Page 69 of Cross My Heart

“Tessa…” his groans echo, a roar of pure animal need. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.Fuck…”

He pulls out of my mouth, but his groans don’t stop. I hear the slap of flesh on flesh, and then suddenly, Saint sounds a roar, and I feel a rush of hot liquid, sticky on my breasts.

He’s coming on me.

Fuck.

The knowledge that I’m on my knees, blindfolded, with Saint spilling his climax all over my naked body for everyone to see…

It’s too much.Too good. My orgasm slams through me, blotting out everything but the sweet, intense rush of pleasure, and the sound of Saint’s praise.

I sink back against the chaise, dizzy with one of the most intense orgasms of my life. I can’t move. I can’t even lift my hands to remove the blindfold, I just lay there, stunned and gasping.

Holy shit.

As if from far away, I hear the sound of Saint’s zipper, and then his hands are on me, wiping my body down with some kind of cool, damp cloth. I sigh, worn out, happy to be tended to, as I float here in a blissful cloud.

Because what just happened? Even my wildest fantasy could never come close.

Chapter19

Tessa

The next morning, I wake in an unfamiliar bed, made with the softest linens I’ve ever felt against my skin. I stretch, still lost in the haze of sleep, until I finally open my eyes to sunlight filtering through the airy drapes and pooling on the polished wooden floors.

Saint’s house.

I sit up, and look around, memories from last night flooding back to me. After the scene at the club, I felt like I was floating, blissed out on an intense sexual high. Saint brought me back here, and put me to bed in the luxurious guest room, every inch the gentleman—despite being so dominant and adventurous just moments before. He still surprises me, and every time I peel back a layer, I find there’s something unexpected waiting to be discovered.

Like the fact he didn’t just take me to bed and fuck me senseless last night, the way my body so obviously craved.

But as I slowly stretch, yawning, I realize I’m glad he called it a night when he did. Every encounter we share is wilder, more thrilling than the last. It’s overwhelming to experience a desire like this, for the first time in my life, and as much as I should be pushing my investigation right now, I want to take things slow.

And keep a firm grip on my self-control.

Because I can’t deny that the connection between us is growing deeper now. Stronger. Talking about our families over dinner, the shoes his brother left him to fill… I understand, because I’ve felt the same way, wondering if I can ever live up to Wren. And learning more about what he’s been going through… It makes me see him in a whole new light.

Except he’s still the same man, I remind myself sternly, as I finally get out of bed. Reckless, seductive. A full-on rake, as my historical romance novels would say. Who else would have me on my knees in front of a room full of strangers, shamelessly swallowing his cock and moaning for more?

Connection means nothing I’m just here to investigate his friends and have some more mind-blowingly seductive fun.

Aren’t I?

I finda fluffy bathrobe hanging on the en suite bathroom door, plus all the high-end toiletries a woman could want. After freshening up, I head downstairs, in search of Saint—and the delicious bacon smell that’s wafting through the house.

On my way to the kitchen, I look around, curious. I was still in my orgasmic haze last night, and didn’t really take it in, but now I realize I’m in another historic townhouse. This one has been recently renovated, opening up the narrow hallways and small rooms to form a modern, expansive space. The staircase is metal and glass, and everywhere is warm sunlight and clean lines, which makes a dramatic contrast to the vintage furniture, moody artwork, and heavy antique rugs.

I find Saint in an airy kitchen/diner with black-and-white checkerboard marble floors and a massive Aga stove dominating one corner. He’s barefoot in jeans and an unbuttoned shirt, hair still wet from the shower as he whisks eggs at the huge farmhouse table island in the middle of the room.

I can’t deny the way my stomach turns a slow loop at the sight of him.

God, this man is beautiful.

“Good morning,” I say finally, and he looks up, smiling at the sight of me.

“It is now.” Saint beckons me over, then draws me against him for a lazy kiss. I inhale the scent of him, clean and citrusy, and feel a dangerous sense of peace.

Like I belong here.

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