Page 58 of Fallen Saint

Saint gets into position, raising the gun toward me. It’s not loaded, of course. He has taught me how to disarm someone with a gun, and now, he wants me to show him how it’s done. I center myself, then reach out quickly and grab the barrel of the gun with my left hand before knocking his hand away with my right.

The trick to not getting shot is to ensure a fast approach. And I am.

Saint nods with a smirk. “Very good. What about now?” He gestures for me to give him the gun. When I comply, he walks around behind me, placing the barrel to the back of my head.

I raise my hands in the air, higher than the gun, and move them from side to side, distracting Saint so his peripheral vision will focus on my hands. In one swift move, I turn quickly, grabbing the gun as I twist Saint’s wrist. If I apply enough force, I could break his finger.

Once he’s disarmed, I bend my knees and mimic punching him in the throat.

All of this is done in under a second.

“I’m impressed,” Saint says, his hands raised in surrender.

“Thank you. I have a good teacher,” I reply, passing him the gun. “Who taught you how to do this?”

“I took some martial arts classes when I was a kid,” he reveals. “My parents thought I’d benefit from them, seeing as I was so scrawny growing up.”

“Do you miss them?” We don’t speak often of his past as I know it’s a touchy subject for him.

So he surprises me when he answers. “Every single day. Do you miss LA?”

I shrug because that life seems an eternity ago. “In some ways, I do. But after everything…that all seems so…”

“Insignificant?” Saint offers as I search for the right word.

“Yeah.” Because he’s right.

On the island, he told me he could never go back to living a normal life. I didn’t understand why that was, but now, I do.

“I most definitely don’t miss modeling.”

Saint smiles, and the sight is truly epic. With his good looks, he could grace any magazine cover or billboard. “Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s a cutthroat industry, but it’s also a lonely one. And besides, my look isn’t exactly ideal anymore.” When he arches a brow, I pull down the strap of my crop top, revealing my scar from the bullet wound. “Any imperfection is one’s downfall, and believe me, there are ten other girls more than willing to take your place.”

Saint steps forward, rubbing his fingers over my wound. I know he still feels guilty for shooting me. “It’s not an imperfection.”

My skin breaks out into goose bumps because his hands on me always provoke this response. When he shifts slightly so we’re out of camera range, he lowers his lips to my shoulder and kisses the scar. “It shows the world how strong you truly are.”

I whimper, unable to mask my desire for him. “Saint, don’t,” I whisper because I don’t have the strength to stop this if things escalate.

“I can’t stop,” he exposes hoarsely, tonguing over my scar leisurely.

Although we are out of camera range, we both know someone can walk in at any time. But when he grips the back of my neck and kisses my throat, I suddenly don’t care. In this fucked-up place, being with him is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

And I want him to know that.

I still haven’t told him how I feel because saying it aloud is so…daunting. But there is no denying my feelings for him as they grow every single day. What I feel is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, even with Drew. But thinking back to that relationship, I realize how naïve I was.

I thought what I had with Drew was real, but in reality, I can’t even remember what it felt like being with him. It’s like I’ve replaced his memory because, in the end, he wasn’t worth remembering. But with Saint, he is someone I will never forget.

“Saint,” I gasp, arching my head backward, offering myself to him. “I want to tell you something.”

“What,a?????”

The soft bristles of his beard make it near impossible to focus on anything other than his lips on my skin, but I focus because it’s time he knew.

“I…I…” But my admission will have to wait for another day because when his cell chimes, indicating he has a text, he groans against me.

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