by Sadie Moss
Saint stares at me like I’m something that’s dropped out of the sky. I don’t know what to do with that—what to do with someone who looks at me like this.
Like I’m something that evokes awe and reverence.
“You might not believe it, and that’s okay,” I tell him softly. “But I know that you’re a good person. You protected me and looked out for me. You did something that I know you hated to do, because you didn’t want me to have to go through it. Nick considers you a friend. Logan always asked about you after I went to visit you at Darkstone. And you’ve been… we’ve been…” I clear my throat. “I mean, we’ve been friends, at least, while I’ve visited you, haven’t we? That’s not how it would be if you were a monster. You’re a man, a good man, and I will continue to believe that. And I’ll keep believing it for you until you do.”
Saint’s throat moves as he swallows. His nostrils flare with every breath, and he doesn’t look away from me even as something warm and heavy builds in the air between us.
Then he leans forward slowly, as if giving me time to back away, and presses our foreheads together. It feels like the most intimate thing I’ve ever done, in some ways. More intimate than kissing.
It feels like he trusts me. Like he’s trying to tell me something that he can’t express with words, so he’s doing this instead.
Unlike with most of my previous kisses, I know, deep inside myself, that I’m going to have to be the one to initiate this.
And I want to.
More than anything, I want to.
So I lean in, tilting my head as I press my lips to Saint’s.
Chapter 15
Saint responds at once, and the sheer force of his desire nearly overwhelms me.
It’s like a dam breaking—like he was hoping for this but didn’t dare let himself believe it could happen. He leans into me, and it’s just as passionate and intense as the first kiss we shared, but it’s also slower and more sure. Not as frantic. Like he knows now that he’s got time, that we’re not going to be ripped apart.
It’s reassuring, actually. It reminds me that we do, in fact, have time. We’re at my home, and nobody’s going to come barging in.
I push up against him too, grabbing on to his shoulders, and Saint gives a pleased sort of grunt and grabs my hips, pulling me off my chair and into his lap.
To look at him, you’d think Saint is a hard person, all sharp edges and harsh lines. But he’s not. With my body pressed flush against his, my knees braced on either side of his hips, I don’t feel anything but softness and warmth.
He’s solid, but he’s not hard.
He also smells so fucking good I want to inhale him. I want to breathe him in until I’ve imprinted that scent on my soul and call it up at will. There’s something almost smoky about it, something dark and rich, and it’s as addictive as the man himself is.
I lean deeper into our kiss, threading my fingers through his short dark hair as my lips move against his. We make out like that for a long time before either one of us takes things further—not because we don’t want more, but because we’re enjoying this so much that it’s hard to stop. He’s got just a hint of stubble on his jaw, and it scrapes against my skin with a delicious rasp as he finally tears his lips from mine and trails them down over my jawline and throat.
I tilt my head back, giving him more access to explore, and his hands fall to the buttons on my shirt.
“May I?” he murmurs.
Of course he asks. Of course this man who’s so convinced that he’s a monster is so caring and gentle that he waits to get confirmation from me.
“Yes.” I nod emphatically, my nipples already hardening just from the thought of losing a single layer of clothing in front of Saint. “Please.”
He works his way up from the bottom, undoing each button with a slow deliberation that drives me crazy in the best way. I’m about two seconds away from tearing it off Superman style and sending buttons flying when he reaches the last few and finally begins to speed up, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer.
As soon as the front falls open, he seems to forget all about actually removing my shirt. His gaze falls to my breasts, and something hungry and almost awed gleams in his light gray eyes. My bra isn’t anything spectacular, but he doesn’t seem to care about that at all. Pushing my shirt open wider, he cups my breasts in both hands, running his thumbs over my peaked nipples.
Pleasure shoots straight to my clit, and I squeeze my thighs around his waist as a low noise escapes me. Saint’s gaze shoots up to my face, bouncing back and forth between my eyes and my boobs as he continues to tease my nipples—as if he can’t decide which he wants to watch more. He must be getting a spectacular show whenever he looks at my face, because I can’t control my expression or my reactions.
He’s barely touching me, just that gentle brush of his thumbs over my nipples, but it’s not so much about the action as it is about the man doing it.
It’s Saint.
He’s touching me.
He’s touching me without reservation, exploring me as if he’s been waiting to do this for a long time.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and I shrug my shirt all the way off before twisting one arm behind me to unclasp my bra. When I peel that off and toss it aside, I can literally see Saint’s pupils expand. Because of the way I’m straddling him, I can feel the hard heat of his cock at my center, the bulge obvious despite the layers of clothes in the way, so I have no illusions at all about what this is doing to him.
How long has it been for him?
Years, probably.
If that’s the case, he’s showing a hell of a lot of restraint. He’s definitely more patient than I am. I’m practically dry humping him in this chair, so damn eager for more of his touch, more of his heated looks, more of his kisses.
As his warm, calloused palms cup my bare breasts, I lean in to kiss him again, muttering a question against his lips as I grab the hem of his shirt.
“Can I take this off?”
“Yes.”
The single word is practically a growl, and it sends a hot shiver down my spine. I tug his shirt off in a single movement, then lean back a little, my jaw dropping open.
