Page 40 of Tainted Saints

My entire body sinks back into the plush leather seat of the Bentley. Four days. Four blissful fucking days with no parents hovering me, criticising me, and the threat of correction looming over me.

“Thank you, Bobby,” I whisper, my hands trembling slightly as I clasp them lightly in my lap.

The journey feels less oppressive than it usually does, and although I’m not looking forward to my PT appointment—it’s hard to build muscle mass when you are regularly denied food—nothing can dampen my happy mood as we roll into the drive.

Bobby comes to open my door, and I step out into the weak sunshine, taking a deep lungful of the crisp air.

“Your trainer will be waiting in the gym, Miss,” he tells me, a glint in his eye that I can’t quite interpret.

“Okay, thanks,” I hesitantly say, pursing my lips as I try to read him. He just gives me a wink that almost floors me before going back around to the driver’s side and taking the car to the garage.

Shaking my head, I approach the door, Gerrard opening it before I even reach it and letting me in.

“I’m just going to get changed, can you let my trainer know that I’ll be a couple of minutes please, Gerrard?” I ask, and he inclines his head, shutting the door and heading in the direction of the home gym.

Hurrying upstairs, I quickly change into workout gear, tie up my hair in a messy bun, then make my way downstairs and to the side of the house with our gym, indoor pool, and sauna.

Pausing in front of the door, I take a steadying breath. I’ve never been great with new people or new situations, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird, but after counting to ten, I place my hand on the door and push it open.

My steps falter when I catch sight of my trainer, all six-foot-something, tattoos covering every inch of skin on display as he wears a skintight vest and shorts. He has a nose ring and a scar bisecting his left brow and upper cheek that I traced with my finger only hours before.

“Blaine?”

ChapterNineteen

“Talk to my Skin” by Stalgia

ASPEN

“Hello,mi tesoro,”he greets in that low, rumble of his as he saunters towards me. Gods, the man is fucking huge, muscles on muscles and all of them visible in that outfit he’s wearing. Those vests with large armholes should be made illegal in my humble opinion.How the fuck am I meant to function when he looks like that?

“What are you doing here?” I squeak out, darting my gaze around the room as if the Ambassador is about to spring up and catch us.

“I’m your new trainer,” he tells me, stopping just in front of me so I have to crane my neck back to keep eye contact.

“How?” I question, my body begging to close the distance between us, but I hold back. I don’t know if there are cameras in here, plus one of the staff could walk in at any moment.

His hand comes up, his fingers toying with some strands of my hair that have escaped the bun. I swear each tug and pull is directly linked to my pussy, making it pulse as lust hazes my thoughts.

“My cousin owns a personal training company that caters to the bored housewives of the west side of Fairview and I work for him,” he tells me, still playing with my hair as his chocolate-brown eyes drink me in. “And when I’d heard he’d secured this gig, I persuaded him to let me be your trainer.”

“Oh,” I reply, trying and fucking failing not to sound all breathy. “Wait, what do you mean cater to the bored housewives?” My eyes narrow as a blush creeps up his cheeks and my chest tightens at the thought that he may have fucked some of his previous female clients which leaves me feeling like I can’t draw a deep enough breath. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

Stepping away, I spin and wrap my arms around my body, trying to blink back the sudden tears that fill my eyes. He’s not mine, and I’ve had partners before the Saints, so it shouldn’t bother me.

“Mi princesa linda,” he says in a pleading tone right before his strong arms wrap around me which only makes me stiffen more.

“Let me go! There might be cameras,” I all but yell, trying to wriggle out of his grip as my limbs tremble, but his arms just tighten around me, pulling me closer.

“No one is watching us,” he whispers in a low hum. “There are no cameras here. We’re safe.” His words filter through my panic and my body slumps, hot tears tracking down my cheeks no matter how much I try to swallow them back. “The thought of you with someone else hurts me too.” His confession is a whisper and a small sob falls from my lips.

“But it’s not fair of me to feel mad at shit that’s happened in the past. You didn’t even know me, and I didn’t know you,” I reply in a choked voice, my arms wrapping over the tops of his as I pull him closer.

“We can’t help what we feel,mi tesoro,” he tells me, placing his lips against my neck. I arch, giving him better access which he takes as he kisses and nibbles the flesh. “But I can assure you that anyone before you is nothing to me. They don’t exist.”

His large hands glide over my body, my tight gym wear providing no resistance to his touch.

“Blaine,” I moan as he palms one of my breasts through my sports bra and squeezes, shivers cascading over my body from his touch.

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