kisses me, slowly, leisurely, before pulling away. Our eyes lock, and he smiles so sweetly that I can’t help but blush as I scramble off him and grab my laptop. I thought he’d taunt me, but he just moves onto his side and watches me as I pretend to work for over an hour, until eventually, his breathing deepens, and he falls asleep.

Xavier has always confused me, but never as much as he does these days. I thought I’d be intensely unhappy being married to him, but instead, he’s slowly filling me with hope that I absolutely shouldn’t be feeling — hope that maybe, just maybe, Grandma was right about him.