Page 70 of Cross My Heart

“Let me guess, the caterers just left,” I tease, as he returns to the breakfast prep. Bacon is sizzling on a grill pan, and there’s fresh bread, jams, and the scent of coffee in the air. I steal a sip from the mug he has poured already, and immediately, he goes to fix me a fresh mug.

“Don’t believe Imogen, I can manage a good English fry-up,” he promises, handing me the coffee. “How did you sleep?”

I sigh happily. “Like I was on a cloud.”

“Good.”

He returns to the stove, and I perch on a stool by the table, watching him at work as he pours the eggs into a buttery pan, and expertly folds them, nudging the bacon pan off the heat before it burns. “You’re spoiling me,” I say. “I usually just grab cold cereal or toast for breakfast.”

“Haven’t you heard? It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Well, I did eat late last night,” I can’t resist quipping. Then I laugh, “Sorry, terrible pun. I couldn’t resist.”

“That makes two of us.”

Saint deposits a plate in front of me with a flourish, before tilting my chin up and kissing me, deeper this time. I sigh, melting into the feel of his mouth, and the slow, sensuous way his tongue explores my mouth. By the time he draws back, and goes to fix his own plate, I’m just about ready to shove the breakfast dishes aside and demand he devour me, instead.

But the bacon smells too good to waste.

“This is delicious, thank you,” I say, biting into the first crispy piece. “And for being such a gentleman last night.”

“Always.” Saint pulls up a seat beside me, and we dig into the food. Jazz is playing low from another room, and with the morning sun gleaming through the windows, and leafy green backyard beyond, I find myself relaxing completely, just enjoying the simple pleasure of the meal and Saint’s easy company.

“Where are we, exactly?” I ask. “The neighborhood, I mean.”

“South Kensington,” Saint replies, drinking his coffee. “Hyde Park is nearby, if you fancy a walk. Or we could hit Harrods for a spot of shopping.”

I try not to laugh. As if my meager savings would stretch to that luxury hotspot. “Is there a train station nearby?” I ask instead. “I should really be getting back to Oxford.”

“Now, why would you want to do that?” Saint asks, with a playful sigh.

“Because I have a pesky thing called studying to do?” I smile. “Lectures to attend, work to catch up on before my classes this week. Some of my professors can be real assholes if you’re not caught up,” I remind him with a smirk.

“Or,” Saint suggests, “just as an alternative option, you blow all that off and stay here with me, naked in bed all day?”

I laugh. “Not this time.”

“Damn, I must be losing my touch,” Saint says, still playful. He gets up and takes his empty plate to the sink. “Don’t tell me you’ve already grown tired of my charms?”

I pretend to think about it. “Hmmm… Well, you are a pretty predictable man,” I joke, “Same old, same old, that’s Saint for you.”

In an instant, he has me up against the kitchen counter, his hands hot on my waist and his mouth blazing a path along my collarbone. “Predictable, huh?” Saint breathes on my bare skin, peeling my bathrobe wider to kiss and nip at the sensitive flesh of my throat.

“Boring. Bland.Old.” I tease breathlessly, even as I arch eagerly against his hands. “I mean, you can’t help it, losing your spark. You’re practically middle-aged—Ah!” I let out a shriek as Saint’s cool fingers slide under the bathrobe and pluck one nipple, making me shudder in a heady mix of pleasure and pain.

“Old?” Saint echoes, laughter rumbling against my skin. “You’ll pay for that…” His hands slide lower—and then withdraw. “… Another time.”

I blink, breathless, as he steps back, regarding me with an arrogant smirk. “I’d hate to be boring and predictable, after all,” Saint says with a grin. “And ravishing you on the kitchen counter… Well, that’s just old hat.”

I get dressedin yesterday’s clothes, and head back to Oxford. Saint insists on having a driver take me back, and I don’t put up much of a fight. After all, would I rather spend a couple of hours crammed in coach class on the train, or relaxing in the air-conditioned comfort of a luxury car? The countryside glides by the windows, and in no time at all, I’m deposited directly outside my apartment building—just as Kris and Jia emerge from inside.

“Hey guys,” I greet them, smiling. “What’s up?”

Jia’s eyes flick over my wrinkled clothing and the departing car. “Let me guess, another fabulous date with the professor?”

“We had dinner,” I admit. “Down in London.”

Kris looks annoyed. “So that’s why you didn’t make it to my show.”

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