I silently scoffed, figuring my imagination was heightened by my drunk state. Still, I gawked at him, mesmerized by how beautiful he was under the shadow and light cast from the streetlamp above him. I bet all those girls back at the party wished they were me right now, being escorted by Prince Winthrop himself. At my abrupt chuckle, he’s brow shot up and cheeky, I pursed my lips and air kissed him. How was the man still so stunning even with that deadpan face?
Done, he zipped up the front of the jacket and took a step back. I wrinkled my nose hoping to make him laugh. Nothing. When I blew out a raspberry, he picked up his helmet and pushed the hair off my face, the touch surprisingly tender. I felt the goosebumps sprint along my skin. He squeezed the awful thing down over my head and the dreamlike moment passed. I squealed my discomfort, and he shook his head fastening the strap under my chin then turned away.
“Where’s your helmet,” I slurred.
“I only have one,” he said without looking at me. “And I want you safe.” I knew he was just being cautious, but I couldn’t help the thrill racing through me. “Get on,” he ordered. I moved to take the back seat and he stopped me. “No.” Confused, I looked at him. Holding my arm, he mounted the bike. “Here.” He gestured for me to get on in front of him. With a casual shrug, I lifted my leg. “No. The other way.”
I paused mid-lift. “Huh?”
“Put your arse on the seat and face me.”
“Oh.” Just the thought of that position started a ball of excitement low in my stomach.
I did as he asked. Straddling the bike brought me into the arc of his arms as he held the handles on either side of me. Uncertain where to put my feet, I fumbled a bit. He tsked then reached down, lifted my legs and curled them around his waist. The move caused my short skirt to ride up, exposing my thighs. I caught Saint’s gaze dropping for just a moment before he clenched his jaw and looked away. I couldn’t stop the dopey grin. Locking my ankles at his rear tightened the gap between us, and I felt the stiff muscles of his thighs beneath mine. My pussy spasmed and I wriggled unnecessarily.
“Sit still,” he barked. I wasn’t sure if his irritation stemmed from me squirming or he was as affected by our proximity. So close, that if it weren’t for the helmet, our noses would be touching. I felt his right leg jerk and a second later the bike thundered to life, the vibration adding to my already fluctuating pulse his arrival started. “Slip your arms around my waist.”
I did so and a brawny warm back met my linked fingers. The sudden urge to run my hands up and down over his ripped muscles had me biting my lip to stay still. He positioned my head to fit the crook of his neck making me consciously aware of how provocative this position would look to a stranger. I didn’t care.
“Hang on,” he warned a second before we shot off down the road, kicking up gravel behind us.
On reflex the abrupt jerk of the machine forced a squeal of surprise. Laughing, I leaned my head back to look at Saint. He ignored me and I took the moment to admire his square jaw peppered by an afternoon stubble I wanted to feel graze my thighs like he’d done before. Long lashes above eyes that stared straight ahead, full lips parted slightly I wanted to slide my tongue into. The wind created by the speed of the bike, ruffled his dark hair, making him look carefree. I had the insane urge to run my fingers through the shiny thickness.
He swerved left and the sudden angle caught me by surprise. I shrieked, gripping the back of his shirt in clenched fists. Saint slowed down and looked at me, his brow creased in a frown. “Are you all right?” Darkness might hide the emotion from his eyes but there was no mistaking the worry in his voice.
Nodding, I leaned my head on his shoulder wishing I was the one without the helmet. He sped up again and I must’ve dozed off because when I opened my eyes again, he was riding into a basement parking I didn’t recognize. The roar of the engine softened before it died completely leaving us in a comfortable silence. Saint’s unreadable gaze met mine for a moment before he unlocked my legs, gripped my waist and lifted me off the bike with such ease, I had to admire the strength of his arms.
After checking the bike, he climbed off, removed my helmet and gestured for me to follow him. As much as I wanted to ask where he’d brought me, that aloof demeanour warned me to shut my mouth and keep walking. Anyway, I seemed to be a lot more drunk now to care if he spoke to me. Inside the elevator, we stood side by side like strangers. Yet his warm presence was anything but strange. A woman was likely to feel every inch of him even in her dreams.
Inhaling on a sharp breath, I forced myself to stay upright and failed. When I swayed, Saint slid an arm around my waist and brought me into his body. Brazen, I let my head fall to his chest until my legs gave out and I sagged against him. With a soft sigh, he lifted me into his arms and cradled me like a baby. I was too tired to do anything but rest my head on his shoulders and close my eyes.
What felt like a moment later, I was set back on my feet. This time, we stood in a white and chrome kitchen and I guessed we were in his apartment. Taking me home would probably earn my father’s disappointment. Even though I was grateful for Saint’s thoughtfulness, I didn’t say anything.
“Sit.” He gestured to the cushioned stool at the breakfast island.
Desperate to take my weight off my wobbly feet, I complied as he walked away. The light buzzing in my head that began when Saint walked into the party became a full-blown headache. Palming my head in both hands, I dropped my brow to the marble countertop with a loud moan. “Can I lie down, please.” I could hear him moving around the kitchen, but he didn’t answer. “Asshole,” I muttered into the counter, hoping he’d hear. Still, I got the silent treatment.
“Levana,” he said after a few minutes. I looked up to find him standing on the other side of the island. “Here.” He slid a coffee mug along the top until it sat inside my cupped hands.
I stared at the black liquid, nausea swirling somewhere between my burning stomach and throat. Sighing, I lifted the mug to my lips, took a sip or two and cringed at the bitter taste hitting my tongue. Since living in England, I’d become accustomed to drinking tea and even though I’d tried coffee once or twice before, I didn’t get everyone’s addiction with the drink. I didn’t like it. In the process of placing the mug down, my gaze connected with Saint’s.
With his hands folded over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other, he leaned against the kitchen sink. “Drink,” he ordered.
“I can’t,” I complained knowing it was a clear waste of time. He’d probably force feed me the freaking drink if I disobeyed him. “It’s horrid.”
“If you can drink enough alcohol to relieve you off your rationality, coffee shouldn’t be too hard to stomach,” he mocked, his expression easily indicating I wasn’t far off on my deductions of what he was likely to do.
“Tyrant,” I muttered under my breath then holding my nose, I downed the hot liquid trying hard not to gag. Done, I set the mug on the counter, glowered at him and stuck out my tongue. “Happy?” I asked as if I was a contestant onFear Factorand just ate something gross.
All I got was a raised brow. “Come. You’ll be more comfortable there.” He beckoned for me to follow him to the lounge.
But I didn’t want to. I felt woozy. My head swam, my legs felt like jelly and my stomach heaved. “Can I lie down, please.”
He paused midstride to look at me, his face ranging in expressions. I was done trying to read him and clutched my throat hoping to curb the sudden nausea. Rising, I dry heaved.
Saint neared me in one quick stride, grasped my arm and directed me toward a hallway. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
I barely made it there before I dropped to my knees, stuck my head in the toilet and hurled the contents of my stomach. The sour smell of puke and alcohol hitting the water, burned my nose as the unladylike tunes of me vomiting filled the bathroom. I felt Saint’s warm fingers gather my hair at my nape to hold it back from my face. And while a part of me cringed in embarrassment, I was too far gone to care about the picture I presented. My eyes watered, my throat ached, and my stomach groaned in agony as I retched over and over until nothing but spit fell from my lips.
