Chapter Forty One Borrowed Peace
Chapter Forty One
Borrowed Peace
T
he crowd starts too thin, the ranch lights dimming into a warm glow that bleeds across the open field. The party softens—but the tension doesn’t go anywhere.
I can feel Cairo’s eyes on me, heavy and unrelenting. Every time I brush past him, his hand finds me—my hip, the curve of my waist, the small of my back. Quietly claiming what he can’t wait to have.
The music dips into something slower, smoother, and Arina drifts off with King toward the porch, their silhouettes melting into the shadows.
I turn to Cairo, close enough to breathe in the liquor and smoke clinging to him. My lips graze his ear, and in a low whisper, I say, “Come spend the night with me.”
His whole body comes alive, sage eyes darkening fast before that wicked grin breaks across his face.
Saint.
I swear he does this shit on purpose, tracking every move I make. I feel him before I see him—his presence always hitting me first. Leaning on the porch, the amber light catching the hard edge of his jaw. Just watching. Reading me like he owns the translation.
Our eyes finally lock, the energy between us turning electric—and not the good kind. The kind you stay away from because you know it’ll burn you if you get too close.
His jaw clenches, lips pressed into a line that’s not quite anger but nowhere near forgiveness. His cheek tightens, a humorless breath slipping out of him as he turns away, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he just seen.
He may have looked away, but the tension in the way he moves gives him away instantly. And from the look on his face, I know he’s not about to let me walk away without saying what’s on his mind.
I barely take two steps away Cairo before I hear the crunching of gravel approaching me.
Each one landing heavy enough to make the air shift.
When I look up, Saint's already towering in front of me, his drink fuller then the one I saw a second ago.
His caramel eyes meet mine, sharp and weary all at once, a storm brewing behind them.
“What’d you say to him?” he mutters, voice rough, whiskey lacing every breath he exhales. “To have him smiling like that out of nowhere?”
I blink, caught off guard—but he doesn’t stop. His jaw flexing, chest rising as he swallows hard, eyes flicking down for a moment before meeting mine again.
“Because I thought…” His voice stumbles, rough with something he’s trying to swallow. “I thought I’d be the one you wanted to go home with tonight.”
His words knock something loose in my chest. With us, it’s always been push and pull—but this feels real.
He’s never shown me anything past the surface before tonight.
A part of me thought it was just him running game.
I know he said I was different when we were under the tree, but guys always magically say the right thing before their about to get in your pants.
But maybe I was wrong about him.
Maybe I actually am more than just a fuck to him.
He looks away, jaw still tight, like he wishes he could take it back. I reach out before he can move, my fingers resting over his flushed cheek. “Saint …” I say softly, his name catching somewhere between apology and temptation.
His reluctant eyes turn back to mine.
“Saint,” I repeat, pulling his gaze back to mine. “Don’t do that. Don’t think for a second I don’t want you.”
His eyes search mine, the muscle in his jaw twitching, like he doesn’t quite believe me but a part of him needs to. “Tonight, doesn’t change that,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. “You matter more to me than you realize.”
The sadness in his eyes stays, but it dulls—tempered by something in my voice. For a second, I swear he’s going to kiss me. His gaze dips to my lips, and I feel the pull deep in my chest… but he only nods, giving me a small, broken smile that hurts worse than if he’d walked away pissed.
“Be careful with him,” he murmurs. Then he turns, the crunch of his boots fading as he disappears to the car.
Behind me Arina has her arms looped around King’s neck, whispering something that makes him smile.
Cairo steps up beside me, his hand sliding into mine. “You ready to get out of here baby girl?”
I look toward the car Saint walked off to, his broken smile lingering in my mind longer than it should. I squeeze Cairo’s hand, and force a smirk. “Yeah,” I reply cooly. “Let’s go.”
? ? ?
The hum of the engine fills the silence, heavy enough to make every breath feel too loud. Saint’s at the wheel, his jaw tight, eyes locked on the road like it’s the only thing keeping him together. He hasn’t even look at me once.
Cairo sits beside me in the backseat, his hand glued to my thigh.
His thumb moves in slow, lazy strokes, making my skin prickle.
Across from us, Arina’s tucked into her corner, her phone lighting up as she texts King in the passenger seat—probably something filthy, judging by the way he’s trying to hide his phone.
