Chapter 14
Lake
Saint asked to pick me up, but I wanted to surprise him, so when he pulls into his driveway and doesn’t notice me at first, I can tell something is bothering him. The scowl on his face would be terrifying for anyone else, and it still makes me nervous, but I know he’d never hurt me.
Convincing Nolan to bring me here had been harder than anticipated, which was why I didn’t ask my dad; he’d have stuck around.
If Saint doesn’t want me to stay now, I don’t really have a way home, but I stick to my spot on the steps, tucked into the corner of the railing, waiting silently as he pulls grocery bags from the back seat and begins walking towards the house.
“Lake, why are you sitting on the step?”
I guess he wasn’t as unaware as I thought.
“You looked pensive. I didn’t want to get in the way.”
He scoffs and narrows his gaze before setting down the bags and squeezing in tight next to me.
With a gentle finger on my chin, he turns my head to face him, asking, “Have I not been clear enough with you?”
My eyebrows crease in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“My life revolves around you, sweet haven, and only you.” Leaning closer, our lips touch, and he lingers while stating, “For now.”
That’s even more confusing until I register the heat in his stare. This Saint, the one who reveals so many sides to himself, is everything I ever wanted. He’s never been this open about his needs and desires, not until the cabin in Indiana.
“You mean children…?” My whisper is like a scream because the world around us goes silent in the intense moment.
“If you ever want them.” His correction steals my breath.
“You’re so quick to base decisions on what I might want; what about what you want, Saint?” He frowns as if it never occurred to him. Maybe it hasn’t.
“My needs are pretty fucking simple…” He pauses, waiting for me to clue in, but I don’t. “The only thing in the world I need is you, Lake. That’s it, and I’ll die a happy man.”
“Me.” Repeating the word doesn’t make it any easier to understand. “What if I’m not enough?” Because how can I be?
He doesn’t answer me; instead, he grips my hand, grabs the bags, and leads me inside after unlocking the door. I follow along to the kitchen, the aromas making my stomach grumble and my mouth water for a taste.
Garlic, oregano, pasta sauce, and rich butter.
“Whatever that is, it smells amazing.” Our eyes meet as Saint places the bags on the counter and moves to a crockpot by the stove that I missed.
Lifting the lid, he stirs, then brings the spoon over to offer me a taste.
After blowing on it, I open for him, and he puts the tip into my mouth.
My eyes close as flavor explodes on my tongue. “God, that’s good.”
The murky green in his eyes deepens, and his face softens.
It pleases him that I enjoy the fruits of his labor.
Seeing Saint’s happiness is unlike anyone else.
It’s not an outward display with a smile, but more so, the way he watches me, the way he relaxes slightly, and doesn’t appear poised for battle.
“I was going to make those garlic knots you like and brownies for dessert. Do you want to help?”
Shocked doesn’t begin to cover how I feel.
“You bake?” Making cookies is the extent of my baking knowledge. Though helping Mom is something I’ve done most of my life.
“I learned.” He’s sheepish, and the tips of his ears tinge red with embarrassment.
“I’d love to, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with the garlic knots.” He grins and starts unpacking the groceries. Seeing the boxed brownies, I grab that and read the instructions. “I could do this while you do the knots?” I offer instead. It seems simple enough.
“Bowls are here, fridge is there, and utensils are in the drawer next to the stove.” He points everything out for me as he bends down, opens a cupboard door in the island, and slides out a stand mixer attached to a movable shelf.
“Whoa,” I chuckle. “You mean business.”
“Mom had a lot of the design input when I redid the kitchen after buying the place. I was skeptical of this at first, but I like the convenience.”
Watching Saint work around his kitchen, a peacefulness overtakes him that he likely doesn’t realize is so evident.
“You like to cook and bake?” I’ve known the man my entire life, yet it’s like we just met and are learning everything there is to know about one another.
“When it means nourishing you, yes.” He pierces me with such a fervent, possessive stare that my breath catches.
Unsure how to respond, I continue watching Saint as he mixes the dough before taking it out to knead it by hand.
His big, strong, masculine hands, which have held me tight through many storms, have brought me pleasure when I thought I’d never experience it.
Hands that have killed men and tortured others.
That’s when it hits me. The reason he appeared so pissed when he pulled in. “You saw one of them today, didn’t you?”
His hands pause briefly before he grunts an affirmation and kneads harder, almost tearing the dough into irreparable dust. Fisting the counter, he doesn’t meet my eyes as he says, “I wanted to kill him. To rip his fucking head off his body and glory in the spray of his spurting blood. I wanted to terrorize the mother he was with because she fucking knew, too.” His head lifts slightly to find me staring at him, unable to breathe or blink.
“I wanted them to know a thousand times more pain than you did.”
“Why didn’t you?” Saint has been the most self-restrained man I’ve ever known, but he can also be impulsive and struggle with his rage at times.
“Because there were witnesses. Cameras. It would have meant leaving you, and I won’t fucking do that. Not again.” A twisted smile crosses his lips as he says, “Besides, now he can tell the rest, and they can shit their pants waiting to see my face and wondering when I’ll be coming for them.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Saint.”
He growls, slamming a fist into the dough, and I swear something cracked, but I’m not sure if it was his hand or the marble counter.
“I never have to do anything, but this is something I crave as deeply as connecting our souls. They don’t get to get away with hurting the most valuable and important person in my life, and think they get to carry on with their own.
They sealed their fates, Lake, not you. Never you. ”
Before I know it, my cheeks are wet with tears I didn’t realize had begun to stream down. Saint is on me in a flash, wiping them away and clasping my face in his hands as he presses a sweet kiss to my head.
“Nobody has ever loved me like you do,” I whisper into his chest, rubbing my face against his body like I’m marking him as mine. “Nobody ever could.”
“No, they won’t. I won’t allow anyone else to.” It’s a vicious vow, like he’s imagining someone trying to, and he’s killing them.
Reaching up, I pull his head down for a kiss that transitions from sweet touches and caresses to losing ourselves in each other in a flash. His hands skim up and down my body, lifting my shirt for him to feel my skin, warming me up from the inside out.
His lips glide across my jaw and down the line of my throat, sucking and nipping as he goes. “Saint,” I pant. “Saint.”
He growls but releases me. I love his control when it comes to me. I can’t wait to see what he does when I ask him to stop holding back.
“Sorry.” He nuzzles his nose into the curve of my neck. “I want to devour you, but I need you to want it as well.”
“I do.” Reassuring him helps ease my anxiety. “I want to be with you, but I’m so afraid of freezing up and never being able to give myself to you completely.”
He brushes his fingers through my hair, and we both ignore the traces of flour and dough that’ll need to be washed out later, when he replies, “Even if all we ever do for the rest of our lives is kiss, that will always be good enough for me.”