Manwhore +1

Ohgod, he’s making me so wet. I shove him away and back away a little with a mock-frown. “Rumor has it it’s like that all the time when any lady’s around.”

He starts after me. “I’m a hungry man. I won’t apologize for my appetite.”

“And you used to like a buffet?” I hop on my bed and avoid him when he reaches out to grab me.

His eyes twinkle, his teeth white against his tan. “Why not? If I’m hungry.”

“Do you still crave it?” I hop back down and keep backing around my room, while Saint, Saint continues calmly coming after me.

“That hunger of yours is so big maybe nothing will ever satisfy it,” I continue taunting.

“Maybe.” He catches me in a swift move, pulls me close, and he leans to my ear, voice dropping, “I still think you wear my shirt better than I do,” he says huskily.

I moan and press closer. “Saint.” Fuck me right now. On the bed, the floor, and against the wall.

He playfully, and oh-so-wickedly, pops open one button and runs the knuckles of his fist inside to caress the skin between my collarbones.

“I want you,” I whisper, giddy and gooey inside. “See, I’m ambitious too.”

His voice is pure husky. “Good, aim high. Always. I like my girls greedy.”

“Plural! You’re such a piece of work.” I shove at his hard chest playfully and back away again with a mock frown.

“And you like me anyway.” He keeps coming forward, and I swear the smile he’s wearing right now is about as hormone-wrecking as his hard-on is.

“I’m aiming . . . high . . . it’s just that I’m trying to put a name to us and it frustrates me not to have one.”

What am I, exactly, to you? I want to ask, but Saint pops open another button, and whispers, “Only you would want a word. But there’s no word for this.”

He grabs a little bit of loose hair from my nape as he tilts my head up so he can kiss me. And . . . kiss me.

Our lips collide, his firming over mine, making me soften as his tongue dips into my mouth and a spiral of heat swirls in my stomach. I start pulling him by the shoulders as we kiss, backing us eagerly to the bed.

The backs of my knees hit the mattress and I end up sitting there, then lying there, and he leans over me, his mouth still slowly, powerfully moving over mine. The heat of his slow and thorough kiss burns me to ash.

I trap back a moan and look up at him dazedly as he sits down next to me and holds me to his chest with one arm. I start kissing his neck and jaw and sit here in a pile of lust, feeling his hand run down my side to stroke up the side of my bare leg.

“So we’re clear then,” he murmurs against my mouth, delivering one of his most demanding looks.

I lick my lips and nod.

He shoves his tongue into my mouth again. Leaning over me, he’s all raw manpower. Dominant and possessive, unapologetic, he circles my tongue with his. Pressing, circling, stroking, stoking my fire, the space between our upper bodies nonexistent. He caresses my side with his hand, moving it up to the little triangle of skin he revealed under my throat.

I grab his jaw to speed up the kiss. But he won’t have it.

“Easy. Let me savor you,” he quietly coaxes as he slows down, prolonging it for us as he sips from me like a wineglass.

The fabric of his shirt I’ve been wearing is so flimsy compared to the hard substance of Saint’s chest against mine.

I hear the air-conditioning, the noises of the city. Feel my soft bed beneath me as his mouth roams over my neck. The weight of his upper body on mine makes me sigh. The smooth skin of our chests rubbing. The wet warmth of his mouth on my skin. My fingertips digging into the back of his head. The hard wall of his chest to my breasts. Smell the scent of his neck. Hear our breathing. I’m breathless and still, he caresses me with his fingers between my collarbones.

We lie there quietly, looking at each other before he sweeps in for another kiss.

He turns his head then and gives me another pile of long lazy kisses. “Are you going to keep your promise to me, Rachel?” Kiss.

“Hmm . . .” Lazy kissing from me to him. “Yes, Sin.”

“Good girl . . .” More lazy kissing, then he rolls around and gets up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” I sit up in confusion, pushing my hair out of my face.

“I have to go. I have something important pending at my place.” He heads to the door.

“You mean you’re not spending the night?”

He stops to turn, then lifts one dark eyebrow. Then the other.

And then, I see the twinkle appear in his eyes.

He comes back to me.

Leaning down, he buttons up the button he unbuttoned, his handsome face sober now.

He cups my breast over his shirt as he opens up his mouth and dips his head for one last taste of me. He sucks my bottom lip gently, then does the same with the top lip, then he dives into my mouth, which gets a delicious little tongue fuck before he sets one soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. He touches my body like it’s his and I’m starting to worry. God, I’m addicted.

But then he whispers, “Not here, little one.”

“Why?”

“Your friend’s here. And I want you to make noise.” He looks at me meaningfully.

“I’ll see you soon?” he husks out, easing back and once again heading for the door.

He’s leaving.

I watch him grab my doorknob.

“I planned to hit the Cubs game next weekend. I have a mind to take you there.”

“Cubs game?” I nearly leap off the bed. “Yes! ”

His eyes glimmer. Those naughty lips of his tug upward.

I blush when I wonder if it’s because he knows how I feel about him. “I’m excited because I’ve never been to a live game.”

His eyes glint. “Of course.”

I know he knows I’m excited to go with him.

I want to say I love you but before I get the courage, he’s gone. And I lie in bed, wondering about us.

The next morning, I tell Gina a little bit about the fight and how he said some bone-melting things to me and I ask her if she thinks Saint loves me.

She gives me a you’re-shitting-me look.

I reply with a no-I’m-not-shitting-you look.

“You’re kidding?”

“I never kid about Saint, Gina.”

She shoves her spoon back into her plate. “I wouldn’t know, Rache. What I do know is that he makes you vulnerable and you’re putting up walls.”