Page 114 of Godless Saints

“Sorry.”

“Already told you. I like your hands on me.”

I stared straight ahead. Looking at him made me feel even drunker. Heat crawled up my neck. Great. Blushing. Not a good look.

We sat in silence. I don’t know how long. A guy like him could’ve overpowered me easy. He didn’t.

Irish. Definitely. Dark hair moving in the breeze. Those green eyes again. Faint freckles across his nose. Fuck. How long had I been staring?

“What are you thinking about, prince?”

He kept staring at the ocean. Did I hurt him?

“I… you.” I shook my head. “I mean, did I hurt you?”

“You could never hurt me, prince.”

“You looked hurt. When I called you a criminal.”

“No. I’m not hurt.”

He wouldn’t look at me. Just the ocean.

“I came here to Saint Lucia because I’m running from my family. All the responsibilities my father shoves down my throat. I’m tired. Got accepted to this new school in the fall I don’t even want. Full of entitled assholes. My whole life is scheduled. Monday to Sunday. Father’s firm, fencing, galas, foundations, volunteering, full course load. Eyes on me constantly. Father, mother, her family, press, Harvard peers. Fake girlfriend since high school. We “broke up” this year so she could actually date. I love her, she’s my best friend. I wanted to marry her just to shut everyone up. Now they’re throwing other girls at me. Good optics. Legacy bullshit. That I—”

His hand settled on my knee. Still not looking at me.

“Sorry. Was I rambling?”

“No. You just need to come up for air sometimes, prince.”

He finally looked at me.

“No wonder you ran.”

Moonlight cut across his face, sharpening every masculine line. I kissed him again on instinct. He looked surprised. So was I. I broke it, shoved up fast. The table rattled. His drink sloshed.

“I’m going.”

I bolted for the elevator, jammed the button, and got in. The attendant asked for the floor. I slammed lobby. Doors shut right as the inked bastard rushed after me.

I pressed my back to the wall. Breathing hard.

Why the fuck did I kiss him?

The schedule. The girlfriend. The legacy. I’d told him all of it. A fucking stranger.

CHAPTER 29

MOON

I came back to Evermourne on Monday. Then I disappeared for three days. The Winter Ball already felt like something from another life. Christmas break loomed, and most heirs were counting down the hours until they could flee to their family estates and pretend they hadn’t spent the term ripping each other apart for Favor.

I stayed in my room in Aster Court. Door locked. Curtains drawn. Phone facedown. Pretending the world outside didn’t exist.

Cillian was banned from Aster Court after the stunt he pulled, so runners came.

Food appeared at my door three times a day, all my favorites, prepared exactly how I liked them, never with a note but I knew it was from him. Medicine for the bruises showed up like clockwork. Sometimes I’d wake to a new blanket or a thermos of the exact tea blend I preferred. The snow outside had gotten more consistent, and the Scottish Highland winter had set in.