I’m sure Saint told King to sit in the front. He’s pissed, and he’s not exactly hiding it. A part of me feels guilty… but come on. He can’t get mad at Cairo for being greedy when he already had me and still thought he’d be the one coming home with me. How’s that fair?
Sharing is caring—and if anyone should know anything about that, it’s them.
It’s been a long night. Between that bull flipping my ass and Saint wearing me out under that damn tree, I’m running on fumes. All I want now is to crawl into bed and melt into Cairo’s arms.
But first—I need to wash Saint’s scent off of me. I may have slut tendencies, but I’m not trifling.
There’s a difference.
When we finally pull up to the house, Arina’s the first one through the door. She kicks off her boots with a sigh, tossing me a sly grin over her shoulder. “My uncle’s out this weekend, so y’all have fun,” she teases, already heading for her room. “ I gotta be up early for work anyway.”
I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, right,” I mutter under my breath. We both know damn well she’s not sleeping—she’s gonna be up all night talking dirty to King. She ain’t fooling nobody but Cairo.
I laugh again as she slips down the hall, her door clicking shut, and suddenly it’s just me and Cairo…and a whole lot of quiet. His arms slide around my waist instantly, pulling me close as we make our way fully into the house.
I start showing him around—the living room, the kitchen, little things—but he’s not paying attention. His focus stays locked on me the whole time. Every few steps, his hand grip tighter at my ass, until the tour feels pointless. It’s clear he’s not here to admire out mediocre décor.
Our place isn’t huge—a Motel 6 compared to Saint’s cousin’s house—but it’s ours.
And at our age, that means everything. An entire house we can call our own, filled with laughter, secrets, and late-night talks that always go too deep.
It isn’t perfect, but it’s home. And right now, with Cairo’s hands sliding over me, it feels like the only place I want to be.
? ? ?
By the time we reach my room, that grin of his has grown feral. He pauses in my doorway, taking in all the little pieces of me scattered everywhere. “Hmmm, looks exactly how I pictured it,” he says, voice dipping deeper.
I raise a brow. “You pictured my room?”
“Hell yeah. Been picturing you in it too.” His smile hungry and unapologetic.
I shake out my hair, letting everything from being in the grass fall out my hair as I toe off my boots. “You’ll have to wait on that fantasy. I’m taking a shower first.”
His grin sharpens. “Then I’ll be right here… tryin’ real hard not to follow you in.”
I shoot him a playful side-eye as I start toward the bathroom. “You wish, cowboy.”
He chuckles—low, rough. “I do,” he says simply, his voice sliding over me like honey. “And I don’t mind proving it.”
I pause in the doorway, hand on the frame, steam already curling out behind me. For a second I pretend to think about it, biting back a smile. Then I look meet his bright green eyes.
“Well,” I murmur, letting my tone drop just enough to pull him forward, “maybe I do need a little help after all.” The grin that spreads across his face is all the answer I need before he follows me, closing the door behind us.
I move to the cabinet and pull out a towel, but before I can set it on the bathroom counter, Cairo’s chest brushes my shoulder. His hand slides over mine, rough fingers grazing my skin. “We can share yours.”
I turn my head slightly, lips curving. “Oh, yeah? You plan on sharing?”
He chuckles. “Guess you’ll have to find out, baby girl,” he says, tone dark and teasing. “But I don’t mind getting you wet first.” His hand drifts down, fingers tracing along the side of my hip as he whispers, “Then we can dry off together. The closer, the better.”
Steam fogs the mirror, heat and condensation filling the room.
Cairo peels his shirt off, and my breath stutters.
Tattoos snake across his arms, the ink gleaming under the low bathroom light.
Every shift of muscle pulls my eyes with it—his shoulders and abs flexing.
Yeah… the gym is absolutely his second home.
He tosses the shirt aside, his eyes dragging over me like he already knows what I’m thinking. The air’s thick with steam, but the real heat stands right in front of me.
“Don’t stop now,” he says, unbothered. “You said yes—so enjoy the show.”
My eyes trace his full sleeve—smoke rendered in ink so real it seems to drift off his skin, skulls layered through it in different sizes, each one carved with enough detail to look alive as they wrap around his arm.
I take him in without hesitation, letting my gaze sweep over every inch of him as the space between us fades.
His grin has deepens, his gaze tracks every move as I tug at the knot in my tank, the fabric loosening before slipping free. I toss it onto the counter, heat prickling my skin under the weight of his stare.