Page 42 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

It sounded like he mocked me. As if he took pleasure in my agony.

Tears burned my eyes, anger intensifying my aching need.

“Now, close those legs and get out of the pool.” He stood and tore the dirty shirt from his body, tossing it to the ground. “Dinner is waiting.”

14

Saint

The blossomof pink on her cheeks and the fiery red in her eyes had her looking like a goddess. Naked, needy, and flushed, Milana Katerina Russo was fucking radiant. I was addicted to the color of rage in her irises, how it turned her from a simple woman to a strong and worthy opponent. I’d say sparring with her had become my favorite pastime. It spiked a surge of adrenaline in my veins and made me want her more than I’d ever wanted any woman. In fact, her presence in my life had blinded me to the appeal of all other women.

When I watched her undress, revealing every inch of her naked body, my thoughts were possessed with nothing but her. I wanted to watch her swim for hours. Watch how the water made love to her body as she effortlessly cleaved through the surface. But she played this game far too well, embracing her role as seductress and making me lose control—something I didn’t take kindly to. And now we were at my favorite part of the game between us, the part where I showed her there was no tempting the beast. No stirring the devil’s blood without drowning in it.

I glanced up from my plate and noticed she hadn’t touched her food. “Not hungry?”

“No.”

I swallowed the food in my mouth and sat back. “You look—how do Americans put it? Pissed.”

Her top lip curled. “Being denied orgasm does that to a girl.”

I smiled. “And the fact that you’re sitting at the dining table naked has nothing to do with it?”

Her brows lifted, and she leaned back, crossing her arms below her naked tits, those pretty, rosy nipples begging to be sucked and nibbled. “You’ve already stolen my dignity from me more than once.” She shrugged. “Being naked around you is becoming the new norm for me.”

I pulled my lips in a straight line, admiring her spunk but unappreciative of the disrespect that rang in her tone of voice. “Eat your food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s considered ill manners when someone buys you food and you refuse to eat it.”

Mila leaned forward, her loose curls falling over her shoulders. “It’s also considered rude when a husband doesn’t pleasure his wife.”

“Unless she’s been acting like a brat and he’s trying to teach her a lesson.”

“Or prove a point is more like it.” She sat back, her full lips pouted and eyes glaring.

I grabbed the napkin from my lap and tossed it on the table. “And what point is that?”

“That you’re in control. That you dictate every fucking aspect of my life right down to the second you decide whether I can get off or not. I get it, Saint. I got the message loud and clear when you shot Brad right in front of me.”

“Yet not even that was a lesson enough for you to know when to keep your goddamn mouth shut.”

Mila pursed her lips, and I wanted to reach out and squeeze her cheeks while I forced my mouth over hers.

“Why?” She crossed her legs under the table.

“Why what?”

“Why are you so hellbent on mindfucking me all the time?”

I frowned. “Is that your question for today?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate.

My mind scurried as I tapped my finger lightly on the table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

---