His words—and the exaggerated golf clap he offered me—shouldn’t have shocked me because I knew him and knew he meant every syllable that tumbled from his lips. Still, I was stunned by his calm and uncanny ability to not give any fucks.
I kind of wished I were able to do that. To not care. But I did. I cared a whole lot.
Someone was dead. And they were dead because of me.
Just like James, a voice deep inside me jeered.
“What did you do with Jon Eric’s body?” I asked on a shaky breath.
Finally, Saint stepped away, sucking a breath through his perfect teeth like I’d said something that inconvenienced him.
“Doesn’t matter.” His tone was hard and final. “It’s taken care of. That’s all you need to know.”
“Saint, please—”
“Hmm. I like when you say that word—please. But it’s not going to happen, Ellis.”
I glowered up at him for a long time, frustration and disappointment flowing through me as I came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to tell me shit.
In that moment, I realized how physically drained I was. I just wanted to go back to my room, hide under my covers, and sleep through the rest of this nightmare of a weekend.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” I whispered, shoving away from the wall and darting around him toward the door. “I’m exhausted, anyway. I’m going home.”
His hand wrapped around my upper arm, and he yanked me back around. I gasped, slamming into his hard chest, where he trapped me by sliding his other arm around my waist.
“Not so fast.” He grinned, a new emotion gleaming in his eyes that shot a chill down my spine. “All this heavy-lifting has made me hungry.”
Before I could process what he meant, he scooped me up into his arms and walked me to the bed. I let out a yelp as he tossed me onto the mattress, then grabbed my ankles to pull me to the edge.
“Saint, what—”
He didn’t say a word, though, as he undid my uniform skirt and yanked it down and off my legs. My underwear followed suit, and it became crystal clear what his intentions were when he dropped to his knees in front of me and trailed his tongue along the inside of my thigh.
Sex. The bastard was thinking about sex after he and his best frenemy hid a body.
“Wait—” I gasped, my fingers locking around a handful of blond hair to hold him back as he moved his head between my legs.
He paused and glanced up at me. “Don’t I deserve a reward for my terrible deeds?”
“Now?” I squeaked. “After—”
“Don’t think of that fucker,” he said savagely. “He’s taken up enough space in your head. The only one you’re allowed to think of is me.”
I considered resisting. I really did, but then he touched me, circling his fingertips over my clit. My entire body pulsed, my shattered nerves becoming foggy.
To my horror, I realized that I wanted this.
I wanted his face buried between my legs and his lips and tongue driving me wild. I wanted to grip his hair tight and grind against him.
Tonight, it wasn’t worth fighting my true desires.
I changed the position of my hand so I was no longer pushing him away but urging him against me.
“Fine,” I hissed, an exasperated edge to my voice even though I was already wet and ready for him. “Fine.”
His grin broadened. My thighs fell wide. And when his lips pressed against my folds, I let out a strangled little cry that left him laughing before his tongue darted out to tease me.
This was good. So good. How was it always so good? His finger swirled around my entrance before he pushed it inside, then slipped a second one in without hesitation. His tongue lapped greedily at my clit as he pumped his fingers in and out. I writhed on his bed, tight desperation forming in my belly.
“I need to come,” I gasped.
“Yeah, I knew you were full of shit,” he murmured between sweeps of his tongue.
Gripping his head in both my hands, I undulated my hips, grinding hard against his face. He exhaled a low hum of approval, yanking his fingers free and licking me from crack to clit as he gripped my thighs in an almost painful hold. I didn’t care, though. All that mattered in that moment was the friction between my legs.
When my climax ripped through me at last, it was a tidal wave that swept over me from head to toe. I spasmed and clenched my thighs around his head, but he didn’t let up, and before I could stop him, he sent me spiraling into another orgasm that made me whimper and buck against his face.
Several moments later, he relented, and I began my descent back down to earth, gasping and panting for air. I was still trembling when he stood and gazed down at me, his chin shiny and a smug expression tugging at his features.
“I’ll never get enough of the way you taste, Ellis,” he said, licking his lips. Bending over me, he pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of my head. “Even if I am starting to question if I’ll be next on your world murder tour.”
I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth. “Get the fuck away from me, Saint.” But I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding down toward the front of his jeans where there was a sizable bulge that told me he wasn’t quite satisfied after all. His eyes followed mine, and he chuckled.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that myself.” He stood and offered me his hand. I took it hesitantly and he pulled me to my feet before yanking me against him again. His lips brush my ear as he murmured, “I’ll be in touch.”
“Don’t bother.”
“And don’t forget your place.”
My heart raced as he let me go, and I stumbled around to collect my clothes, pulling my skirt on quickly, knowing I needed to get out of his presence before I did something I’d regret.
When I moved toward the door, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, and I tensed, positive he’d changed his mind about sex. “Go stroke your own dick, fucker, because I’m done.”
“I’m walking you back,” he said.
I glanced back at him and shook my head. “No, I—”
“I’ll walk you back,” he repeated, his voice hard, like there was no room for argument, so I didn’t bother.
Even with Jon Eric definitely gone, it wasn’t like I felt safe walking across campus alone right now anyway. For all I knew, Ghost was hiding behind a building, ready to toss another body in my path.
So, I silently nodded and accepted Saint’s escort, and we left his room together in total, heavy silence.
I shook my head to banish the memory, but my sex is already alive and throbbing after thinking of what Saint did to me just hours ago.
Still, I’m not eager to see him again anytime soon. He did, after all, dispose of a dead body for me, and I’m just not ready to deal with that fact. I don’t bother to wonder why he did it, though. I think I’m making peace with the fact that I’ll never understand Saint.
Not really.
Returning my attention to the task at hand, I continue ripping through my room like a hurricane. Clothes are strewn across the floor, and any furniture not nailed down is upended or sitting at weird, inconvenient angles. I glance up at the ceiling, but it’s solid. No weird chalky tiles to hide things in.