“My, my, Indie. Haven’t you been a busy girl?”
Everything crashes into me at once.
I suck in the thick air, losing my footing as I tumble backwards, my back hitting off the wall.
Saint is leaning against my doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his broad chest.
Dressed in…
Covered in…
Oh my fucking God.
It was him.
He looks nothing like the man I fell in love with, my eyes desperately roaming over him as I take an inventory of his changes.
Cloaked in dark sketches of ink, from the tips of his fingers, all the way to that sharp jaw I used to trace with the pads of my fingertips.
His physique was lean before, but seeing him this close, he’s gainedat leastthirty pounds of muscle.
Those trap muscles strain against his dark shirt, along with the biceps that are threatening to tear through the material.
He looks like a walking weapon.
He looks like the man I almost killed.
His name leaves my lips in a raw whisper.
“Saint?”
It weaves with a library of emotions, the first time I’ve been able to voice it in years.
Never did I think it would finally be when I saw his unearthly beautiful face.
Saint pushes off the door in one fluid movement, stalking towards me. Even from afar, I can see the grey in his eyes hum like a plasma ball, and he moves with the lethal grace of a predator on the hunt.
Something I was once used to, but this version of it is utterly terrifying.
I used to crave the spike in my blood watching it, but this?
He looks downright fucking unnerving.
And fuck, is my bodyroaringto life at the sight.
The tension in the room soars as he inches closer to me. His sinful scent is the second of my senses to be abused, forcing my eyes to flutter closed. My lungs don’t want to work; I couldn’t beg them to take an inhale if I tried. They’re keeping that nostalgia locked tightly inside them.
The sensation makes me lightheaded, risking me to black out as my pulse roars like a jackhammer.
His hand brushes against mine. Electricity sparks across my skin as my eyes snap open, watching him take the gun from me.
“I’m just laying it on the table. Wouldn’t want you getting trigger happy, would we?”
My grip eases to let him take it, his eyes never leaving mine as he leans to the side, placing it on the bed.
When he stretches back to his full height, I’m reminded just how intimidating it is, even more so now.
All my strength is reserved for keeping me upright, and my voice comes out on a shallow breath. “How did you find me?”
