He jerks it away, and I frown. "Not yet."
"Why not?" I feel myself pouting.
"Because I like watching you want something you can't have."
Asshole.
But he's smiling, and there's something playful in it. Something that feels like we're playing a game together for once.
The waitress brings another round without needing to be asked. This one, I sip slower. I haven't eaten today, and I need my mind steady around Saint.
"Tell me about this place," I say. "Who owns it?"
"Friend of mine. Neutral territory. None of the families claim it."
"So, we're safe here?"
"Safe is relative. But no one's going to start shit unless they want to end up in the river."
How romantic.
"How did things go with Adrian?" I ask.
Saint's brow raises. "You want to discuss your brother?"
"Yes."
He leans back into the chair. His long fingers stroke his chin, and I shiver as I think about them stroking me. "He's upset."
"And?" I'm eager to know why Adrian called Saint the moment he realized what happened. Sure, they are allies, but Adrian likes to keep things in-house.
"He's freaked out. He doesn't think this was the Russians?—"
My mouth goes dry.
"He doesn't think it's us, so don't worry," he says, taking a drink. "He thinks someone else is after him. Things with Sera have left him on edge."
I nod, feeling my heart rate slow. "We should talk about what we want to do next."
Saint shakes his head. "Not now."
"Saint…" I groan. I want to do this. We've made one move, the next will be crucial, which he should know, but he seems uninterested.
"Leave it."
The waitress brings me a third drink, and I roll my eyes but hold my tongue. Saint watches me, and his green eyes make me shift in my seat. The alcohol has made me warm and loose and ready to move. I'm antsy sitting up here in silence with Saint. I need to do something.
I reach for his glass, taking it from him, and pressing my body against his.
"Now can we dance?"
Saint presses a hand to my inner thigh. "Let's go."
The dance floor is packed. Bodies everywhere, moving to the pounding beat.
Saint pulls me into the middle of it, hands on my hips. I expect him to be stiff, uncomfortable. But he moves well, confident and fluid.
We find the rhythm together. His body against mine, hands roaming. Not subtle. Not respectful.
