My lips curl into a slow smile as I grab Cairo’s pulsating forearm. “Yes, you’re suppose to believe me.”
Saint chuckles under his breath, the sound low but knowing. The look Arina shoots me says—she doesn’t believe a word of it—but thankfully I know she’ll save the rest of her interrogation for later.
Placing my palms on his chest, I tilt my head up until my eyes met his. “Don’t do that,” I say softly, my tone sweet but edged with warning. “Don’t make a scene, Cairo.”
His jaw twitches, heat flickering in his stare, but I don’t back stop. I dip closer, my words barely more than a breath. “You know you’re the one I’m ending my night with.”
That line did exactly what I wanted—melting some of the storm in his expression, the corner of his mouth twitching even as he tries to hold it back. His eyes darken, heat and irritation warring just beneath the surface. I let my hand trailhigher, fingertips brushing along his collarbone before resting lightly against his neck. “We’ll have our time together soon,” I murmur. “Just us—and you know I’m looking forward to it.”
The hard line of his shoulders ease. His lips twitch like he wants to stay mad but can’t hold onto the anger. His breath leaves him slow, his hand sliding onto my hip, grip firm. “You better not be playing with me,” he mutters, voice low enough to make my knees go weak.
I lean in closer, my breath brushing his jaw as I smirk. “I wouldn’t dare.”
The corner of his mouth curves, the anger dissolving into something darker—something that promises he’ll be holding me to that.
Behind us, Saint’s laugh cuts through the air. He doesn’t say a word, but the look he gives me, says plenty. Arina’s eyes stay locked on me too, her expression promising she has questions the second we’re alone.
This night is far from over.
Chapter Forty One
Borrowed Peace
T
he crowd starts too thin, the ranch lights dimming into a warm glow that bleeds across the open field. The party softens—but the tension doesn’t go anywhere.
I can feel Cairo’s eyes on me, heavy and unrelenting. Every time I brush past him, his hand finds me—my hip, the curve of my waist, the small of my back. Quietly claiming what he can’t wait to have.
The music dips into something slower, smoother, and Arina drifts off with King toward the porch, their silhouettes melting into the shadows.
I turn to Cairo, close enough to breathe in the liquor and smoke clinging to him. My lips graze hisear, and in a low whisper, I say, “Come spend the night with me.”
His whole body comes alive, sage eyes darkening fast before that wicked grin breaks across his face.
Saint.
I swear he does this shit on purpose, tracking every move I make. I feel him before I see him—his presence always hitting me first. Leaning on the porch, the amber light catching the hard edge of his jaw. Just watching. Reading me like he owns the translation.
Our eyes finally lock, the energy between us turning electric—and not the good kind. The kind you stay away from because you know it’ll burn you if you get too close.
His jaw clenches, lips pressed into a line that’s not quite anger but nowhere near forgiveness. His cheek tightens, a humorless breath slipping out of him as he turns away, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he just seen.
He may have looked away, but the tension in the way he moves gives him away instantly. And from the look on his face, I know he’s not about to let me walk away without saying what’s on his mind.
I barely take two steps away Cairo before I hear the crunching of gravel approaching me. Each one landing heavy enough to make the air shift. When I look up, Saint's already towering in front of me, his drink fuller then the one I saw a second ago. His caramel eyes meet mine, sharp and weary all at once, a storm brewing behind them.
“What’d you say to him?” he mutters, voice rough, whiskey lacing every breath he exhales. “To have him smiling like that out of nowhere?”
I blink, caught off guard—but he doesn’t stop. His jaw flexing, chest rising as he swallows hard, eyes flicking down for a moment before meeting mine again.
“Because I thought…” His voice stumbles, rough with something he’s trying to swallow. “I thought I’d be the one you wanted to go home with tonight.”
His words knock something loose in my chest. With us, it’s always been push and pull—but this feels real. He’s never shown me anything past the surface before tonight. A part of me thought it was just him running game. I know he said I was different when we were under the tree, but guys always magically say the right thing before their about to get in your pants.
But maybe I was wrong about him.
Maybe I actually am more than just a fuck to him.
