Chapter Ten #2
“He’s protective,” I whispered back, still smiling.
Saint kissed the corner of my mouth. “So am I.”
The words landed heavy, not threatening. Just true.
I swallowed. “We should go home,” I said, and my voice sounded rough.
Saint’s eyes darkened. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “We should.”
Back at my place, Salt and Pepper burst inside like they were checking for intruders. Pepper immediately trotted to his water bowl, took three aggressive slurps, then came back to stand between me and Saint like he was supervising.
Salt did a slow circle of the living room, then settled near the couch, head down but eyes open. Always watching.
Saint shut the door behind us and turned the lock, then checked it once more like it was habit.
“You always do that?” I asked quietly.
He shrugged out of his jacket. “Yeah.”
I kicked off my boots and turned toward him, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands.
Saint stepped closer, and the space between us vanished.
His fingers slid into my hair, tugged gently, and tipped my head back as he kissed me again, this time without interruption.
The kiss went straight through me.
“Saint,” I whispered.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark now. “Tell me to stop,” he said.
I shook my head. “Don’t.”
Saint’s jaw flexed, like that single word snapped something loose.
He lifted me then, easy, like my weight didn’t matter, and I made a surprised sound as my legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.
“Bedroom?” he asked against my mouth.
“Yes,” I breathed.
He carried me like it was nothing.
When he set me down on the bed, he didn’t climb on top of me right away. He stayed standing, with his hands on my hips, and looked down at me like he was trying to memorize the sight.
The way his gaze moved made me shiver.
“You’re sure?” he asked again, quieter this time.
I reached for him, and my fingers caught the front of his shirt to pull him closer. “I’m sure.”
Saint exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days.
Then he bent and kissed me again, and the kiss turned hot fast.
His hands slid up my sides, under my sweater, and I arched into his touch without thinking, because my body already knew what it wanted.
Saint groaned softly and broke the kiss just long enough to drag his mouth down my neck, teeth grazing lightly, and I gasped as my hands fisted in his shirt.
“Saint,” I whispered again, but it didn’t sound like his name anymore. It sounded like a plea.
His mouth moved lower, slower, like he wanted to take his time. Like he wanted to undo every ounce of stress I’d been carrying with his hands and his mouth and his steady patience.
He tugged my sweater up, and I lifted my arms so he could pull it off. The cool air kissed my skin for a second before Saint’s hands were back, warm and firm, making me forget about everything except him.
He looked at me like he couldn’t decide whether to touch or just stare.
Then he did both.
Slow, deliberate, like he wasn’t rushing the moment because he wasn’t afraid it would disappear.
My fingers worked at his buttons, clumsy with need, and he helped to pull his shirt off, then leaned back down to kiss me like he couldn’t wait another second.
The bed creaked softly as he climbed over me, bracing his weight on his forearms so I could breathe.
I wrapped my legs around him again, dragged him closer, and Saint made a low sound that went straight between my thighs.
“Belle,” he murmured, like he was warning himself.
I reached up and cupped his jaw. “I want you,” I said, and it came out more honest than anything I’d said all week.
Saint went still for half a heartbeat.
Then his mouth crashed back onto mine, and his hands gripped my hips like he needed leverage to keep control.
Clothes disappeared in pieces after that—pulled off, shoved aside, and forgotten.
Saint moved with a kind of slow purpose that made me feel like I mattered. Like this wasn’t just want—though it was definitely that too—but something deeper. Something that had been building since the first day he’d stepped into Cookie Haven and looked at me like he already knew I would be his.
He kissed me until I forgot my own name.
When he finally pressed close, fitting himself to me like he’d been made for it, I arched up with a shaky breath, and Saint swore under his breath like he was trying not to lose his mind.
“You okay?” he whispered against my mouth.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
Saint took his time, slow, steady, relentless in the best way, like he wasn’t chasing the finish line. Like he wanted the whole experience. Every sound. Every shiver. Every little loss of control.
My nails dug into his shoulders. His mouth stayed on me, kissing, murmuring my name, swallowing every desperate sound I made like he wanted them.
Heat coiled tight and fast, and when it finally snapped, I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me upright. My body trembled beneath him, and Saint stayed with me through it.
Only when I started to come down did he finally let himself go. A low, broken sound against my throat that made my stomach flip all over again.
After, he didn’t roll away. He didn’t leave me empty.
He stayed.
His arm wrapped around me, pulled me close, and held me like I was something he didn’t want to let go of. My heart still raced, but the panic that lived under my ribs was quiet for the first time in weeks.
Salt padded into the room first, nails soft on the floor, and hopped up at the foot of the bed like he was clocking the situation. Pepper followed and immediately tried to climb onto my pillow until I scooted over to make room for him.
“Bums,” I mumbled, half asleep.
Saint chuckled, his breath warm against my hair. “They like me.”
“They like everyone,” I corrected weakly.
Saint’s hand moved over my back, slow and steady. “You should sleep,” he murmured.
“I can’t,” I admitted.
He kissed my temple. “Why?”
Because my brain never stopped. Because I’d spent weeks calculating debts and orders and time and money like it was life or death.
Because even now, with Saint holding me, I couldn’t forget what waited on the other side of Christmas.
I didn’t say any of that.
I just turned my face into his chest and let myself breathe him in.
Saint’s voice was quiet when he spoke again. “You’re coming to Christmas.”
The certainty in his tone made my chest ache.
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Good.”
I closed my eyes and let the warmth of him, the weight of my dogs, and the quiet hum of safety wrap around me.
For tonight, I could pretend the world wasn’t waiting to crush me.
For tonight, I could just be Belle.
And Saint’s arms around me felt like a promise I wasn’t sure I deserved but wanted anyway.