Chapter Forty Four My Turn #2
His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I do want you,” I add, voice steadier this time. “You actually see me. And that means more everything to me. I’ve never felt so bad for wanting two people at the same time.”
The hardness in his expression cracks just enough for relief to flicker across his face.
“So, you’ll give me a chance?” he asks, eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I whisper, nodding. “I promise I’ll make a decision soon, sexy. Just give me some time.”
For the first time since the conversation started, his mouth curves into a real smile. He kisses me again, but softer this time, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmurs against my lips. “Just don’t play with me, Jainey. I’m not Cairo. I’m not in this just to fuck you and have fun.”
His thumb brushes along my jaw. “When I say I want you, I mean it. I’m not looking for a temporary fix or someone to pass the time with. I want a lifetime with you. Even if you can only give me a part of you right now, I’ll take it.”
“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. “Not just your body… all of you.”
My arms tighten around his neck as I kiss him back, letting myself melt into the warmth he’s offering.
With Cairo, it’s fire—reckless and consuming, the kind of heat that dares me to step closer just to see how badly it can burn. Saint, though, is an anchor, solid and unyielding, drawing me into a world I didn’t think I deserved to belong to.
But sitting there in his arms, I know I can’t keep running from the choice forever.
His fingers trace lazy strokes on my thigh, that sends a flush of heat rushing to the slickness between my legs. “You know… I’d love to see what everyone else got the pleasure of seeing tonight.”
I laugh softly, leaning into him. “You really want me to dance for you?”
“Hell yeah,” he says, grinning, “you know I do.”
“I’m too tired, but soon I promise.” I kick one foot lightly against the floor and raise a brow at him. “I can stay in my heels a little longer for you, but dance? My feet don’t love you like I do.”
He chuckles, kissing the side of my head before pulling back. “Fair enough.” He stretches, running a hand over his hair before heading toward the kitchen. “You hungry?”
I follow him, a small part of me relieved he didn’t say the L-word—like I wouldn’t have known what to do if he had. I really need to stop letting that word fall out of my mouth so easily around them.
“Depends.” I say, tightening my robe around me. “You know how to cook?”
He glances over his shoulder with a half-grin. “A little bit. I ain’t no chef, but I can whip something up for you pretty.”
I bite my lip, thinking it over, before blurting, “Make me an omelet.”
He stops mid-step, eyebrows shooting up. “An omelet? It’s almost midnight?”
I fold my arms, smirking. “Yep. A Denver omelet.”
He shakes his head like I’m impossible, but the grin never leaves his face. “Alright pretty, you got it.”
I perch on a stool at the counter, chin in my hand, and watch him move around his spotless kitchen. He pulls ingredients from the fridge, moving effortlessly from pan to pan. I don’t care what he says—he’s absolutely giving chef energy.
And damn, he looks good doing it.
Muscles flexing with every reach, his chain catching the light as he stirs. My stomach growls, and it’s not just from hunger. I can’t even remember the last time I watched a man cook for me. With Saint, even something this simple feels special—letting me see a version of him no one else gets.
A few minutes later, he plates the omelet and walks it over, setting it down in front of me. “Denver, just like you asked,” he says with a playful grin. “Now, if it’s bad, just lie to me. My ego can’t take another hit tonight.”
I shake my head and take my first bite. The savory, rich warmth hits my tongue and my eyes widen. “This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful, half-laughing. “And not just because I haven’t eaten since morning.”
He leans against the counter across from me, arms folded, grinning. “Told you I could whip something up. You just didn’t believe me.”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “You sure did surprise me.”
He nods once, his caramel eyes softening. “Good. I like surprising you.”
I finish the last bite and wipe my mouth with the napkin he slides across the counter.
“Come on pretty,” he says quietly. “You look like you could use some rest.”
Without another word, he leads me toward the stairs. The sound of my heels on the steps echoing as we climb, his hand firmly around mine. He pushes open the door to his bedroom, and I can’t help but take it all in.
An enormous flatscreen TV hangs neatly on the wall opposite the bed, angled perfectly for late-night movies. I can already imagine all the at-home dates we could have.
To the left, double doors open into a walk-in closet big enough for five people, rows of shoes and neatly hung clothes visible from where I stand.
