Forever My Saint (All The Pretty Things Trilogy Volume 3) by Monica James

Author:Monica James [James, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-18T22:00:00+00:00

THE DELICIOUS SCENT of coffee rouses me. But when that fragrance is combined with a far more intoxicating smell, I appreciate the fact that Saint will always be far more potent than any drug. Stretching like a lioness lazing in the sun, I slowly open my eyes against the blinding morning light.

However, when I see Saint sitting beside me topless, his beauty rivals the daylight. “Mornin’.” His husky voice evokes images of us being entwined last night.

My cheeks instantly blister.

He offers me a steaming cup of coffee with a smirk. Clutching the blanket to my very naked chest, I sit upright and accept it. Once I take a sip, the fog from my brain clears, and I wonder what the right protocol is for having the morning-after talk.

But honestly, I don’t know if I want to discuss anything. It happened, and I have no regrets. But when Saint clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, I pale. Does he regret it?

“So, about last night…”

Lord, have mercy on me. If he tells me it shouldn’t have happened, I will curl into a ball and cry.

“I was careless. I’m sorry.”

Okay, not the response I was expecting. I scrunch up my nose in confusion. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

When he reads my confusion, he clarifies, “Do we need to go to a pharmacy?”

“Pharmacy? I feel fine. A little sore, yes, but…oh. Oh.” When I realize what he means, I quickly shake my head. “No, it’s okay. All good.” I don’t want to go into detail that I have an IUD, and thankfully, he gets it.

“I should have been more responsible,” he berates himself. But he didn’t twist my arm. We both wanted it. Besides, I wasn’t expecting him to whip out a condom. We are in the middle of nowhere, wearing borrowed clothes.

“Don’t,” I coo, placing my palm to his cheek. He leans into my touch. “It was perfect.”

“I was rough. Are you okay?” His expression turns poignant. But I won’t allow him to think something that isn’t true.

“More than okay,” I reply without pause.

“I just…” His tongue darts out to lick his top lip. “I just lose control with you.”

“And is that such a bad thing?” I tease with a small smile.

My humor has the desired effect. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” I counter.

Saint laughs, which abates all tension between us, and he drags me onto his lap. The blanket pools around me as I press my naked chest to his. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I can’t help but drown in those eyes.

“Thank you for pushing me. I don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t love you. I just needed time to process…everything. But I don’t think I ever will.”

And I don’t blame him. He was tortured and violated—mind, body, and soul—and no one would be expected to return the same.

“I understand, but I’m here for you. Always,” I promise, toying with the strands of hair curling at his nape.

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