Saint: A BWWM Romance Novel (The Corbett Billionaire Brothers)

by Imani King

  “But?” Saint’s tone is anticipatory, like he’s not sure what excuse I might come up with to take back what I said on my text. But my body is already on fire with need for him, my head swimming with all of the romantic ideas and notions I pushed down for so long.

  “But nothing. That’s what I’d like. But I’d like to keep my apartment for now. And we should wait to tell Trixie… Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m not good at this kind of thing.” The moment it comes out of my mouth, I know it’s true. I’m not good at this kind of thing. I’ve been good at everything else in my life—learning languages, working with students, making straight As, and following every rule. I’ve even scored top marks when it comes to motherhood, or at least I’d give myself solid grades in most categories. But with emotions running wild like this, there are no rules to follow. Instead of checking off a list, I’m standing in front of a man, taking a gamble I’m not fully ready for because it’s clear to me there’s absolutely no other option.

  “I’m not sure I’m good at this kind of thing either, Helena.” He kisses me again, and my body melts into his. “But I’d like to be. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. I know you’re probably going back and forth. And that’s okay. You can decide in your own time. And we can talk.”

  “In the morning, maybe?” I look to him for an answer, but he just brushes aside one of my curls and tucks it behind my hear, sending tingles down my back. I can’t help it—heat pools between my legs, and a rush of wetness comes to my sex, even with that one touch. Saint trails the fingers of his hand up over my belly, through the thin fabric of my dress and cups my breast gently.

  “In the morning,” he says. “Whenever you want.” He rolls one nipple between his fingers, and a small whimper escapes my lips.

  “This is a grown-up thing, this thing between us? Isn’t it?” The words sound uncertain when they come out of my mouth, like I’m asking for reassurance.

  “Most grown up thing I’ve ever done,” he says.

  “Okay.” I pause and lick my lips, my breath coming in short pants. I know I came here to discuss something important with him, to plan what comes next. But when he’s so close to me like this, there’s nothing that seems more important than him. His body, his mind, all the things he’s thinking about me, and what we can do together. “You’re just so... you just make my brain not work quite right.”

  He chuckles, and I feel him pressing into me. His cock is hard and hot against my thigh. “You too, woman. I barely know what day it is anymore.”

  I can’t help but laugh and give in to him. His lips travel over my cheek and down my neck, and before I know it, my black dress is coming off over my head and it falls into a pile on the floor along with my bra. I close my eyes and melt into him. He kisses me and nibbles my flesh, his tongue finding its way down to my collarbone. Finding the hollow of my neck, he licks me there, and I moan with longing.

  We should be talking instead, I think to myself. But instead, my lips part, and my eyelids flutter. His lips trail down to my breasts, and he pushes me against the smooth stone wall of his office. I can feel the warmth of his body against me, his knee pushing between my thighs, heat pooling in my sex.

  “Tomorrow morning, we’ll make all the plans we need. But right now...” His voice trails off. I feel the vibrations of his voice against my flesh, and I want him, him over everything. His thumbs hook into the waistband of my panties, and he pulls them down over my thighs. The cool air in the room rushes against my sex, and I take my breath in sharply. “But for now,” he continues. “We have plenty of time to relieve some of our other needs.”

  Suddenly, I find myself fumbling with the button of his jeans, my hands finding the hard hotness of his cock and stroking it through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

  “I just want you. I want you now.” My mouth waters, and I sink to my knees before him, pulling down his jeans and revealing his massive cock. I hear a deep moan from the pit of his chest, feel his fingers lingering over my hair. He doesn’t protest when I take him in my hands and start stroking him, my lips hungry for his taste.

  I lower my mouth to his tip, licking away a salty bead of precum and then encasing him, taking him as slowly as I can, a centimeter at a time until he’s groaning and tangling his fingers in my hair. My tongue moves over his shaft, and I take him into my mouth again.

  “Stop, baby,” he moans. “I need you now.”

  A force takes over my body at the sound of his words. There’s an undeniable pull to this man, to the fierce, hard outline of his muscles, the brute strength of his hands. I moan against him, and he pulls me to standing. He pulls his shirt off over his head and then picks me up from the floor, carrying me to his bedroom and throwing me down onto the cloud-like white coverlet on his bed. It’s soft against my skin. Along the way, he’s stepped out of his jeans, and he’s standing before me, skin bare, muscles taut, cock hard. He’s stroking himself in an increasingly speedy rhythm.

  My mind fills with lust, clouding my thoughts like I’m swimming through deep water. The center of my body tightens, arousal tightening inside of me like a coil. He yanks me from the bed and wraps my legs around his waist, pulling me down on top of him. Without restraint, he slips inside of me. He brings me to the base of his cock and pulls my body into his. I moan, long and loud, my body moving against his in some kind of primal rhythm. Every motion drives him deeper, pulls me closer. Frenzied, needy, I ride him with my arms around his neck, pushing my most sensitive button against the base of his cock and whimpering as the heat builds deep inside of me. All at once, the coil tightens to its breaking point, and fire floods every cell in my body.

