He would. Saint would give her the fucking world if he could, but she didn’t need to know how much power she held over him. Not yet.
It was crazy, the way he was reacting to this woman he hadn’t seen in ten entire years. He didn’t even know if she was single. For all he knew, she was married to some rich doctor, but Saint dismissed the thought.
She came to the bar alone tonight. He didn’t see any ring on her finger either. Which meant she was fair game, but only to him. Saint would gladly eliminate any potential rivals along the way.
“Can we talk? Somewhere else?” she asked. “Alone?”
Saint couldn’t help it. He laughed. The annoyed look she flashed him, fuck. That was perfect.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Not many people would want to be alone with me,” he told her point-blank. With Olivia, Saint would never lie.
She swallowed, as if she was second-guessing her decision. Too late for that. Saint wouldn’t allow her to squirm away.
“Then come along. We’ll take my bike and we’ll go somewhere private,” he said.
He offered his hand to her, just like any gentleman would. Olivia took the bait. She clasped his fingers and gasped when he pulled her toward her.
He’d been wanting to do this for ages. Saint thought he could wait, bide his time, but he couldn’t. Her plump lips looked so ripe for the taking. Saint kissed her and the sweet taste of her wrapped around him like a snare.
Chapter Three
Olivia should shove him away, but she found that she couldn’t. The demanding press of his lips sought her submission and she couldn’t help but give in. Saint was all heat and bite, and she craved it.
Despite her earlier reluctance, she found herself responding with equal passion. Olivia gripped his shoulders, refusing to let go. The world narrowed down its scope to just the two of them. How long had she dreamed of this moment when he’d kissed her again?
Except Olivia was no longer the awkward blushing teenager she’d been ten years ago. She gave him a little push, knowing if this went any further, she’d let Saint do whatever he wanted with her. Hell, she’d even beg him for more.
In his arms, she easily fell apart. Olivia always prided herself on being a strong woman, one who didn’t let a man order her around. He gave her some breathing room, his gray eyes searching hers. Whatever this was, it was best they didn’t pursue it.
She knew Saint’s kind. One woman wouldn’t satiate him, let alone drag him down the path of monogamy. If she went down this road, it would only lead her to heartache and misery.
“Where’s your bike?” she asked, still a little breathless.
Olivia disliked the effect he had on her. How he could easily turn her entire world around with a single kiss? Things like this only happened in movies and books, not real life.
“This way, baby.”
“I’m not your baby, so don’t call me that. In fact, I’m not your anything.” She flushed. Snapping at him hadn’t been her intention, but her mind took her back to the past, to his rejection all those years ago.
“Give it time. That’ll change,” he said with an easy arrogance that was so like him.
What was she saying? Saint was practically a stranger to her. They hardly knew anything about each other. She’d only met him all those years ago thanks to Marsha, whose mother was a club whore.
She halted in her footsteps. His restored black Harley looked menacing under the dim lights of the parking lot. Imposing. Yet, at the sight of it, excitement hummed in her veins.
Olivia envisioned herself sitting behind him on that metal monster, her arms wrapped around his big body. Her hair whipping behind her as they cruised the streets of Redemption.
A random passerby could easily mistake her for Saint’s queen, except that would be a lie. Men like Saint didn’t settle down. They rode solo for the rest of their life.
“We’ll see about that,” she said with a huff.
He chuckled, clearly amused by her discomfort. If this was Brett, he’d either smack her for running her mouth on him or beg for her forgiveness. Brett was crazy that way. It had taken her a long time to figure out her ex had two sides to him. The good and bad.
Saint handed her a spare helmet. “Need help putting that on?”
“No thank you.” Olivia fumbled with it for a few moments but managed to set the strap under her chin after three tries. “What about you? No helmet?”
“I like the feel of the wind on my face. Don’t worry. I’m a careful driver.”
“Didn’t you drink tonight?”
Saint held out one finger to her. His smile looked almost boyish under the moonlight. A pretty illusion. She had a feeling a hard man like Saint seldom gave smiles and yet here he was, curving his lips for her. It always seemed like he genuinely liked her.
Liked her? Who was she trying to kid?
Saint was probably used to getting whatever and whoever he wanted, no questions asked. Yet he hadn’t pushed her tonight. He didn’t proposition her or tell her he wanted her body in exchange for her help.
A laugh slipped from her lips. It all sounded absurd in her head. Why would Saint want plain old her when he could have any woman in the world?
He dropped his smile. “What’s wrong? Changed your mind?”
“No. Just wondering why you’d give me the time of the night to listen to my plea.”
His narrowed gray eyes glinted like hard steel. “I always have time for you, Olivia,” he said in an unexpectedly soft and tender voice.
Hearing it unhinged her a little more. She hadn’t gotten on his Harley. Olivia could still back out. Play the chicken. Her father would turn in his grave, knowing the daughter he raised so strictly would willingly ride off into the night with the town’s most notorious criminal.
“Ten years ago, you gave me the impression you didn’t like me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, unbidden.
Why was she seeking a fight with Saint when she clearly needed his help? Still, Olivia had to know. Why had he turned her away all those years ago? Why would he offer her his ear in her greatest moment of peril?
“A man can change in a decade,” he answered, voice harsh. His intense gaze drank her down and Olivia was lost in it for a moment. She shook herself, rubbing the left sleeve of her sweater with her right hand.
“Did you remember your parting words to me?” she asked, because she did.
“I do. I said, ‘Little girls shouldn’t be playing games with adult men,’” he told her flat-out. Another man would’ve flinched or looked guilty. Saint didn’t. He held her gaze and didn’t let go.
Olivia had turned those cruel words over and over in her head during plenty of sleepless nights. Nights she cried herself to sleep like a pathetic child. Growing up in Redemption and only being known as the crazy preacher’s daughter had limited her social circles. She and her dad didn’t talk. The only people she could confide in were Marsha and Saint.
Sometimes, Marsha and she would swing by the clubhouse to pick up Marsha’s mom. He’d always be there, smoking, drinking, and talking with his men. Olivia once ran into his personal office, in tears because her then-boyfriend broke up with her via text message. He didn’t tell her to get out. Saint listened to her and offered her his shoulder to cry on.