Page 46 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

He inched closer, Italian leather shoes touching my ivory satin heels. Our bodies were so near each other, not even the subtle summer breeze could slip between us. A strong arm snaked around my waist and pulled me against him, a whimper rushing from my lips. It was a passionate act that robbed my lungs of air right before it tore my world from under me. Like a thief in the night, he stole my heart from my chest. A swindler who took what I wasn’t ready to give with a single kiss. A tender moment. A beautiful deed of sordid intentions.

Our lips brushed, and our mouths melted together in a caress that was a mere whisper, yet powerful enough to let me lose my way, losing my sense of direction, no longer knowing whether I was moving or standing still. His kiss tore through the barrier of my lips, and with a single sweep of his tongue against mine, he tipped my world off its axis. A simple kiss and gravity was lost.

He tasted of earth and water, fire and ice, salvation and destruction all together in a tender kiss that held me captive throughout a stolen moment in time. A moment where my hate for him was pushed back and made way for a flicker of desire—something that made no sense to me. But my inhibitions had been carried away by the breeze, and my walls came tumbling down, allowing me to not care about anything other than the feel of his lips against mine.

He pulled away, but I kept my eyes closed while his kiss still lingered on my lips together with the bittersweet taste of how the devil stole my soul. My identity. My heart.

18

Saint

Kissing Mila wasnothing like I had expected.

It was more. Much. More.

Numerous women had stained my sheets, but I could count on one hand how many of them I kissed. People said sex was the most intimate act between man and woman. I disagreed. There was far more weight in a kiss than ramming your cock in some random pussy. And kissing Mila proved that somehow. Her sweet taste, soft lips, and velvet tongue stirred my insides to life. It swallowed the darkness, a sliver of light tearing through the veil of black. The way she surrendered her fight and gave in to the kiss made me wonder if she felt it too, or was I merely grabbing on to something that wasn’t there?

It happened when she walked out on the deck, the breeze ruffling through the overlay of her dress, wild curls falling down her shoulders. It was a juncture in time when she became more than just a means to an end, more than a wife whose name I needed on a piece of paper. She wasn’t just the Torres girl anymore. She was mine.

The entire time we stood there before the captain, all I thought about was the moment I’d be able to kiss her. I craved that moment. Longed for it. I wanted to know what she tasted like, how her lips would feel crushed against mine.

I didn’t know what the fuck was happening, and not knowing meant I didn’t have control. Not having control wasn’t a luxury I could afford—especially now that I was so close to getting what I wanted. So close to tasting the vengeance I’d craved for so long. I couldn’t let a woman distract or pull me off course while on my way to the destination I had in sight.

With a heavy reluctance, I tore my lips from hers, and the sweet whimper that slipped from her lips had me biting my tongue.

Our gazes met, the moon casting a subtle shimmer across her cheeks. Pale pink lips begged for mine, and it took all my self-control to take a step back. I had to break the moment, sever the connection in order to evade my growing desire for this woman. If I let it continue, it would become a distraction that would cost me too much.

I crouched and picked up her bouquet, handing it back to her. Our fingers brushed, and I swallowed as desire flared. “All the necessary documents have been prepared. Our signatures are all that’s needed.”

She seemed surprised. “How did you—”

“There is nothing in this world money can’t buy, Mila. Getting you a valid passport in yourrealname was hardly a complication.” I smirked. “Now, let’s go sign those documents.”

Her lips parted, unshed tears still lingering in the corners of her eyes—a strong reminder that what I had made her do caused her pain. It was also a sign for me not to forget what this really was.

A business transaction.

A merger.

An arranged marriage that, after almost a century, finally took place.

I turned my back on her and grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray held by one of the crew. I had to walk away. I had to shake this motherfucking awful feeling that I had just done something that could never be undone. A carving in stone that neither money nor blood could erase.

It was unlike me to fight the craving whenever I wanted something. There was nothing I couldn’t have, nothing I wouldn’t allow myself to indulge in. But there was a gnawing warning scratching at my bones that Mila was an indulgence I would drown in. Become addicted to after one taste.

My feet stomped across the wooden deck, and I heard the click of heels behind me. The marriage documents had been placed on the white oak table in the dining area. The glass of champagne I had was already empty, and with a mere wave of a hand, I was given a new glass.

Mila stood at the other end of the table, and I grabbed the pen, holding it out to her. “Your name is stated as Milana Katarina Torres on all the documents. Make sure to sign accordingly.” I slid a new ID card across the table. “Your Italian ID card. From here on out, you are Milana Katarina Russo, and no longer Mila Black. Understood?”

She gave me a brief nod, an unacceptable response from a new wife.

I slammed my fist on the table, and Mila yelped, shutting her eyes. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, sign.”

Wary eyes locked on mine, and I watched as she rounded the table to take her place at my side. Her bottom lip trembled, and her hand shook as she reached for the pen.

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