  I lean into him and let go all at once, the orgasm crashing through my veins and filling every cell of my body with complete contentment. “I love you,” I say, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can consider their true meaning.

  In response, he sighs, brushing my hair back over my shoulder. He rolls over on top of me, pinning my hands and thrusting hard into me, riding the waves of my orgasm like it’s his own. I whimper, body aching, but I come again, legs shaking.

  The muscles in his abdomen tense, and he moans, angling his hips, thrusting hard into me one last time. His cock pulses, and he fills me with his essence. Aftershocks roll through me, waves of pleasure.

  Later, when he sleeps, I wonder if he even heard me. I wonder if I even said it at all, or if I meant it if the words actually came out of my mouth.

  I close my eyes and clear my mind.

  It must have been that he didn’t hear me. He surely would have said it back, with all the things he’s promised.

  I’ll choose when I say it again, and this time, I’ll be thinking about it for real.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I love you.

  Her words echo in my head. She’s in the shower now, getting ready to go back to her apartment, nearly two hours away. Getting ready to go back to her life she maintains in a separate city, to a daughter whose life I desperately want to be a part of. She didn’t say anything when she woke up, just went to the shower and turned it up high so that steam filled the room and I could barely see her when I looked.

  I love you.

  She said it before I did. Before I could even decide if we were there, before I decided if I could say it back. Hell, I’m still deciding.

  I don’t think a woman has said to me before—well, a few may have said it, but it was probably under the influence of a day on the yacht, several whiskeys, and a stay at the Four Seasons presidential suite. And those women were gone just as soon as the others. They knew what I was, and the knew they were in for a good time.

  But this woman, she’s been coming around for two months, if we count that awkward month where neither of us had any idea what we were doing. And I told her in not so many words that I wanted her to move in, that I wanted this family—or at least I implied it. And I do, by God, do I ever want that woman. I might not have said it, but I love that little girl, maybe more tha
n anything I’ve ever known. I loved her as soon as I laid eyes on her, as soon as I saw her twirling across the floor. And Helena?

  Something in that woman makes me feel like I’m the strongest, smartest, most excellent man in the world… And I know for a fact I’m not.

  Something with that woman when I hold her… it makes my chest clench tight and the heat travel to every place in my body. Like I want her and I want to protect her, to keep her safe, to make sure she’s happy, now and always. Is that love?

  She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.

  And she told me she loves me.

  This careful, nearly obsessive, finicky woman told me she loved me.

  The last man she said that to left her, stole from her, and broke her daughter’s heart. And only later, I learned, he hit her too.

  The love I’ve been given before has been light and carefree—given during wild one-night stands, by women who make this sort of thing a habit until they find their own ways and locate the man who’s finally more to them. I was never that man. And their love—or affection, or lust, or whatever it was—was always fleeting.

  But this woman has given me something heavy, something far more important and worthwhile than the one night stands and summer flings that have occupied my adult life.

  There’s more to it, too.

  There’s more than just Helena. There’s Trixie, and the role I might take on in her life. One I wasn’t prepared for, one I never even thought about.

  Father, Dad. Soccer games, school plays, and sitting on the sofa watching Disney movies. Hell, we live in California. That means Disneyland. And the San Diego Zoo. And maybe I’d better buy a house up north of San Francisco too, so we can take her to the Lost Coast to see the black rock beaches and the redwood trees every summer.

  Yosemite—I don’t think I’ve ever been. My private jet usually lands in Cabo or somewhere else where there are bathing beauties all season long—not in family vacation spots.

  Though, I should take those girls to see Maui too, when the whales come and jump straight out of the water.

  If they move in like I suggested—did I suggest that—that’s what my life will be. I barreled into this like the brute I am. And I kept pushing on her and pushing on her, and here she is.

  But if I think about it—really think about it—she’s got the right idea. This is all of what I want, everything I want.

  I smile and close my eyes, thinking of the good things, pushing away the anxiety that Helena’s words brought up.

  Yes, those words are heavy. But they’re the pathway to a different life, maybe a better one than I’ve ever had. I think of Nicholas and the kids he adopted, how he said that they made his life more complete than anything else ever had. Maybe that could be my life too. Maybe that’s where I’m headed.

  The shower turns off, and Helena walks out, pulling one of her pink shower caps off. Her curls cascade down and bounce along the tops of her shoulders. She pulls one of my robes around her, but she won’t meet my eyes when she walks into the room.

  I’m supposed to say it back, aren’t I?

  When Helena walks toward me, she smiles. “Celia says Trixie wants me to pick her up a little early, so I think we should talk another time.” There’s nothing hidden in her voice, nothing that makes me think she’s wondering about what I should have said. But she’s not staying, not like I planned. Not like she came here for. Instead, she continues working her hair and walking around like she’s oblivious to the thing I left unsaid.

  I should say it. I can’t say it. I don’t know how to say it. And all this time, I sold her so hard on starting a life with me. I want that. I still want that—but I can’t so those words to her if they’re not what I mean.

  “I think that—I think that might be best.”

