Page 75 of Moonlit Temptation

He hadn’t.

His eyes didn’t even soften as we stared at each other. He reminded me of when I found him in the Icarus den. There was no playfulness, no softness. Just pissed off authority in his expression.

I watched his fists clench in agitation at his sides before he turned his attention to a woman who had sauntered up to him with a sultry grin.

He gave her his full attention while I got his back.

With the whole reason I was here giving his attention to another woman, I did nothing but watch.

Watch and stroke those flames that roared to life inside me.

Saint didn’t spare me a single glance as he moved to another woman, and then another. Laughing, smiling, touching.

He always was an asshole, I’d just never been on the receiving end of it.

I wasn’t a fan. Not in the slightest.

My eyes followed him as he continued his flirt train with a glare so fierce I waited for him to catch fire but it didn’t work.

Enough.

Saint wanted to ignore me?

We’d see about that.

Tearing my gaze off him, I did the one thing I knew, aside from taking my clothes off, that would get his attention.

I broke the unspoken rule about going upstairs.

No one was allowed up there. No matter the occasion, Saint kept it off limits. I always wondered why, and now was the perfect opportunity to find out. Two birds, one jagged stone.

Neither of my siblings noticed I slipped away. Both were too busy with their own matters to keep an eye on me.

Jessa found a handsome man to flirt with, a lawyer here in Atlanta, and the moment he mentioned his firm’s name, I saw hearts in my sister’s eyes.

Meanwhile, Archer went out back and, I assumed, showed our dad where he could take the cocktail waitress.

I hadn’t seen him come back in by the time I reached the stairs.

I took them slowly, making sure people saw me. Making sure Saint had a chance to find me as my hand trailed up his banister.

He was treating me the exact way he promised not to. Dirty and less than. Not a person, but a secret.

He’d never ignored me before. Not in all the years I’d been to parties at his house. Not in all the years I knew him.

He always greeted me, hugged me, joked around with me. The fact that he wasn’t now hurt. And frankly, it was quite rude of the host to ignore one of his guests.

Coward. Selfish. Bastard.

I didn’t understand it. A few days ago, he was holding me, kissing me, declaring he wanted to try this back home.

But it didn’t feel like trying.

I knew we had to be kept a secret, but what if the time away from me made Saint realize what we did should be left in London?

And only London.

What happened in the time we were apart?

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