Page 83 of Cross My Heart

“Sweetheart,” Saint replies, looking smug. “Come on in. I have a key cut for you,” he adds, as he strolls down the hallway to the kitchen. “There’s no need to knock.”

“Asshole,” I say again, louder this time. Fury beats through me—especially when I see a box of my things sitting on the table. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” I demand. “I told you I wasn’t moving in with you. N. O.” I spell it out, spitting mad. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

“The part where you’re hurt, and shaken, and don’t even want to spend the night alone in your own apartment!”

I step back, blinking. Saint looks just about as furious as I feel, practically shaking with tension.

“I… That’s not the point,” I frown, distracted by the fierce possession in his gaze.

“It’s entirely the point,” Saint roars. “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?"

“By wanting to make decisions for myself?” I retort. “This is my life; you can’t just bulldoze over me every time I don’t agree with you!”

“Not every time,” Saint replies grimly, “Just when you’ve been through a traumatic ordeal, and need someone to take care of you.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I insist, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth. “I don’t need anyone—” Saint curses, cutting me off.

“Would you give it a rest, for one minute?” he demands, face dark with fury. “You’re not some superhero, you don’t have to do this alone! Why won’t you let me help you?” he demands. “Why won’t you let your guard down for just one minute, and let me in? Christ, Tessa, when I heard that you’d been hurt…” Saint paces, dragging a hand through his unruly hair. “I goddamn near lost my mind! You think I like feeling this way?” he demands, moving closer to me. “No! But I’ll be damned if anyone lays a finger on you from now on… Except me.”

Wow.

I’m frozen in place, stunned by the fierce passion in his gaze.

Stunned… And turned on. Because fuck, I’ve never seen Saint like this: desperate and undone. Out of control.

Because of me.

He stands there, just inches from me, breathing erratically. But despite the anger and frustration in his voice, his touch couldn’t be gentler when he reaches out, and tenderly cups my cheek. “Let me take care of you, Tessa,” he says hoarsely, his eyes full of conflicted emotion. “Please… Let me protect you. Just this once.”

Emotion wells at his ragged plea, making me reach for him. Making me hold on tight.

Because I’ve been so alone in this.

I’ve taken care of myself, because I had to. Told myself everything will be OK because I’ve had no other choice. Trying so hard to reach Wren, to save her from herself—and failing. Dealing with the heartbreaking aftermath of her death, hiding the truth from our parents and saving them the burden. Striking out on this mission to avenge her…

I’ve done it all by myself.

And now…

Now Saint is holding me tightly and telling me I don’t have to be alone anymore. That I can depend on him. That he’ll protect me, no matter what.

Something in me breaks wide open.

“Saint…” I whisper, lifting my face to his, needing to lose myself in his devastating kisses. To feel something other than the grief and rage and fear that are always haunting me.

Needinghim.Like never before.

“Shh, darling, it’s OK,” Saint murmurs, kissing me softly. “I’m here now. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be OK.”

His touch is reverent, slowly moving hair back from my eyes, and kissing me again, featherlight, as if I might break.

But I won’t. Ican’t. I feel like all my defenses are crumbling down, and I don’t know what I might reveal if Saint keeps gazing at me with that heartbreaking tenderness in his eyes.

I’ll say too much.

I’ll ruin everything.

So I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, and kiss him harder. Hungry and aching, needing the relief only he can provide.

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