  Helena smiles weakly. Even though she kept it out of her voice, there’s a hint of something in her face—confusion, disappointment—or perhaps a combination of the two. Before I can think, I’m pulling on my own clothes, and I’m avoiding looking at her beautiful face. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but somehow, I can’t manage it. This is the one woman I’ve ever considered loving, the one woman I might want to spend the rest of my life with. But something makes me stop cold today, and I don’t know what it is.

  “Bring Trixie tonight,” I say. We’ll make a day of it tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” says Helena, nodding. She’s slipping into the sexy black bra and panties she wore last night, looking as gorgeous as she ever has, maybe even more so in this early morning light. “We can work out a few dates to all see each other in the next month or so—”

  “That’s not what we were talking about before, Hel.”

  “Maybe that’s a better way, rather than rushing into things. Who knows?” She shrugs and pulls on her black dress, staying by the mirror to put on her makeup and arrange her curls.

  “Okay then,” I say, because I don’t quite know what else to say.

  “Okay,” she says. She looks back at me and smiles.

  When I walk out into the office, I slump down on the white couch Stacy got for me. I know what I can do to fix this, but the whole concept does something to me I can’t describe. It scares me.

  But as soon as she walks through that door, I’ll say it. I’ll make up for all the useless bullshit circling in my brain, and I’ll give her the life she wants—the life I need.

  A ring of the phone breaks me from my reverie. When I answer I hear Stacy’s voice—even though it’s Saturday morning, she’s here, working. I grin wryly.

  “What’s going on out there, Stace?”

  “I’m in the downstairs office, Saint. That girl—the one from before you met Helena—the doorman just sent her up. She’s pissed—and maybe drunk. I’m walking down to the front to give that man a piece of my mind. But I saw Helena’s car in the garage—and I just thought you should know—”

  The girl? What girl? The Hawaiian girl? Kalani—was that her name? Or was it Kamala?

  I hang up the phone and launch myself off the couch. I need to find Helena first before she finds me in the midst of the thing that terrifies her most. But by the time I make it to the door, it’s too late. At the same time I hear Helena’s footprints tapping away against the reclaimed hardwood floor, there’s a rumble at the double doors that lead into my office. I’m praying that they’ll get stuck—but of course, I have no such luck. Instead, the door opens wide at the same time as Helena steps into the room behind me.

  Kalani’s long, beautiful body makes me remember her all at once. She’s dressed like she just came from a nightclub, wearing a sparkly turquoise tube dress that I may or may not have gotten for her during our brief affair. Helena might not notice, but Kalani is still inebriated from the night before—as a professional playboy, I can definitely tell. And there’s a spark of something quite unfriendly in her eye.

  “Who is this?” Kalani gestures with her silver clutch at Helena and totters slightly on her heels. “Your latest conquest?”

  “Kalani—”

  “You actually remember my name.” She snorts when she says it, like she’s somewhat surprised. “Is she the one you talked about the last time you saw me? The boring one with all the rules?”

  Shit. I must have run into Kalani again when Helena was still taking me to that taco place every weekend in Santa Barbara.

  “That’s not what I—that’s definitely not what I said—”

  “I’d better get going,” Helena whispers. The words are barely sighs, but they ring in my ears like sirens. I search my mind for what I did say when I made my last appearance at Hyde. I was already taken with Hel, even then, but she had frustrated me on every one of those getting-to-know you dates.

  “Wait, Hel. I didn’t say that—”

  Helena looks between me and Kalani. Slowly, she brings her cool fingers to my arm, sending a shock through me. “Look, sure. I believe you. I think I do.” She smiles, and something about all of her smiles this morning make me deep
ly, deeply sad. “But Saint—call me when this is sorted out. This makes me think maybe you’re not ready for all of this.”

  Kalani steps closer and nearly whacks me with her clutch. Even though the doorman and my security guard are coming through the doors at that very moment and cautiously walking Kalani back out to the lobby, Helena takes her hand away and walks toward the elevator doors.

  I said that this woman tried her damnedest to be boring and follow every single rule. That’s what I said. But she was far from boring, and I was done with women like Kalani.

  My heart drops even as I remember those words. Even if every bit of it was true, I wasn’t kind to Kalani. I wasn’t the man I was meant to be, the man Helena helped me become.

  “Helena, no. Please. Listen—”

  She turns to me. “Just sort yourself out, Saint. I’m here, ready for you. I made that decision this morning, and I’m a woman who sticks by that decision.” A world of hurt seems to wash over her face all at once. “But it seems like you have some conflicting opinions on what I mean to you. When you figure all that out, come find me.”

  I step toward her, but she steps back. When I open my mouth to speak she raises a hand to stop me. She turns away, shoulders slightly slumped. She says something before the elevator doors open, but I can’t quite make it out.

  It sounded like, “I just need a little time.”

  I sit down on the couch, defeated, wondering exactly where I should go from here.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I don’t think I can do this, Celia.” She looks at me with her feet kicked up on my coffee table, and I walk past her and put her feet down to continue pacing in my apartment. “I’m the only one who gets to ruin my coffee table with my heels,” I add.

  She kicks her shoes off and puts her feet back up on the table, laughing. “Trixie painted my toenails orange. They need to dry.” She watches me as I pace, my hands flying around nervously.