Chapter 5
Nadia
It’s the change in his breathing that wakes me.
Deeper. Slower. The steady rhythm of someone who let his guard down just enough to drift.
I stay still, tucked against him, listening.
He fell asleep.
At some point, Saint’s arm slipped beneath me. The other curled tight around my waist. My back is fully pressed to his chest, every inch of him solid heat behind me.
He’s wrapped around me like a shield.
God.
I didn’t know I could feel this safe. Not with someone touching me. Not this close.
His chest rises and falls with each breath, slow and even. I can feel the heat of his skin through the blanket, the weight of his arm holding me close. His palm has shifted to rest just under my ribs, fingers relaxed but firm. Protective even in sleep.
And then I feel it.
The subtle shift of his body against mine. The way he’s grown harder behind me.
Not intentional. Not aggressive. Just male biology and close contact.
Still, it hits me deep in my core.
Want.
My thighs squeeze together. I try not to move, but something in me stirs awake, something that’s been locked away too long.
I shift slightly, just enough to turn in his arms.
His breath hitches.
When I glance up, his eyes are open.
And locked on mine.
Neither of us speaks.
I’m not sure who moves first.
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe I’ve already decided.
My hand finds the edge of his jaw, rough with stubble. His gaze tracks every inch of my face like he’s memorizing it. Like maybe he already has.
Then I lean in and kiss him.
His lips meet mine with a tension I can feel everywhere. Heat unfurls fast and low. My fingers curl into his shirt. His hand tightens at my back.
We break the kiss slowly, breath shared, foreheads close.
“You keep playing with fire,” he says, voice gravel rough, “you’re gonna get burned.”
I meet his gaze, steady. “Then I’ll take that risk.”
His jaw flexes. His hand lifts to brush hair back from my face, the motion gentler than I expect from someone built like sin.
“You say that now. But once you’re mine, Nadia…” His voice dips, rougher now. “I don’t let go.”
My breath stutters, but I don’t back down. “If I’m yours… does that mean you’ll order me around?”
Something flashes in his eyes. He lifts his hand to cradle my cheek.
“No,” he says, low and serious. “That’s not who I am. I’ll protect you. Stand between you and anything that tries to hurt you. But I won’t control you. I’ll worship you.”
The words land like a match struck to kindling.
Heat. Light. And something deeper.
“Then I want to be yours,” I whisper.
And when he pulls me in this time, it’s not tentative.
It’s a man claiming what’s his.
His mouth crushes mine again, and this time there’s no holding back. No space. Just heat and possession and the taste of him sinking into my bones.
I feel his hand slide down to my waist, anchoring me closer.
He shifts over me carefully, like he’s afraid I’ll spook.
His weight doesn't scare me.
It grounds me.
I arch into him, chasing more, and he groans low in his throat like it wrecks him to be wanted.
“Nadia,” he murmurs against my skin, his mouth trailing down to the hinge of my jaw, “you need to tell me to stop. Or I won’t.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His hand cradles my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek like I’m something breakable.
His voice drops. “How far have you gone before?”
My heart slams.
I could lie. I could laugh it off or pretend I’ve done more.
But the truth rises before I can stop it. Quiet. Steady.
“I haven’t.”
His breath catches.
Something changes behind his eyes. Something fierce and reverent all at once.
“You’re a virgin,” he says, like it’s sacred.
I nod, throat tight. “Still want me?”
His expression darkens with something primal.
“Want you?” His voice is hoarse. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. But I need you to be sure, Nadia. Not just sure you want me. Sure you want this. Now.”
I look up at him. This man who could crush anyone who came for me, who wraps me in safety like it’s instinct, who holds back every sharp edge just for me, and I’ve never been more sure of anything.
“I trust you,” I say. “I want you.”
His jaw ticks. “Then you’re getting all of me. But remember something. You say stop, I stop.”
I nod, breath shallow.
He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper. Like he’s mapping every part of my mouth, like he’s memorizing the way I taste.
His hand finds my waist, then slides under my shirt. Just his palm, warm and steady against my bare skin, and I shiver.
