He looks away, jaw still tight, like he wishes he could take it back. I reach out before he can move, my fingers resting over his flushed cheek. “Saint …” I say softly, his name catching somewhere between apology and temptation.
His reluctant eyes turn back to mine.
“Saint,” I repeat, pulling his gaze back to mine. “Don’t do that. Don’t think for a second I don’t want you.”
His eyes search mine, the muscle in his jaw twitching, like he doesn’t quite believe me but a part of him needs to. “Tonight, doesn’t change that,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. “You matter more to me than you realize.”
The sadness in his eyes stays, but it dulls—tempered by something in my voice. For a second, I swear he’s going to kiss me. His gaze dips to my lips, and I feel the pull deep in my chest… but he only nods, giving me a small, broken smile that hurts worse than if he’d walked away pissed.
“Be careful with him,” he murmurs. Then he turns, the crunch of his boots fading as he disappears to the car.
Behind me Arina has her arms looped around King’s neck, whispering something that makes him smile.
Cairo steps up beside me, his hand sliding into mine. “You ready to get out of here baby girl?”
I look toward the car Saint walked off to, his broken smile lingering in my mind longer than it should. I squeeze Cairo’s hand, and force a smirk. “Yeah,” I reply cooly. “Let’s go.”
? ? ?
The hum of the engine fills the silence, heavy enough to make every breath feel too loud. Saint’s at the wheel, his jaw tight, eyes locked on the road like it’s the only thing keeping him together. He hasn’t even look at me once.
Cairo sits beside me in the backseat, his hand glued to my thigh. His thumb moves in slow, lazy strokes, making my skin prickle. Across from us, Arina’s tucked into her corner, her phone lighting up as she texts King in the passenger seat—probably something filthy, judging by the way he’s trying to hide his phone.
I’m sure Saint told King to sit in the front. He’s pissed, and he’s not exactly hiding it. A part of me feels guilty… but come on. He can’t get mad at Cairo for being greedy when he already had me and still thought he’d be the one coming home with me. How’s that fair?
Sharing is caring—and if anyone should know anything about that, it’s them.
It’s been a long night. Between that bull flipping my ass and Saint wearing me out under that damn tree, I’m running on fumes. All I want now is to crawl into bed and melt into Cairo’s arms.
But first—I need to wash Saint’s scent off of me. I may have slut tendencies, but I’m not trifling.
There’s a difference.
When we finally pull up to the house, Arina’s the first one through the door. She kicks off her boots with a sigh, tossing me a sly grin over her shoulder. “My uncle’s out this weekend, so y’all have fun,” she teases, already heading for her room. “ I gotta be up early for work anyway.”
I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, right,” I mutter under my breath. We both know damn well she’s not sleeping—she’s gonna be up all night talking dirty to King. She ain’t fooling nobody but Cairo.
I laugh again as she slips down the hall, her door clicking shut, and suddenly it’s just me and Cairo…and a whole lot of quiet. His arms slide around my waist instantly, pulling me close as we make our way fully into the house.
I start showing him around—the living room, the kitchen, little things—but he’s not paying attention. His focus stays locked on me the whole time. Every few steps, his hand grip tighter at my ass, until the tour feels pointless. It’s clear he’s not here to admire out mediocre décor.
Our place isn’t huge—a Motel 6 compared to Saint’s cousin’s house—but it’s ours. And at our age, that means everything. An entire house we can call our own, filled with laughter, secrets, and late-night talks that always go too deep. It isn’t perfect, but it’s home. And right now, with Cairo’s hands sliding over me, it feels like the only place I want to be.
? ? ?
By the time we reach my room, that grin of his has grown feral. He pauses in my doorway, taking in all the little pieces of me scattered everywhere. “Hmmm, looks exactly how I pictured it,” he says, voice dipping deeper.
I raise a brow. “You pictured my room?”
“Hell yeah. Been picturing you in it too.” His smile hungry and unapologetic.
I shake out my hair, letting everything from being in the grass fall out my hair as I toe off my boots. “You’ll have to wait on that fantasy. I’m taking a shower first.”
His grin sharpens. “Then I’ll be right here… tryin’ real hard not to follow you in.”
I shoot him a playful side-eye as I start toward the bathroom. “You wish, cowboy.”
He chuckles—low, rough. “I do,” he says simply, his voice sliding over me like honey. “And I don’t mind proving it.”
