When she meets my eyes, I nearly choke. I could stare into those brown pools for the rest of my life and die a happy man. Grabbing a blanket out of the dryer, I drape it around her shoulders, pulling it tight across the front. My fingers glance her throat, and rather than pulling them away I stroke them along her jawline, feeling the softness of her skin. A little mewl escapes her lips at the contact, but she doesn’t flinch from it. Instead, her head almost imperceptibly leans in closer, nuzzling my fingers.
“Thank you, Saint,” she says softly. “Sorry I got you involved in all this.”
“You didn’t. I would have stepped in for anyone but especially for you. I’ll always protect you, Amara, you need to believe that.” I take a seat beside her on the couch, trying to keep the emotions I’m feeling out of my voice. The thought that anything might have happened to her horrifies me, and I don’t want her to hear how worried I am. I might not be a violent person, but I would have killed those men if she hadn’t needed me to get her away from there. “Can you tell me why you didn’t want me to call an ambulance?”
Her eyes go wide. “Please don’t.”
“I won’t. But why not?”
“You don’t understand who my father is. He has people working for him everywhere, he’d find out where I was. The hospital isn’t a safe place.”
I laugh, but fall silent when she gives me a serious look. “Who is he?”
She shakes her head. “It’s better if you don’t know. Safer. For you, I mean.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Not from him.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I mutter, then take a deep breath. “If he’s that dangerous, why don’t you go to the police?”
“He owns the police, too. I’m safer on my own, not drawing too much attention to myself. That’s what I’ve been doing, I’ve taken precautions. I’m not sure how they found me.”
“Well, for tonight nobody is going to find you. You can stay here. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch,” I add when I see the shock in her face. “I can be a gentleman.” Though I’d rather not, my mind adds.
She shakes her head. “You’ve done enough already. More than enough. I should never have gotten you into this, it’s my problem not yours.” Her head turns away and her shoulders sink, and I hate to see her like that.
Reaching out, I take her chin in my hand and turn her head back so that she’s facing me, tipping it up to look into those dark eyes. The thought that this is how she’d look, gazing up at me from her knees, flashes across my mind. “Your problems are my problems,” I tell her.
“Why? You don’t owe me anything. You don’t even know me.”
I shake my head. “No. But I’d like to.”
Chapter 4 – Amara
My heart is thundering as I stare into Saint’s blue-gray eyes, his nearly jet black hair mussed from the fight and his shirt still bloodstained. I believe him. I know I shouldn’t, what do I know about this man? Apart from that he just saved my freedom, possibly my life. And the fact that he makes me feel weak just being in his presence. And the way my panties are sticky with liquid as I squeeze my legs together, trying to hide them from him.
But I believe him.
I believe that he will always protect me. I believe that he wants to share my problems. I believe that he’s actually capable of standing up to my father, something few men are able to boast.
The way he’s gripping my chin is possessive, the way he’s staring into my eyes is intoxicating. My mind can barely focus on anything except the reaction in every cell of my body. “I’d like to know you too,” I whisper, and impossibly my hand moves on its own, trailing along his thigh until I find…
Oh, God.
The front of his pants are hard as a solid brick wall. I’ve only ever seen a penis in an illustration in a science book once, but it didn’t look anything like Saint’s cock feels. He feels enormous, and a part of my mind wonders how it would ever fit inside a woman’s body. It’s not like I haven’t touched myself between my legs, but my fingers are hardly any sort of match for the monster behind his jogging pants. That question, however, will have to wait, because his lips crash against mine in an instant, his body pressing me back on the couch as I struggle to keep hold of his cock.
“Fuck, Amara, that feels good,” he moans as I cup him, squeezing gently, listening to the way his breathing changes with every movement of my hand. His own hand trails down between us, sliding under the waistband of my leggings, and I whimper as his fingers find my panties. “You’re so wet. All for me.”