Page 33 of Cross My Heart

Tessa

“Finally, the woman sees sense.”

Saint steers back onto the road, reaching over to turn up the heat as I settle in the passenger seat, dripping water all over his fine leather interior. “Nice car,” I remark, amused as I take it in. “Silver, sporty… Looks like I was right about you.”

Saint looks over, grinning. “Don’t gloat, it’s not polite.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to be the rude, uncouth American,” I say, sitting back. “It’s kind of early for a midlife crisis car, don’t you think?”

“I inherited it,” he replies, and his smile slips, just for a moment. Then he focuses on the radio dial. “Now, how about a little music to set the mood…”

“It’s Raining Men?” I quip. “Umbrella?”

“Ah, here we go.” He settles on a station, and I’m surprised to hear smoky jazz emerge from the speakers.

“Aren’t you more of a classical guy?” I ask. “You know, snooty and elitist?”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that slides over my skin like molasses. “I can be snooty and elitist about jazz, don’t you worry. Now, where am I taking you? Back to college?”

“Yes, please.”

“And I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a detour…?” he asks, his voice full of promise. “For a quick drink, perhaps?”

“No.” I fix him with a stern look. “Ashford. Thank you.”

“As you wish.” Saint nods, and makes a turn, heading down the familiar High Street. I relax, but I can’t deny the electricity that crackles between us, just being close to him.

I sneak a glance over at Saint. His hair is curling from the damp weather, and he’s wearing a navy jacket that brings out the blue of his eyes. But it’s not just the way he looks that's affecting me. The man has a presence, an enigmatic energy that radiates from him in the small car, drawing me in.

Making me feel bold and reckless all over again.

He shoots me a playful look. “I have a dry sweater in the back, if you want to change out of those wet things.”

I smirk. “I expected a little more finesse, if you’re trying to get me naked.”

“That’s right, I forget,” Saint replies. “You prefer candlelight, and a crowded room.”

A bolt of lust goes through me at the memory.

“I wasn’t the naked one,” I remind him, keeping my voice casual, even as my body goes up in flames. “That was your friend. I didn’t catch her name…”

“Neither did I.” Saint grins wider. Our eyes catch, and I realize, it’s the first time we’ve acknowledged out loud what happened at the party. It’s thrilling, not to be dancing around it with suggestions and double entendre anymore.

“So,” I begin, giving in to curiosity. “Is that kind of thing a regular event for you?”

“The Midnight parties? Occasionally,” he nods, still casual, as if we’re talking about a book club or poker night, not an extravagant sex party full of your wildest fantasies. “They started this year. Nobody knows who’s behind them, just that the invitation arrives out of the blue… If you’re lucky.”

“Are they all themed like that?” I ask.

He nods. “Every event is different; you never know just what you’re going to find. Orwhom,” he adds, glancing over at me.

I flush, despite myself. I can play it cool all I want on the outside, but this is all new to me. New, and wildly exciting.

But I don’t want Saint to know that my previous sexual experiences can’t hold a candle to what we did last weekend, so I just give a casual shrug. “It was a fun time, I guess. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Saint chuckles again, and I can tell, he’s not buying my jaded act. “And you saw plenty, didn’t you?”

My blush deepens, but luckily, he’s pulled up outside of my building. “Thanks for the ride,” I blurt, already reaching for the door. “See you in class!”

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