by Bijou Hunter
Harlow stared at me for a long time without me knowing what she was thinking. Reading her proved difficult unless she was pissed.
“How long did it take before your parents got you out?”
“They didn’t get me out. The guy in charge of the prison got on the wrong side of someone and ended up in a mass grave. I stayed in the prison for eight months.”
“How did…?” she didn’t finish. “If I’m supposed to understand what you’re hinting, I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“I killed a man in prison. His friends came for me later and I killed two of them. The new guy in charge of the prison decided I was worth more alive. I had natural talents, he said. I could gain my freedom if I was willing to kill for him. By then, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go home anyway. I felt lost, but killing assholes gave me purpose. Eventually, I faked my death during a job and walked away from working for that guy. I tried being normal, but it felt wrong so I returned to being Saint. After awhile, I hooked up with Arlo in Memphis who needed someone dead without it looking like a murder. He needed finesse and I can do that. Anyone can go in hard and sloppy. Soft and precise takes skill and I evolved into the sort of man with that talent.”
Harlow’s eyes hid nothing. She pitied me. I was damaged like her and she wanted to heal my pain. In a way, she had helped me by sharing my bed the night before. I’d awaken next to Harlow feeling at peace in a way few things did anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said because she couldn’t say what was really on her mind.
“Now that you know I really was a saint before Mexico, tell me what you were like before the Devils.”
Harlow’s vulnerable expression darkened. She didn’t want to talk about ugly stuff, but I’d shared and needed her to do the same. Taking a mask off was something I only did with my parents. No one else saw the real me, but I’d torn one off for Harlow.
“I thought I was tough,” she said, poking at her sweet and sour pork. “When my dad died, I stayed strong for my mom and siblings. When mom got hooked on drugs to deal with how much she missed dad, I stayed strong for my brother and sister. When we ended up with Aunt Ashley and Playboy, I acted like I had everything under control. Then Playboy killed my family and I had no one to be strong for anymore. I was broken and scared of everything for a long time. Eventually, I played the strong chick again to help Winnie feel safe. Now, she’s married and strong on her own.”
“You’re strong for yourself now.”
Harlow gave me a weak smile. “I don’t know that I evolved enough when things got tough,” she muttered then sighed. “Maybe I’m still faking it like when I was a kid.”
Leaning back in my chair, I studied Harlow’s lost expression. She wasn’t wrong about faking it, but I refused to pile on when she was already feeling down.
“After the food settles, let’s work out.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, eating her rice.
“If you work out hard enough, you can’t think of anything except the aches in your body and how tired you feel. All you’ll want to do is sleep. Sometimes when my brain clings to the past, I’ll work out until I can barely stand.”
“That’ll teach you.”
Grinning, I ran a finger over her hand resting on the table. “If faking is your only option, I’ll help you sell it.”
Harlow held my gaze and forced a smile. She looked so fragile. What kind of monster was I to dump my secrets and demons into her already troubled life? An honorable man would walk away, but I had gotten good at being bad and I wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Twenty One ~ Harlow
Settling my sore body into the hot water, I refused to care about Saint shirtless and wet before me. I reminded myself I’d seen plenty of guys in the same state of undress. Hell, Dylan ran around shirtless last weekend and I hadn’t given a crap. My feelings for Saint weren’t any different.
I was full of crap. Saint was different in a million ways. I felt only him when he stood in a crowd. His voice echoed in my head. The night before, I dozed off replaying our time together. Saint was all I thought about and he was sitting across from me in a hot tub - wet, shirtless, and sexy as sin.
We sat for an unknown amount of time before I realized I was staring at him. After blinking a few times, I realized he was staring at me too. His skin looked so warm that I struggled against the urge to go to him. A hot panic flushing across my chest, I ordered my ass to remain seated. I mentally yelled at myself to stop staring at him.
Before I regained control, Saint smirked. “Fear controls your every breath.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Are you lying to me or yourself?”
My fingers tingled with the need to touch him. I was desperate to know what his skin felt like. A taste of his lips. A moment with his arms around me.
No fucking. Nothing even extreme like making out. It was normal to be curious with a man like Saint. He wanted me to be curious too. I saw the amusement in his eyes as he realized his games worked.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Lie.”
“I know you won’t hurt me. It’s not who you are.”
“True, but I still scare you. Do you know why?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because you’re so big and strong?”
“Because I make you fear yourself.” When I rolled my eyes again, Saint only smiled. “I can control myself around you,” he said, stretching his arms across the hot tub wall. “Sitting there wet and barely dressed, you have the same effect on me as you would on any straight man. I am in control though. You aren’t.”
“You think you’re so hot, don’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. You think I’m hot. You want to know what I taste like. You’re the one scooting closer, not me.”
Glancing down, I realized I was sitting at the edge of the seat, no longer against the wall. I had moved closer without thinking. My gaze met his and I expected him to gloat. Saint surprised me once again. His smile was gone. A dark hypnotic gaze took its place.
“Don’t live life afraid,” he said in a slow, tempting voice.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.
