Page 77 of Cheater and the Saint
“Fuck, babe. You’re not nice.”
Saint looked up as a confused smile touched his sweet lips. “Huh? How am I being mean?”
I closed the distance between us and got on my knees in front of him, scooting his chair toward me before kissing his bare chest. A surprised gasp reached my ears as I licked one of his beaded nipples.
“Looking so damn tasty right when I walk through the door,” I said between kisses up his throat and to his mouth.
I kissed him then, lingering on his lips for several heartbeats.
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His blue eyes gleamed with mischief behind his black-framed glasses, and I knew right then he’d done it on purpose. The demon.
After an afternoon quickie on the couch, we showered together, where I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, and Saint didn’t want me to.
As the water hit his pale skin, I nipped down his shoulder and held him in my arms. My dick ached, and I wanted to bury myself in him so fucking bad, but not all guys flipped, and I respected his boundaries.
It still sucked sometimes, though.Like now.
Once we were out of the shower, I stayed quiet and let Saint work more on his psychology paper. He was interesting to watch because his brow furrowed, and he’d bite the corner of his lip as he typed. It was better than any movie I could’ve been watching. Every so often, he’d glance up and say, “What?”and I’d smirk and shrug my shoulders.
Dinner time came, and Saint and I cooked spaghetti. Okay, maybehecooked it and I pestered him and snuck bites, but same thing. As I leaned against the counter and watched him stir the sauce, a thought occurred to me.
This is what our life could be like.
After college and when we got our own place—if we were still together—that’s how every day could be. Saint would be his sexy, nerd self, and I’d poke fun at him. We’d laugh a lot and probably yell at each other a little, but we’d have a real life together. I wouldn’t be some bachelor who bed-hopped, but rather a guy who was happy being with one person.
I never knew I wanted a future like that until now.
“Tayte and I are goin’ to the Cowboy tonight,” I told him as we grabbed plates from the cabinet and filled them with spaghetti and meatballs. The oven dinged, and Saint got the garlic bread out before placing a few pieces on each of our plates. We sat at the table. “Do you wanna go?”
Saint pursed his lips. “I’m not sure. The last time I went with you didn’t turn out so great, and I don’t want to ruin your fun.”
“You won’t ruin shit,” I said. “I’d love if you were there. Although, I might have to beat all the guys away from you with a stick.”
He grinned. “Whatever. It’s more like the other way around, doofus.”
I scooped some noodles up with my fork and moaned at how good it tasted. How was it possible for Saint to be hot, smart, amazing in bed,andknow how to cook? The perfect package… in more ways than one.
“Leo?”
At the seriousness of his tone, I looked up and stopped eating.
“I’m not the kind of guy who likes parties or clubs or any of that,” he explained, and the worry in his voice reflected in his blue eyes, too. “I guess that’s something we’ll have to work around. I mean, the occasional party might be okay, but big crowds make me too nervous. It’s not my scene.”
“Do you think that’s a deal breaker for me?” I asked. He nodded, and my chest hurt. “Frosty, I don’t give a fuck if you hate bars and clubs. Yeah, it’d be fun to have you with me sometimes, but I’m not mad if you don’t want to go. As long asyouaren’t mad that I go out?”
Not sure why it came out like a question. Maybe I had some worries of my own.
“Of course not,” Saint said before taking a bite. A silence passed as he chewed. “As long as I’m the person you come home to, that’s all I care about.”
“Baby, no one but you will be getting a piece of me,” I said, knowing it was the complete truth. Ever since I almost lost him over a week ago, my desire for anyone else—including Callie—had vanished. I still noticed hot guys and beautiful girls, but the urge that once pushed me to act upon that attraction was gone. “I promise.”
I used tohateterms of endearment likebabyandsweetie,but I couldn’t fucking stop saying them to Saint. I must’ve been abducted by aliens, probed, and my brain changed to a different channel. The Saint Show.
God. I’m so damn cheesy.
“I believe you,” he said, and the look in his eyes made my chest feel all funny.
Later that night, I changed into my nicer jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt that I pushed up to my elbows. I made out with Saint against the door before Tayte stopped by and got me, and then we headed to the club.
