Code Name Heist (Jameson Force Security 3)

Eventually, I’d ended up on my stomach in the middle of the bed with my hands behind my back, pinned in place by Saint’s tight grip. He’d managed to lift my ass into the air, then drive in.

It’s like old times. We’re pissed at each other, we get no satisfaction from our words, so we fight it out physically. I lose because he’s stronger than me.

I’m now the submissive, and he’s marking his territory.

Saint’s a feminist at heart, and he wants me to make my own decisions. But in this bedroom, he has to save a little face and I don’t mind giving him this.

Besides, I’ve already come twice, and he’ll draw another one out of me before he’s done.

?

“Are you done being mad?” Saint asks. He’s flat on his back with me sprawled on top of him, my head on his chest. His hand is on my lower back, gently stroking my skin.

It’s a stupid question. I’m so replete and mellow right now the room could catch on fire and I wouldn’t be mad.

As is typical of this sexy man with the magical fingers, tongue, and cock, he thoroughly destroyed me with sex and now he wants me to admit I’m not annoyed anymore.

“Promise not to try to chase me away?” I ask.

“Nope,” he replies, and I give him a hard nudge in the ribs with my knuckles. I melt a little when he says, “Never going to stop caring about you, Sin.”

I don’t respond. Letting the words sink into me, I choose to give them a bit of weight. While I get he’s not ready to figure out what we’re going to be to each other when all this is done, I have to accept he does care. The unknown is how much. Apparently, I’m going to have to wait for that answer.

I don’t want him to, though. I can’t imagine how he spent those years in prison believing the worst about me. Never knowing that what I did, I did out of love. I don’t want Saint to ever have those doubts again.

“Just so you know,” I say softly, raising my head to meet his eyes. Truth is always most evident there. “If you ask me to be a part of your life when this is over, the answer is ‘yes’.”

Saint stares at me, but he can’t hide what I see reflecting from his eyes. He likes what I said, even if he won’t say it.

Instead, he brings a hand up, pushes a bit of my wild mane back, and holds it there. “I’m going back to Pittsburgh tomorrow.”

Abrupt change of subject, but I can follow. “Because of your missing friend?”

He nods. We have nothing to do for almost a full week until we must attend Mercier’s party. William doesn’t have any jobs planned for us, so we’re free to do whatever we want. I was going to go back to London to hang with my dad and invite Saint to go with me, but Saint, at least, is off the table now.

“Would you want to come with me?” he asks hesitantly.

I can’t tell if the hesitation is because he doesn’t want me to or if he doesn’t want to hear if I say no.

Regardless, still feeling all kinds of mellow, I let him off the hook easy. “I’d love to, but I think I want to spend some time with Dad.”

There’s no relief in his gaze, so maybe he does want me to go. Regardless, our plans are set. Besides, maybe it will be good for us to spend a little bit of time apart. What is that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

That aside, I do find it telling he wants to fly back to Pittsburgh. At least from what I know of the situation, with his friend either dead or taken hostage in Syria, it means there’s not much Saint can do to help at this point.

Still, I feel for him. Saint is a loyal man who develops deep bonds when he cares for someone. I’ve been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it before.

“If Jameson is as good as you say they are,” I say confidently, snuggling against his chest. “They’ll get your friend back.”

Saint squeezes me, a physical sign he appreciates my confidence. “I sure hope so.”

“You like this job, don’t you?” I don’t raise my head, wanting to evaluate his response based on the emotion in his voice.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I feel like I belong. More than anything, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m doing something my mother would have been proud of.”

My eyes mist up at the pointed reminder that Saint’s mother, whom he adored above all else in this world, is no longer here. I wasn’t responsible for her death, but I was responsible for the way she left this world.