“Yes, you do. That’s why you’re shaking.”
He held my gaze for a minute, maybe more. I couldn’t think straight. My body, mind, and heart were on a million pages. All I knew was Saint looked like the answer to my problems.
Lunging for him, I was lucky I didn’t land on his nuts and ruin the mood right there. My knees rested on each side of his strong thighs while my hands gripped his shoulders. I looked into his eyes then stopped. I didn’t know what to do next. Part of me needed to get out of the hot tub and run away. Another stronger part planned to get comfy right where I was.
“Yes or no?” he asked softly.
Still staring into his eyes, I whispered, “Maybe.”
“Close enough.”
I expected wild passion. Between my legs, I felt a man ready for fucking. No way was I ready, but I assumed Saint expected it. As usual, I was wrong about him.
His hands settled on my shoulders as he studied my face. I felt my panic easing, yet my arousal grew. He was less scary up close. More real and less what my mind made him out to be. Hell, he even seemed gentle like a kitty rather than a hungry lion.
Tracing my lips first, his fingers explored my cheeks and forehead. Curious more than aroused, Saint didn’t consume me. He never lost control. By the time his lips grazed mine, I felt entranced by his dark eyes. Saint possessed secrets I’d never know. This idea made me sad in a way it shouldn’t, but I hungered to understand him.
Saint kissed me softly then pulled his lips away before kissing me again. I responded to his kisses with panic, thinking I wasn’t ready. Yet once his lips sucked at my bottom one, I was desperate for more.
His hands cupped my face as the kiss deepened. Even moaning at the taste of his tongue against mine, I yanked away. A moment passed while I studied his face and he waited patiently. Leaning forward, I
pressed my lips against Saint’s and let him lead.
Time falling away, our bodies wrapped together as the kisses grew frantic. I lost myself in the heat of his body. No thoughts remained. No past or future. Just this perfect hot moment with a man I needed to survive.
Suddenly, Saint picked me up and moved me to the other side of the hot tub. He sat back at where he’d been then ran his hands through his hair, wetting the already damp strands.
“Why?” I whispered, confused and overwhelmed.
“I can’t lose control.”
Despite what he said, I felt rejected. Exposed and humiliated. My past came crashing back, causing a sob to rise up in my chest. Desperate to be strong, I strangled the sound.
“Can I sit closer?” I whimpered with my hands in fists. “I can’t lose control either.”
Saint looked at me, wearing his mask of cool indifference. I felt small under his gaze, yet he nodded and patted next to him.
I crawled along the seat and rested a foot from his warm body. Still panicking, I pressed my knees against my chest and struggled to stop shaking.
“When I was locked in a dark prison,” Saint said in a gentle voice, “I would pray to God. Let’s pray now.”
Taking my fisted hand, he closed his eyes. “I’d imagine I was on the top of a mountain where everything is clean and open. I’d breathe in the pristine air and feel closer to God.”
I closed my eyes and pictured myself standing with Saint on the top of the mountain. My panic slowly eased away until I was resting my head against his shoulder. Around us, the water no longer bubbled and the pool area felt too quiet.
“We should go upstairs and clean up before someone ruins our good mood.”
Nodding, I didn’t move. “It’s been a long day.”
Saint caressed my hand under the water then stood in a quick motion. I stood too, though not nearly as quick or smooth. He held out my robe before walking to the door. I followed behind Saint, uncertain if anything I felt was real. Was he tricking me like the girls warned or was I conning myself?
Chapter Twenty Two ~ Saint
Once we reached the apartment, Harlow rushed to the shower. I waited for her while checking the messages on my throwaway phones. I discovered a few possible jobs I’d likely blow off and Mom checking to see if I managed to put a ring on it. I rolled my eyes at her message then waited for the shower to turn off.
The moment Harlow appeared from the bathroom, I knew something was up. I even suspected she might want to leave. Having her hair combed back allowed me to see her face well enough that I knew she was close to breaking into tears.
“I want you to tell me the truth,” she said, standing in front of me.
Her hands were in fists and she lifted her chin defiantly.
“I’ll do my best,” I muttered.
“This thing you’re doing with me, is it really about training me and needing help sleeping? Or is this a game you’re playing with those Memphis guys? Like seeing if you can fuck me. Is this a joke or trick?”
Her expression ripping me apart, I wanted to hold her against me so badly. I felt her life in my hands in a way that I didn’t even with people whose lives could literally end at my discretion. Harlow was on a path with a very distinct fork in the near future. If she faced her fears and asked the right questions about her life, she would end up happy. If she wasn’t strong enough to make the tough calls soon, Harlow might end up bitter to the point of never finding her way free of her past.
“I don’t give a shit about those guys. Hell, I don’t even give a shit about myself some days,” I said, running both hands through my hair. “I give a shit about you though.”
Harlow blinked a few times and I saw the impending tears fade. “I don’t want to be a joke,” she said softly. “But I can see how easy it would be to punk someone like me.”
“A chick with womanly rage issues?”