Two abstract black-and-white paintings hang side by side above the dresser, their brushstrokes bold and messy against the gold trimming of it all. The details too precise not to notice.
A tall black floor lamp stands in the corner, casting a warm glow, while a low shelf beneath the TV holds framed photos of him with the other two sexy-ass brothers at graduation, a speaker, and a neatly stacked pile of books.
Everything about this place screams him.
The gray comforter is perfectly smoothed over, and the way he eases me down onto it makes it feel like it’s been waiting for me all along.
His body hovers over mine, hand sliding up the slit of my robe until the silk parts completely, exposing my lingerie underneath.
His eyes darken, mesmerizing every detail.
“Damn,” he breathes, a hint of a growl beneath it. “Remind me to take you lingerie shopping.”
Before I can say anything, his tongue moves against mine, setting the pace, telling me without words that the club isn’t where I’m ending the night.
Walking away is not something my body is considering right now.
I loop my arms around his neck and drawing him in closer. The cool edge of his chain brushes my collarbone as tongue explores mine, memorizing each movement. His fingers find my straps, slipping them down my shoulder, then the other, until my breasts slip free.
His thumb slides over the swell of my nipple before leaning down to kiss my piercing. “This… this body right here, is all mine,” he whispers against my skin.
The robe falls open wider, his lips trailing from my neck down to the center of my chest, lingering at every curve.
His mouth closes over my nipple and my breathing slips.
My hand finds the back of his head, his waves soft under my fingers.
My body arches into him, his lips trailing lower, hands anchoring me to the bed as the air between us turns heavy.
His touch is slower than Cairo’s, more deliberate, like every move is meant to claim a reaction, not territory.
I sink into his rhythm. No stage lights, no crowd, no pretending. Just me, him, and the cool bed that holds us as he presses into me, deepening everything we’ve been circling from the moment I stepped through his door.
His weight settles over me, the comforter rustling beneath us. His hand slides down my side, rough palm against soft skin, until his fingers hook the lace at my hips. He tugs slowly, easing the lingerie lower, his caramel delights never leaving mine.
“I whisper, “Saint…” his name catching in my throat.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to smirk. “I told you—I want all of you. I’m not rushing this.”
His hands push my lingerie and robe the rest of the way down, leaving me in nothing but the heels he begged me to keep on. He stands at the edge of the bed, admiring the view. His sweatpants hang dangerously low, the outline of his hard cock straining.
I prop myself on my elbows, teasing him. “Fuck me.”
Grinning, he shoves his sweats down, his thick cock throbbing, as he climbs back over me.
His mouth crashes into mine, with a gentleness under it that makes my heart race.
His fingers slip into my hair, tugging lightly, while his other hand cups my jaw as he deepens the kiss, crowding my hips with his.
His tongue strokes mine slow—tasting, learning, until I’m chasing him.
He groans into my mouth, pushing his heavy cock inside me.
He settles into me, the moment stealing every thought.
He slides inside me, each unhurried thrust staking a claim he has no intention of giving up.
His hand slips under my thigh, lifting me higher until the heel of my shoe presses into his back, pulling me closer.
“You feel that? No one else is touching you like this. No one ca make you feel the way I do. I don’t care who thinks they’ve got you—you’re mine.” He says between thrusts.
“You’ll remember this every second I’m not with you. Every time you think, every time you breathe—you’ll think of me. And no one, is taking you away from me.”
I brace myself against him, fingers gripping tight, my nails pressing into his shoulders. His chain jumps against his skin with every powerful thrust. Sweat coats my face, my makeup is probably ruined but I don’t care—I need to come.
My pussy clenches, lava flowing through my veins. “Please, Saint,” I beg.
He fucks me harder, pushing in deep, grinding his hips inside me as the heat builds past the point of no return. It isn’t fire like Cairo—it’s something deeper. Something that roots me in place, making me feel whole even as the world breaks open around me.
I’m so close to the edge that when he pushes into me hard one last time, it sends me over the edge. My pussy throbs from how good he feels, how big he is, and most of all the way he made love to me.
I can’t remember the last time I was made love to. I’m not even sure I ever have been. There was a time I thought Jacob and Levy made love to me—but I’ve thankfully grown out of that delusion.