Off Her Rockers (Loving All Wrong #3.5) (39 page)

Unable to wait a moment longer to have it inside me, I hiked up my dress and shifted my underwear aside. Sparing not another second, I hungrily sank down on him. All of him. Crying out in sheer joy at the feel of him—his ridiculous size—filling me.

“Ohgod, Xavi,” I gasped, wanting to sing with happiness, to recite a poem.

Just as I was about to begin the ride o’ pleasure, to ride us both to Jupiter and back, Xavier clamped his hands on my hips and stilled me. He curled up his torso and drew back against the headboard with me still on him.

I waited impatiently for him to find a comfortable position. Not annoyed, just
hungry
. I knew that of all the adjustments to be made on account of his missing leg, sex positions would be the biggest of them all. I had no problem with that.

Once his hands left my hips and drifted up to my breasts again, I bit my bottom lip and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as I resumed the journey to Jupiter.

So good. So, so good, I
chanted in my head.

With a low groan, Xavier whispered, “Chino?”

“Hmmmmmm?”

“Thanks for never asking about my leg.”

“What about your leg?” I paused, frowning, even though he couldn’t see it through the darkness. “Is something wrong with your leg?”

He chuckled something soft and sweet, something low and deep. “Truth is, losing to you is more victory than defeat.”

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

U
NLESS BY CONTRACT,
I
WASN’T AN
EARLY RISER
.

That said, I was up before everyone else in the house the next morning. Enthused, unrestrained, embracing the burn between my legs. A sweet reminder of what it felt like to get screwed with a
real
dick. A leg was gone, but the dick was healthier than ever, still inflicting euphoric internal damage.

I snuck out of bed and smiled down at my two favorite men. Upon Xavier’s insistence that we sleep in his bed last night, I’d went to fetch a sleeping Jacob. Tucking both of us on either side of him, he’d mumbled, “This” and fell instantly asleep.

With careful, quiet movements, I pried open Xavier’s chest box at the foot of the bed, stole the blueprint, scurried off to my room, and hid it in one of my overly large handbags.

A permanent grin on my face, I scampered around like a spring chicken, showered, made myself pretty, and then prepared breakfast.

Chloe was the first one up, as usual—it was expected of her. She found me in the dining area setting the table, breakfast already prepared. She blinked at it all, seemingly unsure what to do with herself. This was
her
job, after all.

“Never had a morning off?” I asked her when she just stood there watching me.

She shook her head and I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking over your territory. I’m just in a good mood this morning. And when I’m happy, I always make breakfast.”

“And when zu…not happy?”

“Starbucks.”

Her mouth formed an ‘O’ as she finally moved from where she’d been planted and came to help me set the table.

Mick was up some minutes later. Not long after that I heard Jacob’s cheeky giggle traveling from Xavier’s room.

Abandoning Mick and Chloe, I skipped off to Xavier’s room to get Jacob. I found him on the floor at the side of the bed poking at Xavier’s prosthetic leg as he, with gentle care and focus, attached it to his stump.

Seeing his leg like that again in its raw realness was saddening. Knowing that without that makeshift leg, he was damaged goods.

But not unwanted.

Not rejected.

Not unloved.

He was
my
damaged goods.

Mindful not to let him catch me staring at his leg, I walked inside the room and bent at the waist to pick up Jacob from the floor.

“Leave him,” Xavier said without looking up from his task. “We were bonding.”

“We wert bonden!” Jacob agreed.

“He was poking you,” I said. “Repeatedly.”

Task on pause, he looked up at me under his brows. “Leg’s fake, Chino. Can poke all he wants. Not feeling it.”

“You want help with that?” I asked, jerking my chin at his charge. Yet I regretted asking the second the words were out of my mouth. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel like less of a king.

His attention went back to his leg. “Not a goddamn invalid.”

“I-I was just—”

“No,” he bit out, the word a cold, bitter sting. “Don’t need your damn help.”

And there it was. I just ruined everything.

I lingered in front of him for a few awkward seconds, noting the sudden sharpness and aggressiveness in his movements which had been gentle before.

Unsure of what else to say and at the same time not wanting to say anything else to further darken his mood, I turned and left the room. Safer choice.

We made love last night. We slept together. We talked. But it didn’t mean things were good with us again. He hadn’t made a decision about me yet. I’d begged him not to. And I didn’t want to push my luck. So, giving him some breathing space, some headspace to remind himself that he might be broken but not unfixable, was indeed the safer choice.

Sagaciously, I forwent breakfast and took my time bathing and grooming Jacob instead. Clipped his nails, cleaned his ears, and brushed his hair…

When I ran out of things to do, I inconspicuously slipped into the kitchen to get the breakfast platter I’d prepared for Jacob earlier, and fed him on the couch in the living room.

I could hear them in the dining room laughing and jesting over breakfast like a joyful family. A family I wasn’t a part of.

Yet.

Breakfast seemed to go on for
ever
in there, or maybe it was just me, vibrating with impatience to haul Xavier out and convince him to choose me, again. One final time.

Over an hour later, Mick and Xavier finally dragged themselves into the living room. I kept my focus on Jacob, building blocks with him on the carpet, pretending I wasn’t hyperaware of every breath Xavier took.

“Chloe told us you’re the one who made breakfast,” said Mick around a mild cough, easing down into his recliner across the room. “Why didn’t you eat with us?”

