up at her.
His hands lifted up her hips. As if she weighed nothing at all, he lowered her with exquisite slowness, impaling her, causing them both to gasp as he filled her inch by inch. Rose tossed back her head, exposing her neck as her eyes rolled back with the pleasure. He guided her, allowing her to establish her own rhythm, teaching her to ride him. Tension coiled inside her deep and fast, and when she finally exploded, she screamed. He plunged inside her with a final deep thrust, shouting her name with a bestial growl that somehow sounded like a prayer. When she collapsed over his body, utterly spent, it took ten minutes before she stopped shaking.
Afterward, as they slept in each other’s arms, Rose opened her eyes to stare blankly at the brilliant sunlight on the ocean.
She could no longer deny her feelings.
Xerxes had seen her at her worst. And he’d accepted her, just as she was. Perhaps because he accepted himself. He knew he wasn’t perfect, so she didn’t need to be, either. They could both have faults, but still be…friends.
Friends?
Friendship did not describe the longing of her heart.
But what she felt could only bring pain. Even if Xerxes cared about her, he would still trade her for Laetitia. In a heartbeat.
“My feelings for Laetitia are more familial in nature,” he’d said. Could she be his cousin? His niece? The daughter of an old friend? Who? Rose wished she knew.
But one thing she did know for sure: Xerxes Novros always kept his promises. And in spite of his best warnings, when she’d given him her body, she’d also given him her heart.
Outside, the sunshine was brilliant and bright, and the morning birds sang sweetly in the blue sky. And Rose silently wept in his arms as he slept.
She was in love with Xerxes. And she knew there was only one way it could end. With her own broken heart.
Xerxes was awakened from a very pleasant dream by a persistent buzzing and rattling sound against the hard tile floor. Blearily, he opened his eyes and saw his cell phone vibrating in his shorts pocket next to the bed. He glanced at Rose, hoping it hadn’t woken her. It hadn’t. A smile traced his lips at how peacefully she slept, his kittenish beauty.
Careful not to jostle her—they’d gotten so little sleep, it would be cruel to wake her for anything but sex—he climbed out of bed and carried the phone outside the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. “Novros.”
“This time we’ve found her, boss,” his chief bodyguard said tersely. “Montez is sure.”
Ten minutes later, Xerxes was shaved, showered and dressed. He returned to the bedroom filled with nervous energy. His hand reached out to shake Rose’s shoulder and awaken her, then he paused, looking down at her.
He could still hardly believe she’d been a virgin before yesterday. And that she’d deliberately chosen him, of all men on earth, to be her first lover. He shivered, remembering all the times they’d made love in the last twenty-four hours. He should have been satiated, but looking at her now, he very nearly forgot his mission and climbed back into bed.
Then he stopped himself. No. He had a lead on Laetitia and couldn’t blow it. He had to focus. If he could find Laetitia, he could save her.
And then he could keep Rose for himself.
If he could really be that selfish to keep her, knowing she would be better off with a better man, instead of with a ruthless, heartless bastard like him.
Xerxes looked down at her, and his whole body hardened. Yes, he thought grimly. He could be that selfish. At this moment, he would kill any man who tried to take her away from him.
Reaching out, he lightly shook Rose’s shoulder. “Wake up,” he said in a low voice. “We need to go.”
“Go?” She yawned, stretching her body across the bed, from her hands to her toes. “Go where?”
The sheet had fallen from her body, leaving her upper body bare. His back broke out in a hot sweat at the sight of those lusciously full breasts, the pink tips that he’d suckled just hours before, cupping them in his hands as he…Xerxes shuddered.
Forcefully, he made himself look away from her, before he forgot such minor details like promises and honor and jumped into bed with her for another twenty-four hours. Clenching his hands into fists, he forced himself not to touch her, to have some self-control. “Mexico.”
“Mexico?” She sounded bewildered. “Why? Do you have business there?”
He cleared his throat, unwilling to explain. “In a manner of speaking. Get dressed. My assistant is already packing your bikinis. And the rest of your wardrobe.”
“What wardrobe?” she demanded. “I only have bikinis thanks to you!”
“I might have sent away for more clothes.”
“When was that?”
“A few hours after we arrived.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her furious voice ended with a squeak that made him grin. He almost turned to look at her, then stopped himself just in time before he got another image of her sprawled naked across the bed. Christ, he only had so much willpower—he was only a man! He hurried toward the door. “The suitcase is still packed beneath the bed. We leave in ten minutes.”
But once again, his foolish hopes of finding Laetitia proved destined for failure. As soon as their jet arrived in Cabo San Lucas, he dropped Rose off without explanation at a luxury gated villa in the hills. He drove with bodyguards in an open Jeep, going north on a dirt road to the little desert village in Baja California.
At a shabby little casita, he knocked on the door. Xerxes heard a woman’s low moan inside, and adrenaline ripped through his body. Shouting Laetitia’s name, he kicked open the door.
He found a woman lying on a small bed, a brunette Laetitia’s size with bandages on her face. For a moment, he’d believed that after all these months, he’d finally found her.
Then he’d heard the language the woman was shouting. German? It turned out she was a wealthy businesswoman from Berlin who’d come to recover from her face-lift in privacy and seclusion. Xerxes had only convinced her not to call the police through substantial cash compensation.
Cash that would come out of his payment to Montez, Xerxes thought, gritting his teeth, for feeding his chief bodyguard such faulty information.
But in his heart Xerxes did not blame the investigator. He blamed only himself. He was the one who’d failed Laetitia, again and again over the past year. And she was still out there somewhere. Dying. Alone.
They drove back to Cabo San Lucas in silence. Entering the villa, Xerxes felt hollowed out. He walked through the heavily embellished oak door with his shoulders hunched. Wearily, he pushed open the door, and the hinges squealed like nails on a chalkboard, the harsh noise scraping his soul.
Then at that moment, he heard a miracle that soothed the pain in his heart. Rose’s sweet, clear voice.
“I’m so glad you’re home!”
Slowly,