Holy shit.
He’s… gorgeous.
I mean, of course he is. I’ve known since the second I met him that he’s objectively attractive. And as I’ve gotten glimpses past his hard exterior, I’ve come to realize that the person inside is as attractive as the outer packaging. But I’ve never gotten to see him quite like this, and it’s doing crazy things to my heart, my lungs, and a lot of body parts farther south.
He’s cut and defined, his abs ridged in a six-pack and his shoulders broad and heavily muscled. He’s what should appear in the dictionary when someone looks up the word “masculine” because that’s exactly what he is.
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, momentarily distracted from the insanely good feeling of him massaging my breasts. Saint makes a noise in his throat, and when I look up at his face, I’m surprised to see him flushing slightly.
It makes me laugh, breaking the spell a little. I lean in and kiss him, pressing my bare chest against his as he wraps his arms around me again. We lose ourselves in it again, and the making out is even better like this because so much of our bare skin is pressed together, making it feel like there’s an electric current of desire passing back and forth between us.
His cock is pressing right up against my clit, and I can’t help but rock against him, giving both of us a little bit of friction. His groans are like food for my damn soul, and I want more of them—so I finally stop grinding against him, sitting back just enough to pop the button on his worn out pants and drag down the fly. I slip my hand inside to palm his cock, and Saint jerks like he really has been electrocuted.
“Is that okay?” I murmur, my voice husky.
“Yes.” He swallows. “It feels… too good. Fuck, Rae. You feel too good.”
“I don’t think it can
be too much if it’s good,” I reply, dropping my head to kiss him lightly. “You deserve good things, Saint. You deserve all the good there is.”
I don’t think he agrees with me, but at least he doesn’t argue with me. He just kisses me again, deep and hungry and intense, and I stroke his cock a little as my tongue dances with his. Every time I do, his hips jerk upward a little, thrusting into my touch like he can’t help himself.
Finally, I draw back, panting and hot all over. He’s breathing hard too, his broad chest rising and falling.
I clamber off his lap and take his hand, pulling him up to stand too. Then I lead him toward the bedroom.
He follows me with no resistance, and even though we’re just holding hands now, the connection from earlier still hums between us, making my heart beat harder and my clit throb. I didn’t necessarily have this in mind when I offered to let Saint stay with me—I honestly just wanted to give him a safe place where he could be comfortable—but now that he’s here, it almost feels like this was inevitable.
The way I feel for him?
The way he seems to feel for me?
We’ve been barreling toward this moment since all the way back on that mountaintop.
And I’m so damn glad we’ve finally arrived.
As soon as we reach the bedroom, I let go of Saint’s hand and go to my bedside table, grabbing out a condom from the top drawer. I’m not usually the one to make the first move. Hell, for a long time, I wasn’t the one to make any move. But I know with Saint, it’s up to me.
It’s up to me to make it clear how much I want this, how much I want him. He still sees himself as someone who doesn’t deserve love and affection, and I’m going to make sure he knows he’s wrong about that.
Walking back over to Saint, I drop the condom on the bed and then very deliberately unbutton and unzip my pants before pushing them down over my hips. My panties go next, and I kick them off along with my shoes. I’m naked now, and if I thought Saint looked awed before, he looks like he’s seen a damn miracle now.
It’s enough to make me blush, but the heat in my cheeks isn’t from embarrassment. It’s from pure, raw desire.
“Now you,” I murmur, giving him a chance to stop me or change his mind as I move slowly toward him, my hands dropping to the waistband of his pants.
But he doesn’t make a move, and when I tug his pants down and then kneel to pull his shoes off and toss it all aside, he watches me with burning gray eyes. He’s even more breathtaking fully naked, and I stay on my knees, licking my lips as I wrap a hand around his cock again.
When my lips close around the head, he lets out a shuddering groan. His hand falls to the top of my head, his fingers digging into my hair a little as if he’s trying to steady himself. I think I might be addicted to his reactions, to making him feel good. I start to bob my head a little, using my hand along with my mouth as I stroke him and slick his cock with my saliva.
His thigh muscles tense, his hips jerking a little as his cock swells and pulses in my mouth. I think he might be close already, and I pick up my pace a little, determined to bring him as much pleasure as I can.
“Wait,” he rasps. The hand in my hair tightens, stopping my movements.
Then, in a movement so fast it catches me by surprise, he pulls me up to my feet and crushes his lips to mine. He kisses me like he’s trying to devour me whole, and even as I bend sideways, blindly feeling around for the condom, our lips don’t separate. I tear it open and roll it over his cock, and the second it’s secured over his length, he lifts me up, grabbing my ass in an almost bruising grip as I wrap my legs around his waist.
I expect him to set me down on the bed, but instead he turns and strides toward the wall, reaching it in three steps and slamming my back against it. In almost the same movement, his cock finds my entrance and drives into me, and we both make noises that barely sound human.
“Fuck,” Saint groans under his breath, his body practically vibrating against mine as he drops his head to the crook of my neck.
He draws out and drives back in again, and it feels just as intense as the first time—as if we’re trading pieces of our souls with every thrust.
