It takes Regina a lot of effort on a normal day to open up, whereas she gets nothing past me, and she’s forced to spill what’s bothering her. She usually hits the Uno reverse on me, so it’s only fair I return the favour. “One thing that might take her mind off it, is taking advantage of it snowing outside.” My head tilts to the window. It’s not heavy, but that doesn’t matter to her.
He nods. “Thanks, Indie.” He pats my shoulder, walking downwards towards her room.
I make my way towards Saint’s. He’s been checked out and under strict orders he needs to rest, and has he listened?
No.
That man doesn’t do well taking orders from other people. Except me.
I push open the door, and my eyes roll, contradicting my thoughts. The bed is empty, sheets lying crumpled up, but when I feel the heat of devious eyes on me, my gaze slowly makes its way towards the source.
My heart is smiling in my chest, and it’s fighting its way up towards my lips. But I’m standing strong on this. I’ll drag it out for a couple more days of course, because honestly? It’s tiring. He needs to know how mad I am at him for what he did.
That is until my traitorous libido decides she has other plans, and my gaze wanders on its own.
He’s just out of the shower, fresh bandages on his torso, hair sticking up and standing in nothing but his boxers as he brushes his teeth. The way his abs and biceps flex with each movement has my mouth watering.
That’s the thing about the devil: you know he’s bad for you. You hear the whispered stories of all types of evil he brings to the world. What they don’t tell you is the feeling you get screaming out his name, and you’ll willingly let that man corrupt you, as long as he promises to deal you the high forever.
“Enjoying yourself?” he says, my eyes snapping upwards to meet him.
A smirk teases his lips, giving his back to me as he heads further into the bathroom. I dare myself to walk to the threshold, and suddenly it’s too damn hot, and it’s got nothing to do with the steam slinking through the door.
I catch his gaze in the mirror as he spits into the sink. The sight has my cheeks flaring when he keeps his gaze locked on mine.
Jesus Christ, Indie. Get a damn grip. You’re not twenty-one anymore; you can handle this animal.
My mind is waging an internal battle, one half screaming I’m a pushover, that it knew I wouldn’t stay mad at him for long.The other half’s calling me an idiot, asking why the hell I’m not climbing this man like a tree.
One roll of his devilish gaze down my body has rationality becoming extinct.
I went six years without him. Eight days have left me feral.
I don’t even realise Saint’s stalked towards me, until the faint glow from the bathroom has gone, and his forbidden frame creates an eclipse.
The tips of my fingers burn, an invisible force tugging them towards his chest, but I fist them by my side instead. He wets his bottom lip, and his rough, midnight voice raises my blood pressure. “You still mad at me, darling?”
I’ve kept this stance for almost a whole seventy-two hours, mostly because he’s been on painkillers, but this is the first time he’s been lucid enough to work me up.
I work down a swallow, the lust coating my throat, making my tone unintentionally match his. “Extremely.”
His laugh rumbles off my chest when he steps into me. The smell of his aftershave almost knocks me sideways. “Good.”
Before I can even voice a protest, his large hand cups my jaw, pulling me forward to meet his lips. His kiss is drugging, the euphoria rippling through my body at lightning speed, obliterating every last excuse I had left standing.
I open up for him, and if I said unwillingly, I’d have to brand myself an outright liar.
I let his tongue slowly stroke against mine. Each kiss is sensual, passionate, infused with a hint of possessiveness.
One hand grips around the curve of my ass, pulling me flush as the other ghosts under my hoodie and along my spine. His hard cock presses against me, causing my unrestrained moan to sound itself. I feel his smile against my lips as he whispers, “Lie on the bed.”
Protest, Indie.
I don’t.
Again.
My shaky limbs guide me over to the bed, and when I go to turn, his hands stop me, pulling my hair to the side to expose my neck. He rests one on my hip as he kisses and licks that sensitive spot between my shoulder, my head rolling against his chest.
