Well, for a moment, at least.
“Just leave me alone, Saint,” I shot back, feeling a flurry of emotions that I wasn’t fully committed to handling right now. I grabbed my bedroom door and flung it open, attempting to close it quickly afterwards. Of course, he not only caught it but slammed it back open, offering a soft chuckle at what had been a somewhat sad attempt at exercising my frustration.
A squeak came from my throat as I was suddenly tugged around the waist and dropped onto the bed, his predatory gaze flashing with a dangerous light as he pinned my body to the bed. I struggled against him, pushing on his chest as his smirk grew, something flashing under his skin that almost looked like lightning and should have had me worrying.
Instead, I was just getting turned on, which was not okay right now. At all. I was angry at him. Maybe not angry, but frustrated and over this shit. I should have guessed that the danger he posed was so much more than I could have ever imagined.
“You know I can’t do that, flower,” he growled, his hand smoothing up my waist and over my breast to wrap around my neck. A small moan broke from my throat as heat exploded between my legs, my nipples tightening as my fingers dug into his skin rather than trying to push him away.
His voice was low as he dipped his head. “That’s now how any of this works, Arabella. I won’t ever leave you alone, even if you beg.” His entire mannerism was dangerously soft and untrustworthy, a velvet tone to his voice that almost sounded like a purr. This was the truly dangerous side of Saint, because how he said something didn’t matter nearly as much as what he said. I knew that despite his persuasive, almost seductive tone, he was one hundred percent serious about never leaving me alone.
It didn’t change my frustration with him… but it was hot.
“You lied to me.” My breath caught as his other hand gripped my waist, his fingers tightening on my throat, not enough to hurt but very firm.
“No I didn’t.” Saint’s lips pressed into a smile as if amused, his body dropping against mine, his hard length pressed between us. I attempted to press my thighs together, needing some relief from the ever-growing need. I growled as his knee separated my legs, a devious flash filling his gaze as I refocused on his words.
“If you had ever asked me, ‘Saint, what or who are you?’ I would have told you.”
Such a liar… maybe. I actually could see that being the truth. Didn’t I say you have to be exact with the man?
“How about when I first met you?” I demanded, not even touching on the all-important ‘mate’ aspect that Eve brought to my attention, something that was more important to me than his ridiculously overpowered self. Also, could we talk about the fact that Saint had a sister?!
My fingers brushed up his neck and twined in his hair, pulling a bit so that he let out a low growl. Our frames were completely pressed against one another, nothing separating us anymore.
“You asked for my name.” His expression turned calculating. “I told you.”
“You omitted the important part,” I said firmly. “And what’s this about your sister saying we are mates? Is that true?”
I couldn’t help but pray that it was. I knew he had said yes, but fuck—I needed confirmation, because it sounded far more serious than I would have imagined.
His eyes flashed with what almost looked like pleasure. “Yes, you are my mate, Arabella. But how exactly should I have told you that without scaring the living hell out of you? Should I have just looked into your pretty eyes and told you ‘Hey, you’re Death’s fated mate’? Is that what you would have preferred, flower?”
Well, when you put it that way… absolutely.
“Yes,” I said with complete confidence. “Or are you also afraid of the same shit as everyone else?”
He chuckled, a deep, dangerous sound, as his eyes flashed with mirth. “The only thing I am afraid of is not fucking you.”
I swallowed, ignoring the jolt that his harsh, crude words sent right to my center. “The others are.”
“The others have no concept of what you are.”
What?
“What are you talking about?” I whispered.
Saint’s gaze flashed down to my lips as he seemed to snap to a decision. One that I was completely on board for.
I had imagined kissing Saint far too many times to count, along with a lot less innocent of actions… but the way he kissed me was something my own imagination could never have conjured. There was an almost eager yet hesitant edge to it, filled with hot tension but caution that encouraged me to meet him fully.
Was he concerned I wouldn’t want to kiss him? That I would pull away? Saint was overwhelmingly confident, so his hesitancy surprised me, convincing me to prove how much I wanted him. My entire body suddenly broke into shivers, sparking as if an electric current was being shot directly through me. It washed away any sense of being annoyed with him, and the more I deepened the kiss, the harder his grip became on me.
A whimper broke from my lips as something seemed to grow between us, a needy sensation working its way across my skin as every nerve ending seemed to pulse. A wave of desperate need washed through my body as my hips pressed against his hard, unfortunately covered, cock.
I tightened my fingers in his hair, nipping at his bottom lip as he tried to pull away from the kiss.
“Saint,” I moaned on a breathy voice as his lips began to move down the column of my neck, his fingers easily tearing the translucent top that I’d been wearing, the material fluttering to the bed. I would have complained, but his fingers were suddenly sliding over my skin, and I worried if I said anything he would stop. I jumped as I felt his lips trail across my stomach, my jeans being unbuttoned and slid off with an expert ease. I felt like the man was taking his time with this, so much so that it was driving me insane, making me grow wetter and more needy by the moment.
I shivered as his power began to wrap around me, the electric nature of it causing my focus to blur as my pulse began to turn erratic and almost uneven. Holy hell, the man was just undressing me, and I felt like I was on the verge of coming.
“Please.”
Apparently, my ‘please’ wasn’t acceptable, because the word had barely left my mouth before I was crying out, a sharp nip to my neck making me realize that he had discarded his shirt and was once again over me, watching with a predatorial intensity. I felt trapped, and I absolutely loved it.
“I’m going to take as long as I fucking like, Arabella,” he growled, my full name rolling off his lips. He began to place delicate kisses along my jaw, the contrasting energy making my head spin. “I have been thinking about undressing your hot little body nonstop for fucking years now. Do not rush me.”
The command in his voice was clear enough that I nodded, whimpering as he rocked against me, his hard erection pressed against my wet lace panties. I jumped as he suddenly tugged down the corset top I was wearing, exposing my breasts to the cool air.
“Fuck, you are so perfect,” he groaned, his hot mouth coming over my painfully peaked nipple, his tongue and teeth making me feel as though I was going to come from this alone. My breathing was in a near pant, and my legs opened fully so that I could feel as much of him as possible. I was pretty damn sure I was trembling, this teasingly hot pace making me feel almost high.