Page 23 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

“Stop,” I warned, pointing an angered finger at her—a finger I should have been pointing at myself. “I gave you a chance to fucking leave.”

“Yet for some inexplainable reason, I’m still here.” She held her arms wide. “Last night, after your alcohol induced confession, I thought about leaving a hundred goddamn times.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I bit out. “Why didn’t you fucking leave?”

“Because every time I thought about walking out that motherfucking door, it felt like every bone in my body was being broken in half.” The hard edge in her voice was a complete contradiction to the pain in her eyes. Tears lapped over her lips. “Every time I thought about not being with you, it hurt so goddamn much I couldn’t fucking breathe, Saint. I couldn’t do it. Even after everything you’ve done,” her lips trembled and eyes glistened, “I just can’t walk away from you.”

I launched forward, grabbed her arms, and pulled her close. My mouth attacked hers, claiming her lips hard and heavy, assaulting them with every ounce of regret that consumed me. I wanted to erase my betrayal with this one kiss, let her pain consume me rather than ruin her.

Her soft whimpers of agony collided with the saltiness of her sorrow that invaded our kiss, but it only made me kiss her harder. It made me more determined to pour everything I had into that one simple act of passion.

She didn’t hesitate. Made no attempt to stop me. Her lips parted and welcomed my tongue, welcomed my onslaught even though her world was crashing down…because of me. Because I infected her life, turned it upside down, and destroyed every inch of steady ground she had. Guilt had my thoughts racing, counting each and every wrong I had done unto her. But while her taste exploded in my mouth, I didn’t care. I didn’t give a fuck about anything other than my need to own her wholly.

I coiled my arms around her waist, my hands slipping down to cup her ass, squeezing her harder against me.

“I hate you,” she whispered against my lips.

“Say that again.”

She grabbed my shirt and fisted the fabric as if she wanted to push me away…but she didn’t. Instead, she pulled me harder against her. “I hate you so goddamn much.”

My cock pressed painfully against my pants, and I gave a hard thrust against her body. “Say it again.” I nipped her bottom lip and brought my arm up between us, grabbing hold of her jaw between my fingers. “Tell me how much you fucking hate me.” I turned her face to the side, the lingering tears shimmering on cheeks, yet her body rocked against mine. “Tell me.”

“I hate you more now than I ever have.” Her voice held conviction, but her body leaned against mine in submission. It was fucking beautiful to witness the war that raged within her. Her mind against her body. Her heart against soul. And I was addicted to watching her body rule her mind, and how her heart willingly sacrificed her soul for me. The man who demanded so much of her. And the man she so eagerly gave everything.. I should hate myself for letting her tear herself apart over me. But I didn’t. In fact, I relished her torture of constantly fighting what she felt for me.

I bit my bottom lip as I watched the sunlight dance across the glimmering tears on her cheek. Even her pain was fucking beautiful.

My fingers dug into her hip, and I jerked her around and pulled her against me, her ass giving my cock the friction it needed to alleviate a little of the ache that possessed every muscle.

I leaned over her shoulder, and her arm lifted as her hand lingered on my neck. “You hate me, yet your body burns for me.” I gripped the fabric of her dress, and with steady fingers, I pulled it up over her thighs, the exquisite sound of her heavy breathing singing to my blood. “Why do you think that is?”

“Wish I knew,” she whispered through labored breaths, “because then I’d know how to stop it.”

I smirked. “And what makes you think I’d let you?”

“You probably won’t.” She pressed her nails into the skin of my neck. “But at least I won’t make it this fucking easy for you.”

I tightened my grip around her throat and dipped my hand inside her panties, cupping her cunt in my palm. A simple yet bold move which earned me a heavy moan from her lips, met with a groan from mine when I felt her heat and how goddamn wet she was for me. It had to feel like hell unleashed on her soul with her body contradicting everything she felt. Her lust was stronger than her pain. Her need heavier than her broken heart.

With a flick of my wrist, I forced her head to the side and dragged my tongue up the side of her neck, tasting her skin, and starved for a fill. “I’m going to be honest with you, Mila.” I reached down and slipped a finger easily inside her. “Every night, I would lie awake thinking of how I could become a better man…for you.” My finger moved in and out of her slick heat. “With every decision I’ve made the last few weeks, I’d stop and think, what would Mila want me to do?” I nipped at her ear and lapped my tongue around the curve, her ass pressing harder against me. “Last night was me trying to do the right thing. I wanted to be less selfish. But here’s the thing, Mila.” With my fingers still on her jaw, I jerked her face toward mine, pinning my gaze to hers. “I hated it.” With my thumb finding her clit, I applied the slightest bit of pressure, and her body shuddered against mine. “I hated trying to be the better man. Hated not doing the selfish thing by fucking you over that goddamn dressing table while watching your expression in the broken mirror.” Her eyes rolled closed, her mouth forming the perfect O while I worked her clit with steady circles. “And look where it got us, Mila. Look how it ended.”

Her lips parted. “You hurt me.”

“I know. But ask yourself this.” I thrust my cock hard against her ass. “When did I hurt you the most? The day I took you”—I slipped a second finger into her, and she moaned—“or last night when I tried to be the better man?”

Her hips rocked, and I no longer had to move my fingers inside her since she started to fuck them of her own accord.

“That’s what I thought.” I crashed my lips against hers and kissed her like it was the last time. Like I’d never be able to taste her again. Our bodies moved together as one, and she was so fucking eager to rub her ass against my throbbing cock. We were both racing to the edge, chasing release. Her moans grew louder as I applied more and more pressure on that sensitive bud that made her lose all her inhibitions.

“You see, Mila,” I whispered into her mouth, “I don’t have to become a better man. You just need to accept the fact that you crave the bad in me, get off on how fucked-up everything is between us…and that you’ve fallen for the devil.”

“Stop,” she whispered.

“Not a chance.”

“Stop, please.” She begged breathlessly yet reached down and pushed my hand deeper into her panties.

“You’re such a fucking contradiction, Mila. Pleading for something while your body demands the opposite.”

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