Grinning grudgingly, she walked to the couch and sat down. “I give a shit about you too.”
I opened my mouth to say something. I wasn’t even sure what exactly, but something that would open a door I wasn’t ready to look inside. Instead, I handed her the TV remote.
“Watch TV while I clean up.”
Looking worn down and even younger than her age, Harlow nodded. She turned on the TV and flipped mindlessly through channels.
Once in the shower, I washed my hair and scrubbed away the feel of Harlow from my skin. My mind replayed the way Harlow tasted and how her hips fit against mine. No matter how much I scrubbed, I failed to cool my desire. Only by closing my eyes and imagining my hand was Harlow’s pussy could I regain any level of control.
I didn’t hurry out to the living room once I finished in the shower. Staring at myself in the mirror, I tried to see the man I was back in Mexico before evil corrupted me. Back then, I was capable of tenderness and patience. I was a good man. Maybe a schmuck, but an honorable man nonetheless.
I wanted to be that man again. No more merely wearing the mask, I wanted to feel clarity in my heart again. To know I could hold Harlow without worrying a moment of weakness might destroy all the light inside her.
With her knees pressed against her chest, Harlow looked young and uncertain on the couch. Her arms wrapped tighter around her legs as she stared blankly at the TV. When I stood next to the couch, her gaze found me and I saw fear. In the barely lit room, I looked like just another man capable of destroying her.
“Thank you for giving me a good first kiss,” she said in a hoarse voice.
As she caressed her lips, my body responded. I sat down next to her and tried to remember the ease I once shared with my high school girlfriend. I needed to forget the dark last decade and focus on the present with Harlow.
“I haven’t kissed a woman like that in years.”
“You did seem a little rusty.”
When I narrowed my eyes, Harlow smiled. A moment passed before she scooted closer to me then focused on the TV.
“Do you think it would be better for you to sleep at your place tonight?” I offered, feeling guilty about the erection I was sporting.
Harlow didn’t even look at me before shaking her head. “I’d spend the entire night thinking about you and wishing I was here. Besides, you’re only in town for a short time. Do you want me to leave?”
Adjusting myself on the couch, I sighed. “Not even a little bit.”
“Can I rest my head against you?”
When I nodded, Harlow cuddled closer and leaned her head against my bare arm. Even though we were both tired, we remained on the couch for a long time, watching TV silently. A part of me accepted Harlow might really be the woman capable of handling me without my masks. Another stronger part knew I still had time to push her out of my life and walk away from this temptation. As we walked to bed and slept without saying a single word, I didn’t know which part of me would win out.
Chapter Twenty Three ~ Harlow
I woke up to find Saint gone from bed. Propping myself up on my elbows, I checked the clock then wondered if Saint left the apartment without me. Today was the first paintball match, so maybe he didn’t want to be viewed as soft by being seen with me.
Flannel pajamas clinging to my sweaty skin, I remembered why flannel and summer didn’t mix. Since Saint hadn’t made an inappropriate move either night, I planned to start wearing something more comfortable.
Sitting up in bed, I was startled when Saint walked soundlessly into the room. He stopped and studied me.
“Your cheeks are red. Are you sick?”
I took in the sight of him shirtless and recalled the way the dark hairs felt against my fingertips when we kissed in the hot tub. My lips remembered the taste of his. If I was flushed before, I was likely beat red after reminiscing about the night before.
“No,” I mumbled, shuffling to the bathroom. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Like a damn baby,” he said, chipper as usual. “Get cleaned up and we’ll have breakfast before heading to the Johansson plac
e.”
“Sounds great.”
I heard Saint chuckling at my morning grumpiness. Shutting the door as he found a shirt to hide what was making me so damn crazy, I needed to wash off my bad mood, sweat, and the uncomfortable need between my legs. I cleaned up and got dressed before walking to the kitchen where Saint waited.
His gaze met mine and I saw something unsettling in those dark eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“You look beautiful in the morning,” he said softly.
Wrapping hair behind my ears, I smiled awkwardly. “Ditto.”
“Do you really not see how beautiful you are? Or do you hope no one else sees it?”
“I know I’m okay to look at,” I said, walking over to him. “You’re right that I don’t want people noticing my appearance.”
Saint leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter. “When you say appearance, do you mean hair and eyes? Or are we talking about your T and A?”
“What do you think?”
Saint stood up and slid closer to me. “I think you have curves in all the right places and it’s not a bad thing for a man to notice them.”
Feeling grumpy again, I shrugged. Saint leaned closer and his lips brushed against my cheek.
“Most men aren’t Playboy,” he whispered then teased my lips with his. “I know I’m not.”
“Two nights sharing the same bed proved you aren’t,” I said, staring into his eyes. “Did you want to touch me?”
Saint stepped back and frowned. “Now, you’re messing with me.”
“Yeah, but you started it.”
Grinning, he took my hand. “Let’s have a quick breakfast before the big game. I can’t wait to shoot someone with a paintball gun. I really hope I get one of those smug rich boys.”
