29. Chapter 29 #2
"He wants to visit," I say. "I stalled. I told him to give us a warning as we're pretty busy."
"That's true. We are. Things will only get more intense as we get closer to the final game, and with your show on the table as well…"
"I wouldn't want him walking in on us having sex on the couch, you know."
I steal a glance at him. His mouth tilts in a smile.
"As long as I get to fuck you on the couch," he says.
I laugh. "I don't want my brother walking in on me! Or us— ever."
"But do I get to fuck you on the sofa? What about the kitchen island? "
I fake a shocked gasp. "Do you really mean the kitchen island?"
I'm smiling again as I put a few arepas to cook. Like we're talking about what movie we might watch tonight. He continues to work, almost done with the masa, and shaping the last couple pieces of cornmeal bread.
"What I'm hearing is yes on the sofa." A beatific look takes over his face. "And that I'll have to seduce you to let me do things here."
He caresses the stone like it's a cushion and he's inviting me on it.
I hold back a chuckle. "I'm serious. We need to talk about this. What would happen if he shows up out of the blue?"
"I'm serious too." Still, there's no tension visible on him. He puts the last of the arepas on the tray, and washes his hands and the metal bowl in which I prepared the masa. "Pablo doesn't have keys to my place. We'll be fine."
"Okay— fine. But do we even want him to know about last night and the next— little while— whenever this ends? Or do we wait until after so we can pretend nothing happened?"
He studies me closely. "What do you want?"
He leans on the kitchen island, arms crossed now, waiting for my answer. I set up a steel pan to warm up as well, to finish preparing our breakfast.
I shake my head.
"You know, when we met," I say, "Pablo told me you don't do relationships."
"He warned you off me?" His voice is knowing, with a sad despondency to it. "I can see why."
I gaze up at him. "He told me he just didn't want us to get hurt."
"It's funny." There's no humor in his voice. "He talked to me, too. He told me that if I wanted to keep dating the way I do that was all good. But to not try to date you, if I was going to treat you like everyone else. That it would hurt you, because it's not what you want."
He frowns, dimples nowhere in sight.
"You've never hidden what you do." I keep my eyes on him. "This is temporary. I know. Short and fun is what I'm looking for. "
"Right. Yeah. Well…"
He doesn't look as relieved as I expected.
"It's like we said last night," I say. "You can teach me. I need what you know. Ending things nice and early. And I trust you. I can't imagine anyone better. With you… after last night… I don't think I'll lose myself. You won't let me. You're amazing like that."
Wherever this adventure with Saint leads us, I need it to help me break my patterns. I don't want it to be another time I throw myself at a relationship, as if I can make it into my happily ever after with the strength of my will.
"I'm not as good as you think." He frowns. "But I will never ask you to be someone you're not."
I take a step closer to him. "Saint… this— you— I think you're who I need right now.
We can make sure we keep things good for both of us.
So go ahead and be with me like you are with your dates.
I won't be offended. Flirt with me but keep me at a distance if that's what you do.
Sex me up until I forget how I used to date.
Bake me a pie when we're done so we can laugh about it and be close afterwards.
I don't want to lose the friends I'm making thanks to the past couple of months and— and I don't want to lose you. "
Saint places a hand on my face. His thumb caresses my cheek. "I don't want to lose you either."
"We can do this. In two or three weeks… maybe right before or right after the end of the season. We can come out of this with a handshake and pie. Maybe we'll share it to celebrate."
"Are you really asking for pie?"
"Yes. I want to learn from you. I want the whole Saint experience.
" I take another step. "Fu-dating, remember?
Bake and Bye included. Especially once you start to really feel the need to start dating like you used to.
Just give me a small warning. I really don't want to get in your way and I don't want anything that feels like cheating either—"
Aidan's to blame for that thought as well.
The way Saint turns into a statue next to me, I forget about it in the next instant.
"I don't cheat." He stares at me with hardened eyes. "Ever. I may date quickly, but even if they're seeing other people, I only see one person at a time."
Cold, controlled irritation exudes off him. It leaves me motionless for a second. I watch him closely, rearranging a few things in my brain, making room for this new piece of information.
"I never meant to imply otherwise." I put a hand on his chest. "I'm sorry."
His heart beats fast. Rather than worry over his anger, or feel guilty for my words, his reaction turns to reassurance. It helps, that he responds this way to the idea of cheating.
"If this is what we're doing," he says. "If this is what you need, I'll be who you need.
It's what I offered last night. Just tell me there won't be other men.
No other practicing. We will do this and we will do it right.
You and I, in a daze of feeling where no one else exists.
High on sex and proximity. On smiles and touch.
See me for who I am and I'll do the same for you, until we learn who we need to be. "
"Yes." I try for a smile. "Exactly. I didn't think you and I would do something like this. This… I want to enjoy this. Enjoy you ."
For as long as it makes sense. For as long as he lets me.
When I first came to Saint's condo and he made me chocolate with cheese, we talked about three months before we knew if he'd get to stay and if I'd get to save my business. Now three months living together can mark the end of this short relationship, too. Give or take.
His chest works in long, deep swells. His eyes never leave mine.
I wait, letting him work through whatever weighs in his mind.
"All right." A corner of his lips curls. "I said I would be your rebound. I said I'd teach you to walk away from relationships when they're not right for you. If that's what you need, I'll be true to my word. That way no one gets hurt. Clear expectations."
I smile. "I knew you'd be reliable like that. "
"Sure. Let's call it that."
"What would you call it?"
"We may need to discover that together, too." He kisses me.
"Well, now you have me curious. What else could it be?"
"Not altruism, in any case. I'm getting fresh arepas from the deal." He grabs handfuls of my ass. "And the most delicious dough I've ever had within my reach."
I chortle. "Okay, Casanova."
"Hey. Don't undervalue the power of this ass."
"Who says I am?"
"Because no other ass has the power to make me walk away from homemade, just-cooked arepas."
One of his hands remains anchored to my butt, while the other turns off the stove.
"Excuse me?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I'd rather break my fast by eating your pussy right now, is all."
"Wow. Okay."
"Right here."
Without warning, he lifts me to sit on the kitchen island.
"Woah! Saint—"
He kneels. "And I'm pretty sure that, later, you're going to let me sex you up on the couch, too."
"Oh, yeah?"
He nibbles on me through my underwear. Shivers run down my spine. My nipples harden to pinpoints through my tanktop, too.
"And later than that, when my new bed arrives—" he adds.
"You got that new bed?"
"Ordered before coming out of your room. When it gets here—" he uses a finger to move the patch of fabric covering me to the side— "We'll have an inaugural ride on my new mattress. You said I need to sex you up until you forget about everyone else. I'll fuck you until you forget your own name. "
"Is that what I said?"
He licks me. "It's what I heard."
My breath hiccups.
"Will there—" I try. "That is— the arepas will get dry and cold. I promised I would… feed you…"
"You are." He licks me again. Caresses my thighs. "Something tells me I can live on your orgasms alone."
I moan. "Saint…"
I'm still processing the words, overtaken by the fire in his eyes, when he stares at me and dips his tongue between my labia.
"Rule number five, Amelia. Everything else can wait."
And he shows me just what he means, by eating me out on the kitchen island until I forget my name, too.