“Ahh. And now, Pres knows I kept it from him.”
Biting her lower lip, she nodded. “I’m so sorry, Saint. I made sure he knew I basically forced you to go along with my plan.”
“You didn’t need to do that, Beth. I made my choice, and I stand by it. Copper was always going to find out, and my actions were always going to bite my ass. But I don’t regret it.”
She groaned. “Saint…”
“No, babe, stop feeling guilty. You must feel better now that it’s out there.”
She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “I do, for the most part. Still have to talk to my mom about it, but Copper and I had a good chat. It helped.”
“I’m glad. I’m also relieved as fuck he didn’t find out about last night.”
“Ha. Yeah.” Her weak laugh sounded through the quiet room right before his attention went back to his bare chest. He could feel her gaze like a caress, tracing all the tattoos he’d collected over the years. As he sat there under her intense perusal, growing harder by the second, he could only think one thing.
Why the fuck didn’t I put a shirt on while I had the chance?
***
THE MAN WAS sexier than any one man had the right to be, and he wasn’t even trying. He didn’t have to do a damn thing but sit there shirtless for her body to react. Like last night, her nipples tightened to stiff peaks, and the lace of her bra was suddenly unbearable against the sensitive tips. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she had to fight the urge to press her thighs together as her pussy clenched around nothing, remembering the talented way his fingers had filled her. Her palms tingled with curiosity over the way his smooth, warm skin would feel as she ran them all over his body. Even breathing became difficult. She had to fight to keep her inhales and exhales steady instead of panting over the sight of his naked chest.
Beth had obviously been turned on before. She’d slept with a handful of men over the years, some of them great experiences, some mediocre, and in the last year, quite dreadful, but she’d never experienced this soul-rattling level of raw desire. The longing felt more like an unrelenting prickle expanding beneath her skin. The kind that couldn’t be ignored without going mad. Ifhe didn’t touch her to appease that itch, she’d go out of her mind with need.
Which meant she might end up in a padded room because nothing could happen. They could not cross that line again, not after her conversation with Copper this morning. Saint’s involvement with her already jeopardized his standing in the club. They could not make it worse.
And yet, the need persisted. Hell, it grew with every second in his presence.
She blew out a slow breath as she fought to come up with something to break the awkward silence. “I like your ink.”
Great, Beth, point out how you’re staring at his delectable chest.
He glanced down at his torso. “Thanks. Izzy did ninety percent of it.” As he spoke, he rubbed a hand over the muscular plane of his chest where multiple tattoos resided. The temperature in his house spiked at least fifteen degrees.
“And the last ten?”
His expression could only be described as a half smirk, half cringe. “My buddy did them from his garage when we were eighteen and high.”
She snickered as she winced. “Ah, back when you were making really good choices.”
That had him laughing out loud. “You have no idea how good.” He scratched his left pec where an inked bird, she didn’t know what kind, soared. It seemed to be a bird of prey of some sort, but she knew shit about birds beyond the fact that his tattoo mesmerized her. Izzy did outstanding work, and when he moved in the right way, the bird seemed to flap its wings. “Maybe one day I’ll show you the ones my buddy did. They’re not available to just anyone.” He winked.
Fucking winked.
Christ.
She fanned herself as sweat broke out across her hairline. “Is your air conditioning broken or something?” The temperature in the house felt near boiling.
“Nah, fully functional.”
Of course. Maybe he didn’t turn it on. Something was making the house unbearably warm.
Or maybe you’re a horny bitch who can’t walk away from the one man you can’t have.
Okay, she could do this. She could be a mature adult, stand up, and leave Saint’s damn house without giving in to her baser urges.
Every second of the night before had played through her mind countless times since she’d left him, with each memory being better than the last except for one very significant fact.
She hadn’t gotten to touch him.
