His hands slid up my sides, under my sweater, and I arched into his touch without thinking, because my body already knew what it wanted.
Saint groaned softly and broke the kiss just long enough to drag his mouth down my neck, teeth grazing lightly, and I gasped as my hands fisted in his shirt.
“Saint,” I whispered again, but it didn’t sound like his name anymore.It sounded like a plea.
His mouth moved lower, slower, like he wanted to take his time.Like he wanted to undo every ounce of stress I’d been carrying with his hands and his mouth and his steady patience.
He tugged my sweater up, and I lifted my arms so he could pull it off.The cool air kissed my skin for a second before Saint’s hands were back, warm and firm, making me forget about everything except him.
He looked at me like he couldn’t decide whether to touch or just stare.
Then he did both.
Slow, deliberate, like he wasn’t rushing the moment because he wasn’t afraid it would disappear.
My fingers worked at his buttons, clumsy with need, and he helped to pull his shirt off, then leaned back down to kiss me like he couldn’t wait another second.
The bed creaked softly as he climbed over me, bracing his weight on his forearms so I could breathe.
I wrapped my legs around him again, dragged him closer, and Saint made a low sound that went straight between my thighs.
“Belle,” he murmured, like he was warning himself.
I reached up and cupped his jaw.“I want you,” I said, and it came out more honest than anything I’d said all week.
Saint went still for half a heartbeat.
Then his mouth crashed back onto mine, and his hands gripped my hips like he needed leverage to keep control.
Clothes disappeared in pieces after that—pulled off, shoved aside, and forgotten.
Saint moved with a kind of slow purpose that made me feel like I mattered.Like this wasn’t just want—though it was definitely that too—but something deeper.Something that had been building since the first day he’d stepped into Cookie Haven and looked at me like he already knew I would be his.
He kissed me until I forgot my own name.
When he finally pressed close, fitting himself to me like he’d been made for it, I arched up with a shaky breath, and Saint swore under his breath like he was trying not to lose his mind.
“You okay?”he whispered against my mouth.
“Yes,” I breathed.“Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
Saint took his time, slow, steady, relentless in the best way, like he wasn’t chasing the finish line.Like he wanted the whole experience.Every sound.Every shiver.Every little loss of control.
My nails dug into his shoulders.His mouth stayed on me, kissing, murmuring my name, swallowing every desperate sound I made like he wanted them.
Heat coiled tight and fast, and when it finally snapped, I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me upright.My body trembled beneath him, and Saint stayed with me through it.
Only when I started to come down did he finally let himself go.A low, broken sound against my throat that made my stomach flip all over again.
After, he didn’t roll away.He didn’t leave me empty.
He stayed.
His arm wrapped around me, pulled me close, and held me like I was something he didn’t want to let go of.My heart still raced, but the panic that lived under my ribs was quiet for the first time in weeks.
Salt padded into the room first, nails soft on the floor, and hopped up at the foot of the bed like he was clocking the situation.Pepper followed and immediately tried to climb onto my pillow until I scooted over to make room for him.