“Cold?” he murmurs against my lips.
“No.” I tug at the hem of my shirt. “Please.”
He helps me, careful not to rush. When the fabric clears my head, his eyes darken.
His palm returns, this time sliding up my spine, over my ribs, to the band of my bra.
“You sure?” he asks again, voice rough. “You can still stop this, Nadia.”
“I’m sure.”
He nods, then unhooks my bra with one hand like it’s muscle memory. His eyes don’t leave mine when he slides the straps down my shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, like it’s not even up for debate.
I don’t look away. Not when he lowers his head and brushes his mouth across the curve of my breast, not when his tongue circles my nipple in slow swirls. My back arches before I can stop it.
A sound escapes me, low and startled, and he groans like it undoes him.
“Tell me what you like,” he says, mouth still against my skin.
“I don’t know yet,” I whisper.
He grins against my chest. “Then I’ll find out.”
He kisses his way down my belly, his hands on my hips, grounding me when I start to tremble. He makes quick work of my jeans, sliding them down with my underwear in one smooth motion.
Every nerve lights up. I’m bare, beneath him, and his gaze is all over me.
“You’re shaking,” he says.
“I’m not afraid.”
“No,” he agrees, his voice rough. “I think you’re ready.”
He moves down the bed, settles between my thighs, and kisses the inside of one knee. Then higher. Then higher still.
By the time his breath hits my pussy, I’m gasping.
The first press of his mouth is slow. Careful.
He licks gently, and I moan.
“Saint—”
He groans against me like his name in my mouth does something to him.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading me gently. “Like heaven.”
My hips rock up. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.
His tongue moves with purpose now. Teasing. Worshipping.
And when he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right, my world tilts.
My body coils tight, every muscle trembling.
“I’ve got you,” he says, voice low, gravel-thick. “Come for me.”
And I do. Hard. Shattering. Undone in his mouth with a cry that sounds like I’ve been waiting for him my whole life.
When I open my eyes again, he’s above me, shirtless now, his mouth kiss-bruised, his eyes molten.
He reaches for his jeans, pausing only when he sees me watching.
“You’re sure you’re ready to take me?” he asks one last time.
“I’ve never been more sure.”
He undoes his belt, pulls off his jeans and briefs. My breath catches when I see him.
Big. Hard. Thick with desire and restraint.
He kneels between my thighs, not rushing. Running his hands over my hips, my ribs, my jaw.
“Look at me,” he says. “If it hurts, tell me. If you want to stop, say it. You’re in control.”
“I trust you,” I whisper.
He groans and lowers himself, one hand braced beside my head, the other guiding himself to my entrance.
The first press burns a little. My breath catches.
“You okay?” he says, frozen in place.
“Yeah. Just… slow.”
He moves an inch deeper, then stills again.
Kisses my cheek. My jaw. My temple.
By the time he’s fully inside, I’m shaking for a different reason.
“Oh, my god—”
“I know,” he groans. “I know, love.”
He doesn’t move at first. Just stays there, forehead resting against mine, breath ragged.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he rasps. “Tight. Warm. Mine.”
Then he starts to move.
Slow thrusts. Deep. Like he wants me to feel every inch.
And I do. God, I do.
The pressure builds again, faster this time, sharper.
“Saint—” My hands grip his shoulders. Nails digging in. “I’m—”
“I’ve got you,” he says again, and this time it sounds like a promise.
I come around him with a cry I can’t hold back, and he buries his face in my neck with a groan that sounds like surrender.
His rhythm stutters, then stills as he follows me over the edge.
We stay tangled like that for a long moment, breathing hard.
Then he eases out of me, careful. Pulls the blanket over both of us. Gathers me into his chest.
I rest my cheek over his heartbeat, still trying to catch my breath.
He brushes a hand over my hair.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Better than okay.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead.
“You’re mine now,” he murmurs.
“I know.”
“And I’ll worship you every damn day if you let me.”
I smile into his chest. “Then I’m yours.”
He exhales. “Good. Because I wasn’t letting go either way.”