Page 10 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

“Come on. Let me show you.”

“Saint, I’m kind of beat. And I really need to put on some clothes that aren’t torn.”

A cocky grin appeared on his face. “You know the lesson you can learn from all this, right?”

“And what’s that?”

“Always wear clothing that’s easily accessible for me.”

“God, you’re such a man.” I scoffed and turned on my heel when a sudden bout of nausea and dizziness slammed into me.

My feet faltered, and Saint’s arms wrapped around my waist, keeping me upright. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I placed a palm on my forehead. “Just a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“Come on.” Saint swept me from my feet and into his arms. I was too tired to object and merely placed my arms around his neck as he carried me down the hall. “I’ll arrange a doctor to make a house call first thing in the morning.”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“Still. You’re pregnant. We need a doctor to keep an eye on you and the baby.”

I closed my eyes, nestling my cheek against his shoulder. His earthy scent of sandalwood and musk comforted me. I loved how familiar it felt to be in his arms, as if there was nowhere else in the world I belonged other than with him.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too, Katarina.”

“You don’t call me by my second name often.”

“It’s a unique and beautiful name. Katarina.”

I smiled. “I like it when you call me that. Your accent is super sexy.”

“I’ll be sure to make a note of that for the next time you decide to deprive me of the pleasures of being your husband.”

I snickered and tightened my hold around his neck. “I hope it’s a boy.”

“You do?”

“Hmm-hmm. I want him to grow up in Italy so he can have the same accent as his dad.”

Saint stilled halfway down the hall. “You want to raise our child in Italy?”

“I think so.” I sighed. “New York reminds me too much of my troubled childhood, and I don’t want my past near my baby.” I looked up at him. “Is that the real reason you decided to bring me back here? The reason you bought this apartment?”

“I told you,” he started walking again, “I need to put as much distance as possible between you and my father.”

“Then why do I suddenly get the feeling you did this because you thought it was what I wanted?”

“I did it because I thought it was best.”

“Why do you do that?”

He eased the bedroom door open with his foot before entering. “Do what?”

I pushed my weight down, forcing him to let me go, and steadied myself on my feet. “You let your guard down one minute, only to slam concrete walls in my face the next.”

Saint roughed his hand through his midnight hair, his gaze drifting everywhere except at me. “I’m not used to this, Mila. I’m not used to feeling…things, let alone love someone. I’ll never be one of those men who spends hours talking about their feelings and how love changed them for the better.”

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