Damaged and the Saint (Damaged #7)

My breath caught at the passion of the kiss. Saint wasn’t a man in lust. His need was something deeper, a starving desire building the longer our bodies were pressed together.

His lips left mine then returned, exploring my mouth, stealing my breath. My hands pushed him away before pulling him closer the very moment he actually backed off. I kept thinking “no” even while wanting all of him.

Saint’s lips found my neck. Loving how his teeth nipped at my flesh, I held him tighter. My hips bucked when he slid between my legs and his erection pressed against the thin fabric of my panties.

“No,” I moaned as my nails dug into his back.

Saint stopped and studied my face. “You need to say something else if you want me to stop,” he whispered, propping up on his knees and studying me from my neck down to my damp panties. “I know you can’t help saying no when you’re scared. I need you to say ‘dreamcatcher’ when you really want me to stop. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I murmured, reaching for him. “I can’t fuck though. I can’t do that.”

My rising panic scared me until Saint kissed my cheek. “I’m going to make you feel good like you did for me last night.”

“No,” I whispered.

“Dreamcatcher will make me stop,” he said, sitting back and taking in the sight of my legs open for him. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the look on your face right now.”

“The look of fear?” I asked, shivering when his hands gripped my knees before they slid lower against my thighs.

“The look of a terrified woman who trusts me.”

Despite my hips arching upwards against my will, I smiled. “I do trust you.”

“I want to explore, so your clothes need to come off,” he said then added when I tensed, “Mine stay on.”

“I think guys can fuck with their clothes on,” I muttered while he ran his fingers over my thighs again.

“Not me. I need to strip down and stretch out.”

Saint lightly scratched at the flesh on my thighs up to my nightgown, pushing the material past my breasts.

“No.”

“I know,” he said, leaning forward and making an approving sound. “I’ve never done this before.”

“What about your birthday?” I said as his fingers slid gently over my nipples as if testing them.

“I pay for me to get off, not to make the escort’s toes to curl. Samantha and I never got past making out. You'll need to endure my clumsy moves. Sorry,” he said without looking sorry at all.

My fear eased as I imagined Saint clumsy. No, not just clumsy, but a scared virgin of sorts. I ended up smiling until he gave one of my nipples a lick.

“Shit,” I gasped.

“I can't tell if you liked that. Let’s try again.”

My mind screamed for him to stop. I couldn't tolerate this kind of arousal. It was too much. I needed him to stop. I knew how to make him stop. I just had to say "dreamcatcher." No way would I utter that word though.

My brain shut down once he kissed my nipple with his wet lips. Breathing in gasps, I might have said Saint’s name. Hell, I might have moaned the National Anthem.

“Now you,” Saint murmured to my other nipple.

Wiggling like a dying fish on the dock, I pushed him away, but he didn’t budge.

Glancing up at me, Saint lifted an eyebrow. “Say the word.”

I stared into his eyes, wanting to cry. “No.”

“I’m not stopping then.”

Saint teased and sucked as my hips bucked then fell limp. His touch felt so good and I hated him for making me lose control.

His lips moved from my nipples to my stomach. Sucking at the flesh around my belly button, Saint slid a finger over the wet slit of my panties.

“No,” I cried, trying to close my legs.

Climbing up over me, Saint leaned down until his lips were an inch from mine.

“Playboy is dead,” he murmured, his dark eyes hypnotizing me. “His shit friends are dead too. You’re alive, Harlow, and you deserve to be happy. You aren’t a little girl anymore. You’re not a victim either. You’re strong and beautiful and you want me to touch you. Am I wrong?”

I shook my head and Saint smiled.

“You like when I touch you,” he said, running a finger over my panties again. “You want to touch me too.”

Smiling, I rested my hands on his shoulders. “I do want to touch you.”

“We’re here together and no one controls us. Mexico and Phoenix are the past. This is now. Are you ready?”

“You promise to keep your clothes on?”

Saint nipped my bottom lip. “I don’t like this apartment building with all these assholes next door and upstairs and downstairs. I can feel them stinking up the world with their bullshit. Your first time won’t be here, but it will be with me.”

I smiled at the possessiveness in his voice. “I trust you.”

Saint gave me a look that said I was full of shit. He was right. I didn’t trust him or me for that matter. I wanted to trust him though, so I relaxed as he slid between my legs. His hot breath on my thighs made me squirm with pleasure. I felt him smiling at my reaction.