Page 298 of Vicious Saint
Glancing around the room, which is still locked up tight, I shake my head. “Nah, all good.”
“You sure? You’re practically in tears.”
I reach a hand up to touch my cheek, and sure enough, it’s wet.
“Huh.” I chuckle at my glossy fingers. “Would you look at that?”
“Was it about what happened at the club?” Saint presses, and the mere mention is enough to have the monster with black eyes flashing behind him.
“Nope. Honestly…I don’t even remember it.”
Saint’s face calls bullshit, and his lips are opening to say it, too, when I cut them off with a swift change of subject.
“Shit…when did I fall asleep?”
He checks the time on his phone, yawning, “Somewhere between a minute and two hours ago.”
Which means…
“Damn, you barely got any rest, huh?”
“It’s all good.” Saint pulls me into his chest, which has been stripped down to a white tank, and lays us down on the bed. “Like I said…no sleep for the wicked.”
Or me ever again…
We remain quiet, my unease from the dream slowly melting away with the warmth of Saint’s body, and my clarity returning in the form of his fresh citrus scent.
There was no monster in my head.
There is no monster next to me.
Just a guy whose love for me is undeniable.
And mine, the same for him.
“Please go to sleep,” I whisper, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “I’m gonna try too.”
It’s a flat out lie, but a necessary one if I want to stand a chance of getting him to listen. I already hate it enough that I’m the reason he’s barely gotten rest in days.
“You sure you’re good?” Saint breathes a low sigh, already telling me he’s on his way.
“I’m good, Letterman. Promise.”
“Alright, alright…” He yawns. “But if you need me, I’m only a blowjob away.”
Saint won round two with a nap, and I managed to cling hard enough to him to do the same.
I know this because I was just blasted out of adreamlesssleep by a loud woman in a dress and six inch murder heels.
“Whaton earthis going on here?” Mom snaps at me from the side of the bed.
I blink through heavy eyelids, finding her in an outrage, and Auntie in a state of not surprised.
Adrenaline hits like a punch to the throat.
Oh, shit, shit, shit.
This is not good.
