Page 32 of Moonlit Temptation

As slowly and quietly as I could, I turned over to find Saint on his stomach, cradling his pillow.

Was it bad to be envious of the pillow? Because I was. I wanted to be that pillow so bad. Having his arms wrapped that tightly and protectively around me.

I curled my fingers into the sheets to resist touching him, to stop myself from brushing the fallen tendrils of hair off his lined forehead.

He stayed.

I didn’t think he would.

I didn’t think we’d do all that we did, either.

My body I knew, without even looking, was covered with swirling bruises of his fingers, his passion.

With skin as pale as mine, bruises came easily. I hated it, but I didn’t think I’d mind these.

He’d be with me long after he left.

Not that I needed the bruises as a reminder. I could still feel him on me, around me, in me, regardless. I was sore but happy. Elated.

Saint made another noise as he shifted on the bed.

He stayed.

I was surprised Saint slept at all. I knew from all the times he slept over at my house how little of it he actually got.

Four hours, if he was lucky, he once told me. But here he slept like the cold dead. Peaceful oblivion.

In the quiet of the room, I allowed myself to process what we did.

Saint and I had sex.

I had sex with Saint.

We had sex. Together.

Hours ago, on this bed where he now slept naked next to me.

I pinched my hip and bit back a curse at the sharp sting it caused. Nope, not dreaming.

This was real.

As I stared at him, tracing the planes of his face with my eyes, I waited for the guilt to set in, for a lick of remorse to tickle my insides.

This was my brother’s best friend.

A man eight years older than me.

We hadn’t just blurred the lines we’d always stood behind, we obliterated them.

For a few brief hours, nothing existed outside of us. Not the titles we were supposed to be to each other. Not my family. Not our lives. No responsibilities or consequences.

My brother and father always said I existed to stir up trouble.

They were wrong. I existed for this. To be naked on a bed next to a sleeping Saint.

It wasn’t just everything I wanted since the time I knew what sex was, but it was reckless and freeing. It stretched my lungs with the strongest breath.

Saint made me feel more alive than even the strongest adrenaline rush.

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