Page 76 of Vicious Saint
But together?
Fucking explosive.
Kind of like now, as his lips descend to my neck, blowing small puffs of cool air against the warmth of my skin.
“You in a rush, Jimi?”
His question comes out so breathy, erotic, that the sound of it zaps through every one of my nerve endings. Sending me reeling in tingles, sweat, and chills I can feel all the way down to my core.
“Why fight the inevitable, right?”
“Oh, for good reason.”
Saint takes the hand in my hair and slides it to my nape, bringing our faces together.
His fingers are the perfect mix of rough and gentle.
Hot and cold. Eager and patient.
Maybetoopatient.
When his lips ghost over mine, I can’t help but wonder how he’d feel against them. Or what’d happen if I threw all hate and caution to the wind and let him have his way with me.
Once again, I should be scared of getting this close to Saint, but here I am, indulging in his distinctive scent of orange…on the verge of taking a bite of a fruit that’s most forbidden.
“And what reason is that?”
Saint glances down at where he holds us, a breath apart from kissing. “Because worse things may happen when you reach theinevitable.” He pauses, then, with a smile cold as ice, adds, “Especially if you don’t stay thefuckaway from my sister.”
8
Hendrix
Piano keys echo their slow trancing melody, and the smell of something pungent, like rosemary, invades my nostrils making them twitch.
I fight the need to toss my juniper bouquet as I pull down the side of my maid-of-honor gown, the fabric feeling a lot less like satin and a lot more like Velcro against my skin.
To hell with comfort, though, when there’s a statement to make. And this ruched, low cut, backless number sure is doing the trick in front of all the self-righteous judgment.
The past two months have been nothing short of a whirlwind: between finishing up junior year, wedding plans, dresses, gowns, flowers, avoidance, denial, and attempts to flee each one. The only saving grace was being left with such little time to deal with the ticking time bomb thatisSaint and Hendrix.
For the most part…the closest I’ve gotten to him has been through Theory, and he’s made it clear the only reason he’s backing off right now is for his father and sister’s sake.
Not even my mother’s.
Of course we indulged in some moments.
Dirty looks in class, flipping each other off in the halls, hushed threats at the dinner table whenever Mom forced me to eat at their house. Or should I say eight-storyGilded Age mansion, as per the itemized tour given to us by Vic.
In a twilight zone somewhere, I could see him and Archer being related for sure. The only difference being one owns a stage and the other the world’s leading cybertech company.
All in all, throughout the growing hostility, Saint and I managed to keep up pretenses in the presence of our families.
After tonight, though, the deal is sealed. There’re no more excuses to hold back or maintain our fake smiles. Reality will hit the second our parents take off on a private jet to Santorini, Greece.
Luckily for me, Mom and I exchanged our own vows, one of hers being a promise not to push me into living with them. Especially now that we’re right smack in the middle of summer.
There are “oohs” and “aahs” whispered in the air around me as I pass, like old ladies do to a precious little girl they can’t believe has “gotten so big.”
