His Saint (Forever Wilde 5)

It was my favorite photo of my father and me when I was little. We were swimming in the ocean, and Dad had me propped on a hip. I was tanned and freckled from the summer sun, and our faces were wide with happy smiles. There was an enormous wave right behind us getting ready to crash over our heads, but for that brief moment, we were untouchable. I can’t remember who took the photo. Probably a nanny of some kind or maybe my mom. I remembered that trip to the beach. Dad helped me make sandcastles, and I swam and played in the sand all day—not a care in the world.

“Is this you and your dad?” he asked quietly. “He died when you were growing up, right?”

My throat felt thick, so I just nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Augie. I read about your dad on the internet. It sounded like he was a good man.”

“He was,” I said, my voice sounding rough to my own ears. “My mom moved us into my grandfather’s house as if he could replace my dad in some way. They were nothing alike. Grandfather is more like my mom, so… yeah. Needless to say, I haven’t gotten over losing my dad.”

I turned away, intending to look for a cardboard box or something to collect the broken glass in when Saint stood up, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back. I stumbled and fell against his chest before his arms came around me. The physical contact when I was already feeling so raw was enough to push me over the edge. I let out a muffled sob against his shirt and felt his arms tighten.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured against my hair. “It’s okay.”

I shook my head against his chest. It sure as shit wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay and it would never be okay again.

“I miss him so fucking much, Saint,” I admitted. “He was larger than life, you know? Just a good man. He always thought the best of me. Encouraged me. Believed in me.” I was babbling, but they were thoughts that had been on my mind so much in the past year since my great-aunt’s death. “He was different from the rest of my family. It’s so unfair.”

“I know.”

The reality of the situation hit, and embarrassment slammed into me. I tried to pull away, but Saint’s arms didn’t budge. I looked up at him, intending to tell him to let go. But the look in his eyes stopped me. Concern was there, for sure. Worry too. But something else was clear in those aquamarine eyes.

Lust.

My heart was jackhammering in my chest, and I saw a pulse point on his neck jumping.

“Saint?” I whispered.

Chapter 18

Saint

I wanted to kiss him desperately. Augie’s lips were right there in front of me, soft and full. I’d never seen a man’s lips so naturally tempting. Just one quick taste. I knew it was a bad idea because of the work connection. But god, those lips.

Before I had a chance to decide either way, Augie brushed his lips across mine and I was gone. His mouth was soft and tentative, so I leaned forward and grabbed the back of his neck to keep him from changing his mind. My mouth took charge, eliciting a moan from Augie as my tongue sought entry into his mouth.

He tasted so damned sweet, and I felt his hands fist the front of my shirt. As he stepped in to my body, I wrapped my free arm around his waist to pull him in closer. Our mouths explored each other, tongues tangling as our breathing quickly turned into panting.

Finally I pulled away and leaned my forehead against his to catch my breath. I brought both hands up to cup the sides of his face and tilted it so I could look into his eyes.

His eyes were dark with need. The intensity was so much, I took a step back to catch my breath.

I closed my eyes and breathed in. Before I even had a chance to open my eyes, Augie’s body pushed against mine, forcing me back against the bedroom door until our entire bodies were pressed together. Slender-fingered hands came up to hold my face still, forcing me to look at him.

When he spoke, his voice was deliberate and held a definitive tone I hadn’t heard before. “More.”

My stomach dropped and my eyes flicked to his lips, still red and moist from the previous kiss. Augie’s hands pulled my face down until our mouths met.

The kiss started off sweet and tentative, the way I thought of the man himself, but it wasn’t long before I couldn’t keep it soft anymore. I wanted him. When my mouth was on his, all rational thought flew out of my head and I lost control. Gone were responsible reminders of my job security. Gone were warnings about moving too fast with someone who probably didn’t have all that much experience with guys. The only thing in my mind was getting more—getting inside of his delicious mouth and devouring him.