He shrugged. “Depends how much I want it to.”
“That makes no sense.”
Saint finished the joint and crouched to stub it out on Cracker’s seat. “So?”
One day I’d have a conversation with him that didn’t give me a headache.
One day, I’d put my hands on him and it wouldn’t come with a steamroller of complication and emotion.
You already did. You kissed him. Touched him. Marked him. Christ sake, the hickey was still there. I could see it peeking out from the collar of his club tee. It was fading, but the sight of it made my mouth water and my blood run hot enough to blur my vision.
I surged out of my seat and wrapped my hands around his cut, tugging him to his feet because he let me. I propelled him into the tiny kitchen and backed him into the rustic wooden counter he’d built for me. “I want to know you better.”
Saint stared at me. Before that night with Alexei, that would’ve been it, but something had irrevocably changed between us. Something inhimhad shifted. I felt it.
His hands moved slowly to grip my hips, his long fingers sliding beneath my cut and the T-shirt I wore. He found my bare skin and hauled me closer. “You know me.”
“It’s not enough.”
“For what?”
“For how this feels.” I leaned in and took his mouth, rough and hard, the wayIwanted it. Then I eased off, giving him what I knew he liked better, a gentle caress that made him shiver and jut his hips forward.
He was already hard. And kissing him was a lightning bolt to my dick. I thrust against him, slipping my tongue into his pliant mouth, tasting weed and mint and Saint.
Fuck, he did something to me. I could not fucking fathom how he’d been in my life so long and I hadn’t claimed this from him the whole time.Because he’s not yours to claim, you goddamn Neanderthal.But, fuck, I didn’t care. I just wanted him in any and every capacity he’d give himself up.
He won’t, though, will he?
My kiss-drunk brain took that literally. I cupped his face in my shaking hands and ground us together, all the while knowing he’d never spin around and let me fuck him. That he’d never let me—or anyone else—have that power over him. Saint wasn’t like Alexei. He didn’t know how to own that shit—how to dominate with a leer and curl of his sinful hips. He wasn’t there, not yet. And perhaps he never would be.
He’s not made that way. Let him be.
I eased back, taking the pressure off, letting my brain trip back to the heady night we’d spent with Alexei. I hadn’t thought so hard about logistics then. For two men who could be awkward as hell, their interaction had flowed with an ease that still made no sense. They hadn’t looked at each other like strangers should.
Because they’re strange men, the pair of them.
True that. But still, nothing in my life had ever been that simple, so I found it as hard to believe as I did the version of Alexei I’d seen with Saint. The softer, kinder man, as if he’d seen in Saint what I did and knew how much he needed that.
As if he’d taken the time in a moment I hadn’t witnessed to truly look.
That makes no fucking sense either.
I kissed Saint one more time, then pulled back entirely, laying a palm on his chest, soaking up the frantic thump of his heart and wanting to soothe every rough edge of him. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you, I promise.”
Distress flared in Saint’s gaze.He doesn’t believe me. But approaching footsteps smothered the reassurance bubbling up my throat.
Rubi was home.
Being torn between my brothers had never hurt so much, but I had to leave Saint and go to Rubi. I’d let him down by not taking his injury seriously enough and he’d suffered because of it. I needed to let him know it wouldn’t happen again.
I left Saint in the kitchen in time to catch Rubi and Mateo as they entered the chapel.
Embry wasn’t far behind, and then Nash.
It was telling that Cracker didn’t show his face, and the mere thought of him was enough to make my jeans loose again.
“Hey, boss.” Rubi and I collided at the table.
