Riding solo

Every move Xavier made was precise and calculated, like a well-rehearsed dance. Despite his rugged appearance, he handled the delicate figure in the tub with gentle care, his muscles straining under the weight. As the drops of water dripped down her body, they seemed to sizzle on his skin, stirring up unwanted desires that he tried desperately to push away. He gently wrapped her in a plush towel, his large hands wrapping around her small frame as he did so. With careful steps, he carried her to the bed. His touch was gentle and tender, like that of a man who knew how to break and heal hearts.

"Rest," he murmured, more to himself than to the unconscious form now sprawled on the sheets. He needed to distance himself to block out the intimacy he had not sought but found himself trapped in.

The stinging spray of the shower was a blessing. But it did little to cleanse the thoughts that clung to him like Cathleen's scent. Xavier Knight, the man who had commanded empires, was now grappling