I groaned as his hand found its way beneath the silk sheets—for the third damn time tonight.

“Xander,” I mumbled, my voice low and exasperated. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” he asked, voice deep and utterly unapologetic as his fingers trailed up my thigh.

I didn’t have to look to know that maddening smirk was on his face—the one that always spelled trouble. The one that meant my legs wouldn’t be touching the ground for at least another hour.

“You’re obsessed with me,” I accused, dragging a pillow over my face.

“Guilty,” he said, far too proud. “Can you blame me, Raven? You’re my Queen. My addiction. My...