Page 88 of Taint My Soul

My thoughts slow to a halt when I see him walking through the crowd with a tray of drinks. Damn, he’s here again. A soft tenderness lodges in my chest.

Tenderness is wrong, yet I hold that fleeting emotion because it makes me feel alive.

I signal the security man to get him for me. My heart slams ferociously against my ribcage, dreading the moment he’ll walk in. The moment he does, my breath hitches. That distinct smell of his cologne envelopes me. Stronger than the smoke and scent of alcohol and sweaty bodies from the strip club. And I savor it. Because I need it. And I beg him to sit with me, to stay by my side even when I know what it’ll cost. Even when I’m fully aware, he’s better off without a man like me.

He returns to his night duty after a while, and I fucking hate it. So even when I leave the club with my brother, I wait behind.

I wait in my car, counting numbers in my head, trying to keep the excitement inside me from bubbling all over the surface.

When he appears out of the building, I get out of the car and lean against the bonnet with a seductive smirk on my lips. Me. Saint Demetrius King. Going to all this length to get him to come home with me.

I’m a goner.

“Come home with me, please, little devil.”

“You are relentless, aren’t you?” His expression lights with amusement as he stops in front of me.

“Want me to kneel again?” I cross my arms and look at him.

“Not here. Not yet.” So he does like it when I’m on my knees for him. He circles my bonnet and unlocks the car door, getting inside. “Come on.” He yells, and I shake my head as I enter the driver’s seat and settle in. I look up at him with a smile, surprised at the way my body relaxes around him. And damn, this is the first time I’ve felt so free in a long time. My eyes are on him even as his cheeks burn. Just now I see how fucking elegant he is, how his eyes light up anytime he’s flustered. And that pretty smile does something intensely forbidden to me. I should run and never look back. But I turn on the engine and slam my legs against the gas, taking us home.

CHAPTER THIRTY

MASON

It was better to stay the night with a man I should avoid than go home to a man who’ll probably try to kill me.

The elevator dings as we enter the apartment together. I drop my backpack by the couch. He takes off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt.

Every nerve in me lights up in flames as my eyes study the flex of his muscles and the dark ink tattoos across his chest. I take him in. Plain of steel muscles he’d gotten from years of hard work at the gym. His eyes lift to me seductively.

Of course, he knows exactly what he’s doing, trying to rile me up.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as he tosses his clothes onto the couch. “I can make you something.”

“You? It’s probably going to be salty.” I shrug and settle down on the couch. He lets out a frustrated groan as he looks down at me.

“You’re always pushing my buttons, little devil.”

“I always will. I enjoy it.” I laugh even when I know I shouldn’t, when I’m aware that being here will get me into a lot of trouble. I gave away information that came really close to ruining his entire family.

“I think you should be thrilled. I’m finally flirting back.”

“Hmm.” He looks at me. “Dinner or not, little devil.”

“Stop calling me that.” I frown at him. “Or I leave?”

He raises his hands in meek surrender and takes a step back. “Fine, I won’t.”

“Why didn’t you come to work?” I ask him, genuinely hoping for a meaningful answer. He sprawls on the couch opposite me and looks at the floor-to-ceiling window of the city. He won’t give me an answer. Of course, he won’t. He’s Saint King.

“I had better things to do.”

His words punch me in the gut. “You did? Then why the fuck am I here? Maybe I should leave.”

“Don’t fucking threaten me, little devil.” He teases.

“Or what? What will you do? Kiss me? Fuck me?”