Page 15 of Saint

“Why the fuck is your name on The Agency list?” Saint asked.

“I have no idea. I’m not a part of it. You guys all know that,” Brax replied.

What exactly do we know, though?Saint wondered while his teammates began questioning Brax.

After some back and forth, Brax snapped, “I’m not a goddamn mole!”

Although he had more questions now than before, Saint believed the man. Seemed like the rest of the team did, too, and they all pledged their support.

Braxton’s voice echoed over the line. “Saint?”

“Yeah?”

“Hang onto Mia Carlisle,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing. “She might prove useful after all.”

And there it was.

“Roger that, Pharaoh.”

The moment he hung up, Mia marched into the living room. “We need to talk,” she declared.

Saint pocketed his phone and sighed. Cutting off Mia’s dress had left him aroused and curious. Curious about the black bra and hint of matching panties he’d caught a glimpse of before forcing himself to walk out before he did something stupid.

Something like reach inside the gap of her dress and start exploring all those sensuous curves.

Looking at the gorgeous blonde now, he wished he would’ve saved that last cigarette. But when she’d moaned in her sleep a couple of hours ago and her dress shifted up to expose a silky thigh, he’d inhaled that last one so damn fast, he may as well have eaten it.

She stopped in front of him and those intelligent, sky-blue eyes flitted down to his chest. Having her attention on his naked skin lit a fire in his gut. One he didn’t want to extinguish.

“Don’t you agree?” she pressed.

“No.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Is that your first answer to everything? No?”

When she said “no,” she dropped her voice and made it sound like a half-grunt, mimicking him. Saint felt his lips twitch.

“No,” he repeated, doing his best to keep a straight face. “Sometimes I say fuck no.”

“Cute.”

She pressed her lips together and he wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Better yet, he imagined them circled around his cock as he fucked her smart, little mouth. It was definitely one way of shutting her up because he didn’t plan on answering any of her questions.

Why couldn’t Chadwick Carlisle’s daughter be a homely-looking, quiet mouse who did as she was told rather than this amazing blonde bombshell who taunted him each chance she got?

Or, better yet, why couldn’t he have had a son? Saint would’ve hog-tied him, gagged him with his own smelly socks and shoved his ass in the closet without a second thought. But he couldn’t do that to Mia. As feisty as she was, she also possessed a delicate side that he didn’t want to ruin in any way. Saint had done a lot of bad things in his life, but he refused to extinguish her light. At the Sip & Spark she’d described herself as a cat, and he had no desire to declaw her. He genuinely enjoyed her spirited, frisky nature.

“Does this have to do with my dad? Yes or no?” she asked.

When he ignored her question, her frustration bubbled over. After releasing an annoyed huff, she reached out and plucked a hair from his chest.

“Ow!” He slapped her hand away, rubbing at the stinging spot. “What the hell?”

“For every question you ignore, I’m ripping a hair out.”

“Like hell you are.”

She crossed her arms. “Just so you understand, if it does, you’re wasting your time. I already told you my dad doesn’t care about me. You’d have much better results if you hacked into his bank account and drained it.”

---