Page 82 of Cheater and the Saint
I was no longer that robot who was desperate for a human connection. The one who was lonely but unable to escape his solitude.
Leo had breathed life into me.
***
“So… I have a question.”
Leo stopped the search for what shirt to wear in his messy closet and looked at me over his shoulder. “I might have an answer, but it’ll cost ya.”
I rolled my eyes.
I’d fucked him good and hard this morning and once more that afternoon, and his eyebrow waggle suggested he was down for another round. We were getting ready to leave and meet Heath and his girlfriend Tabitha for dinner that Saturday night. I was only a little nervous.
“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” I asked in a slightly shaky voice.Meeting the familytook our relationship to the next level, and I didn’t know if he was ready for that step yet. Sure I was meeting his brother that night, but parents were different. “My mom wanted to meet you, and I thought it’d be nice to bring you home.”
“Bring me home?” Leo repeated with a sly look in his eyes. “Like a dog?”
“More like a rat.”
Leo lunged at me, and I squeaked as I braced myself on the bed. His large body landed on mine before he nuzzled my neck.
“I’ll show you rat.” He nipped at the sensitive area below my ear and sucked my earlobe in his mouth.
He was insufferable.
“Off, you sex fiend,” I said, grabbing his strong shoulders, but instead of pushing him away, I clung on tighter. Damn him. He felt too amazing in my arms. “Should I tell her you’ll be there or not? I didn’t know if you had plans with your family.”
There it was. An opening for him to talk about them.
“I’d love to come meet your mama and eat some turkey,” he said before kissing the base of my throat. “Will there be sweet potato pie?”
“Yes. I make it every year,” I answered, nuzzling my head to his. “You can eat as much as you want.”
“Seriously? Just marry me right now, Frosty, and we can rule the Saintly Realm together.”
I shoved against him and laughed. “That title is bullshit.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d intentionally avoided talking about his family, or if the topic of food had distracted him—as if often did.
“What the fuck ever,” he said, getting off me and walking back over to his tornado disaster of a closet. “That title is badass. I came up with it.”
“Always so modest.”
“I know, right?”
The shit-eating grin he tossed me had me shaking my head. But my heart was full.
We were meeting his brother at Texas Roadhouse, a restaurant with incredible food, but with a wait time that majorly sucked. The place was busy enough during the work week, but on the weekend, it was packed. People stood outside as they waited to be seated, and as we went inside, there was a line to talk to the hostess.
She wrote down names and handed out the devices that beeped when your table was ready.
“Well this blows,” I said to Leo as we waited.
“No worries, Frosty. I made a reservation.”
I arched a brow at him. “I’m impressed.”
“Hey, I use my brain sometimes,” he responded, placing his hand at my lower back.