“Saint!” I gasp. “Please. I… fuck… please!”
I have no idea what I’m begging for. More, maybe. Or maybe for him to never stop.
He was right. It feels too good.
It feels perfect.
He keeps fucking me, every thrust as hard as the last, and I swear I can feel the walls shaking, the pictures that Max and Pen hung when they helped me move in rattling in their frames. I cling to him, kissing him whenever I can and tilting my head up when he sucks on my neck or scrapes his teeth over my shoulder.
When I come, it takes me by surprise, an orgasm that goes from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye. I tighten my legs around him, my fingers digging into his back.
“I’m coming!” I cry out. “Fuck, I’m coming—”
He doesn’t answer me with words. He just growls and drives into me one more time before grinding his hips against mine, emptying himself into the condom as his cock swells and pulses inside me.
It’s lucky he’s got me pinned to the wall, because there’s no way I’d still be upright otherwise. I let out a breath that turns into a laugh as my body goes limp in his arms, and Saint draws back to meet my gaze.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Was that too much?”
“Definitely not.” I lean forward to kiss him soundly, sliding my tongue into his mouth to make it clear that I meant exactly what I just said.
He kisses me back, and I feel the tension dissolve from his body as we both indulge in what might be one of my new favorite pastimes. As we kiss, I feel Saint’s cock pulse and thicken inside me, and I realize with a start that he’s getting hard again.
My stomach flutters. Damn. That’s some serious stamina.
But then again, he’s got a lot of years to make up for, I guess.
“More?” I ask, allowing a teasing lilt to color my voice as I nip his bottom lip.
“Can you?” he asks, holding me up with one hand while the other begins to roam my naked body.
“Um, hell yeah I can. If it’s anything like that just was, I definitely can.”
Saint pulls back again, and for the first time in a long time, I see a full smile curve his lips. It’s not a half smile, one haunted by doubt or uncertainty. It’s broad and happy, and it makes an answering joy rise up in my chest.
He pulls me away from the wall, and this time, he does lay me down on the bed. After pulling the condom off and throwing it away, he crawls up and buries his face between my legs.
He makes me come twice like that, lapping at me like I’m his last meal, then he rolls another condom on and fucks me again—a little slower and gentler this time, but no less intense than the first. When I come once more, he finally follows me over the edge, muffling both of our cries in a fierce, claiming kiss. He stays inside me for a long time, and I stroke my hands up and down his back as we rest together. When he finally pulls out, we’re both too exhausted to move.
I fall asleep with Saint wrapped around me protectively as if he’s keeping me safe. It reminds me of the night we slept together—literally slept—on our mission in the mountains. He clearly needed touch, and I didn’t know how else to give it to him, so I turned into a large dog and cuddled him. He petted me, and the feel of his hands in my fur was nearly as comforting to me as it was to him.
Now instead of me curled up around him comforting him, he’s the one who’s wrapped around me. Like he wants to keep me safe even if there isn’t exactly anything to keep me safe from.
His nose is pressed to the back of my neck, his breath warm across my skin, and as we drift off, a lazy thought floats through my head.
This is right where he belongs.
Chapter 16
I do not get to wake up the way I’d hoped. That is, nice and slowly with Saint curled around me, his warmth
and scent surrounding me as he kisses me breathless.
Nope. Instead, I’m jerked out of a sound sleep by my phone ringing.
Shit.
I dive for it, trying not to wake Saint, and hurry out of bed to slip into the bathroom while I answer in a low voice. “Hello?”
“Rae!”
It’s my siblings—both of them, judging by the twin voices.
“Penelope! Max!” I’m sure they can hear the false tone of cheer in my voice as I try to sound normal while simultaneously staying quiet enough that I don’t wake up Saint. Shit, he’s got super senses. Does that mean he’ll wake up easier? “Why are you guys calling? Isn’t it kind of early?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever thought it was too early a day in your life,” Penelope notes. “You’re always up this early. It’s eleven a.m. for us.”
That’s only eight in the morning for me on the West Coast, but they’re right. I’m usually up much earlier than this. I forgot to set my alarm last night. Crap. Maybe it’s a good thing they called, so that I won’t be late to work in an hour.
I can hear the suspicion in Max’s voice as he speaks next. “Everything okay? You alone?”
“Ah. Uh…” Damn it, I’m horrible at lying. “Um. Not alone, no.”
“Already up and working?” Max asks, and I realize that they’re possibly calling for an entirely different reason than the one I thought they were. “We’ve been hearing some concerning stuff on the news. About Unpredictables going insane? That IUM had to kill some of them?”
“What? That’s crazy!” I nearly forget to keep my voice down, and I have to struggle to lower it again. “That’s not what’s going on at all,” I insist in a low murmur. “My mission… we don’t know what’s going on, we think it might be some kind of magical disease, but it’s hurting people and making them lose their minds. Not just Unpredictables, but any kind of magical user. And we only had to kill one person, and that was in self-defense. My teammate was saving my life. The others…” I take a deep breath. “The others killed themselves when we tried to subdue them to get them help.”