“I wasn’t hungry,” I lied. I’d been starving, but had settled for picking off Jacob’s platter.

Mick gave me a “yeah, right” eyebrow arch and reached for his pipe on the side table.

“Said you got something to show me?” Xavier grunted from above me. He was still wearing his bad mood like an ominous black hoodie, but his tone wasn’t as biting as it had been earlier.

Instead of craning my neck to look up at him, I flicked my gaze to Mick. As I expected, he was quick in noticing my intent and gave me an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied. “Lemme go grab our coats.”

Mick chipped in, “I’ll keep the boy until you kids get back. It’s too cold out there for him.”

Xavier frowned. “What you wanna show me isn’t here?”

“No.” I stood.

Mick leaned forward, held his arms out, and beckoned Jacob.

Scrambling up with a big grin, Jacob pattered across the room and straight into Mick’s arms.

Chasing after him, I cupped his face and smacked kisses on both his cheeks. “You could show a little less enthusiasm about getting away from me,
son
.”

“I luv a‘kay?” Hmmm. I was beginning to think he used that line on me whenever he felt guilty.

“Love you, too, son of a rock star.”

Straightening, I avoided eye contact with Xavier as I all but jogged to my room to get my coat. Just in time to catch my phone dancing across the dresser. Davian. It had to be.

Shrugging on my coat, I walked over to the dresser and scooped up my phone. Six missed calls. Not from Davian. From Xena.

There were also two text messages:

Alina, I need your help.

Please call me.

******

Hey, I know we’re in the middle of a war, and yes I’m still mad at you, but Xavi has run off again. Dad said he’s not with him this time. We’re really worried
.
And I don’t know where else to look.

Please. Help.

Deleting the text messages, I grabbed up my handbag and padded back into the living area, my eyes immediately seeking out Xavier.

He’d donned his coat and was twirling his car keys around his fingers, smiling at Mick and Jacob. All ready to go.

“You
left
without telling them?” I snapped out, surprising myself with the anger in my voice.

Xavier’s bored gaze found mine. “Was suffocating.”

“And that makes it okay for you to just up and leave without telling anyone? After all they’ve been through for almost half a year? How selfish could you be?!” I was damn near shouting by the end.

Unfazed, Xavier simply kicked up an eyebrow. “Asks the queen of selfishness herself. Told you, I’m changed.”

“
No
.” I breezed up to him, getting up close and personal, poking at his chest. “No. Stop trying to be me. I’m the worst example.
The worst
. Don’t change who you are because you can’t help loving an undeserving, pathetic excuse for a woman like me. I need you. I need the good in you. If you become me, then there’s no hope for us, Xavi. None. I
need
your light.”

Obstinacy pulled his jaw tight. “I’m thinking there was never any hope for us, to begin with.” He wasn’t budging.

Aaargh!

I whirled on Mick, who had Jacob in his lap. “And
you
,”—they both watched me like I was turning green and growing venous muscles—, “you told them he wasn’t here?”

Mick showed no remorse. “I was kept entirely in the dark while
my
son was laying half-dead in the hospital. They deserve to feel exactly how I felt, worrying every night about m’boy.”

Shaking my head, I turned away from Mick. Between him and Xavier, I had better chances getting through to Xavier. Mick was a man stuck in his views, and he would probably launch into an analogical tale to support his decision, and while I loved his tales, I wasn’t in the mood for one at the moment.

Attention back on Xavier, I demanded, “Call your sister and let her know you’re alright and not hanging from a tree somewhere.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up slightly into a quasi-smirk. He ceased twirling his car keys and crossed his arms over his chest. “Make me.”

Of course, this was a joke to him. He didn’t know how much I’d grown to love Xena and hated the fact that she was going batty with worry—even though she kind of deserved it for how she treated me. My fingers curled into fists. “
Call
her, Xavi!”

My balled-up fists attracted his attention, and he full-on smirked. What was that? He never smirks. He just wasn’t the smirking kind. “
Or
…?”

I was fuming. He was freaking taunting me.

Mick cautioned, “I think you’re in trouble, son.”

“Trobu!” Jacob concurred.

“What’s she gonna do?” Xavier grinned then. “Her arms are like twigs. Even with one leg I could topple h—“

Thwack
!

Epic punch fail. I swung up a fist to punch him but he was quicker than I was and smacked my fist to the side before it could reach him. As effortless as the move was for him,
I
was shifted a little to the side, his force was so strong.

“Gotta try harder than—”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Fail. Fail. Fail.

He knocked away my punches with such ease, while I was pitifully giving it all I had, exhausting myself.
Goddamn, Samson.

“Mhrgrrhhhh!!” I growled in my throat and began slapping at him with wild hands.

With uproarious laughter, he began inching back, mimicking me and combating my slaps with his own, so we were in a full-on cat fight. Or rather, cat to lion fight.

“Look at her, Dad!” he said through a boisterous laugh, louder than I’d ever heard him laugh. “Look at her arms, they’re like toothpicks. Should I snap one?”

That had me swinging wilder, and Xavier laughed harder.

“Let her have at it, son. She’ll get tired in a minute.”

“I’m not….sure I…like you anymore…Mick,” I huffed out through labored breathing. I really was wearing myself out.