I pride myself on my ability to keep my emotions on lockdown, but this day is seriously fucking with my head. Between Dad, Darrow, and now stumbling across The Sainthood, this day couldn’t get much worse.
Theo Smith is the fourth member of the gang and he’s also drop-dead gorgeous, but in a different way. His long sandy-blond hair falls to the nape of his neck, tucked behind his ears in a messy, bedhead style that is extremely sexy. He scrubs a hand along his stubbly jawline, holding my gaze, the unspoken plea obvious. For a tech wizard and financial mastermind who is known to be sharp as a tack and cool under pressure, he sure looks rattled now.
He should be.
Because he’s a liar and a coward.
And he knows I know.
“Harlow Westbrook!” Darrow is close to breaking point if he’s using my full name now. “Open this fucking door, and stop being such a sensitive bitch.”
I relax my jaw, loosening my features and planting an amused expression on my face, as I refocus on Saint. He stands, eyeing me with a calculating look that manages to be darkly sinister and drenched in lust at the same time. Shivers course all over my body, and I’m so aroused my panties are soaking.
I’m close to six foot tall in these heels, and Saint still towers over me. I visualize his large frame covering mine in my mind’s eye, elevating my desire a notch higher. Heat from his body crashes into me, both soothing my ragged edges and tending the flames building to an inferno inside me. I place my half-empty vodka bottle on the table, planting my hands on my hips again. “Well?”
I put it out there. I’m doing this. Now, the ball is in his court.
The attraction is mutual. He’s doing nothing to hide he wants me as much as I clearly want him.
Saint takes a step closer, and his chest brushes against my body, sending a fresh wave of desire cascading through my limbs. “If we do this—”
“I know. This isn’t my first rodeo.” I know nothing in this life is free. You ask for a favor. You pay the pied piper. Sex is the usual currency. It’s the way of the world we inhabit.
A muscle pops in his jaw as he grips my chin tight, tugging my head up. “Don’t fucking interrupt me.”
“Or what? Let me guess. You’ll punish me?” He can’t know that rough sex is my favorite, and punishment is rarely a punishment. Not after the things I endured at thirteen. It will take a lot to break me this time.
He stares deep into my eyes, bringing his face in so close we are sharing the same air. “You’d like that.”
I don’t like that he can read me so easily. Not when I’ve spent years erecting walls to keep men like him out. But forewarned is forearmed. And it’s no surprise Saint Lennox is a master at breaking down walls and uncovering truths. He isn’t the brains behind the operation for no reason. My eyes respond affirmatively, and my body hums in anticipation.
“It won’t just be me,” he adds, carefully watching my face for my reaction. “We’re a package deal.”
I’ve heard rumors to that effect, and it only adds to the appeal.
Butterflies invade my chest, and my body throbs with raw need. I wet my dry lips, gulping as a surge of adrenaline sluices through my veins. I know what’s on the table. What they will do and the price I must pay. If he thinks this is a dealbreaker, he’s so wrong. This is exactly what I need to get through the rest of this hellish day.
“Do it,” I say, my voice resonating with confidence, my face showcasing my eagerness.
Saint’s eyes darken to the point where they’re almost smoldering.
He wants this.
It’s a done deal.
“Saint. We should talk about this.” Displeasure underscores Galen’s tone, and if he fucks this up for me, I’ll fuckhimup.
“The decision is made.” Saint turns his head, daring his cousin to argue.
Galen rubs the back of his neck, nodding tersely.
What Saint says is law.
Everyone knows it.
“Lo! I’m not playing games. Open the door, or I’m fucking breaking it open,” Darrow roars, his patience reserves all gone as he shoves his body weight at the door, rattling it.
Saint drops my chin, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the door. He eyeballs me with his hand curled around the handle. “Last chance to back out.”
