Page 28 of Saint

He tasted like spearmint gum and even in her addled state, her brain latched onto the fact that he hadn’t smoked since they’d arrived in Russia.Mmm.She loved the way his mouth devoured hers. She’d never been kissed so thoroughly. In fact, she hadn’t been kissed in years. The last guy she’d kissed had been—oh, God, she couldn’t even remember, all memories of him vanishing as a large hand covered her breast. Her brain nearly short-circuited. Nik’s touch lit her up like the Fourth ofJuly and she arched into his palm, ready to blast off like a bottle rocket. He squeezed her breast through the thin barrier of fabric, massaging and plucking her pebbled nipple.

The kiss seemed to go on forever and Mia hoped it would never end. She couldn’t get enough. The slide of his tongue against hers, the way he explored her mouth, drinking deeply, left her panting. Her body grew desperate, and when she rocked her hips, rubbing her pussy against his planted knee, Nik jolted back, as though struck by lightning.

Dazed, she watched him scramble backward and climb out of the tub, nearly slipping in his haste. “Nik—”

He exhaled a sharp breath and stood there on the bathmat, dripping water. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he rasped.

Mia’s gaze dropped to the huge bulge straining against his zipper and licked her lips, eyeing it. Obviously, his cock disagreed. He seemed ready to play.

His brows drew together in a fierce scowl and he turned away. “Finish your bath.”

Before she could say another word, he stormed out. Letting out a sigh, she wondered what she did wrong.

???

Ignoring his dick’s response to Mia, Saint stomped into the living room and glowered at the fireplace. He needed to remember who exactly she was and why he was holding onto her. The one and only reason he had stolen Mia Carlisle away from that parking lot was because her father was his enemy and his team planned on using her to catch the bastard.

Simple and straightforward, and definitely no reason for his dick to get involved.No reason at all, he reminded his unruly cock, palming it through his jeans. Whatever had happened in that bathroom, he had to squash it. Immediately.

“Nik?”

“Oh, Christ,” he grumbled, swiping a hand through his cropped hair, and forcing himself to turn back to the bathroom. This had to be the world’s worst kidnapping and the Universe was laughing at him. Mia stood in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, light and steam outlining her pale form like the sexiest angel he’d ever seen.

“I, ah, need some clothes,” she said softly.

Right. Yes, for the love of God, get the woman some clothes.Without a word, he stalked over to the bedroom and walked to the one closet, hoping and praying there was something in there she could wear since their bags were still with Dmitri and Lev’s corpses. Otherwise, she’d be prancing around in that blasted towel until her other clothes dried, and he didn’t think he’d be able to take it.

A coat hung on a hanger, but that was it. Stifling a groan, he turned around and zeroed in on a dresser.

“Anything?” Mia asked, and he glanced over his shoulder. She stood there in her bare feet looking unsure and so damn beautiful.

Gritting his teeth, he yanked the top drawer open and saw a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms.Slava Khristu.Pulling them out, he walked over to her and shoved them into her hands. “Here. Put this on.”

“Nik?” She sounded so unsure, so hesitant.

“What?” he growled.

“You seem angry.”

Angry at himself maybe, sure. He never should’ve kissed her much less crawled into the tub with her and touched her the way he had. As if she belonged to him.

Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “I’m not angry,” he forced out. No, he was horny as hell. The temptation to rip that towel off her, pick her up and fuck her against the wall was nearly his undoing.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Why did it bother him that she sounded so unsure? He locked gazes with her and saw confusion swirling in her azure eyes.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he repeated, doing his best to sound cold and distant.

When she took a step closer, he froze. “I liked it,” she admitted softly.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, his dick throbbed and he swallowed hard, telling himself to be the cold, indifferent bastard he was. “You’re not my type, Mia,” he said simply.

Her mouth fell open at the insult, but quickly snapped closed. Before she started yelling—or worse, crying—he moved past her, shoving the dry clothes into her hands. “I’m going to start a fire. Make sure you put your wet clothes near it so they can dry out.”

Embrace your inner bastard,he told himself. God knew, he was damn good at being the bad guy. Years of practice had honed his sarcasm into a lethal weapon.

Back in the living room, he gathered some kindling and used his lighter to start a fire. After arranging the logs, he got a good blaze going and sat back, watching the flames flicker and crackle. But as much as he tried to focus on what to do next, he couldn’t stop thinking about how soft Mia’s lips were. How sweet she tasted. And, best of all, how responsive she’d been. She had initiated that unforgettable kiss, had boldly pulled him right into the damn tub, and he’d been helpless to resist.

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