Vegas, Baby - Volume 3

I grinned as I approached Angelique, feeling possessive and cocky at the blissed out expression on her face. When I tugged the shirt over her head, she blinked a few times and seemed to come back to reality. She helped me get her arms through the holes, then looked down and pulled it away from her body. The shirt engulfed her, and her eyes went wide. “Holy cow. You’re huge,” she mumbled. Then her eyes slid over to stare at the large bulge so clearly visible through the loose fabric of my shorts.

I chuckled as I threw my gear into the bag and zipped it up. “Don’t worry, angel eyes. I might be a big guy, but you were made for me.”

6

Angelique

My brain couldn’t quite wrap around how much had changed since Vince brought me to the stadium for his bout. I’d walked in there dreading the time I was about to spend in a tiny uniform, but Saint had changed that when he threw his robe over me and carried me out of the Octagon. I’d been scared for my safety, and he insisted he’d keep me safe. I’d been a virgin who’d never had a guy give her an orgasm, and he’d changed that too—in a mind-blowing way.

While I was still feeling the high from my release, Saint led me out of the locker room and through a back hallway where we didn’t see anyone. I stared at him from the passenger seat of his truck as he pulled out of the parking garage, not sure what to think about everything. The silence surrounding us was thick, and I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a nice truck before.”

“You like my other girl?” Saint’s lips curved up in a grin as he winked at me. “I just got her last month.”

“Your other girl?” I echoed in confusion.

His grin widened, and laugh lines bracketed his dark eyes as humor shone from them. “The Ford F-250 Super Duty Platinum might be a big fucking truck, but I still think of her as my girl.” He patted the steering wheel and added, “She was my only one until today.”

It was hard to believe this sexy older man was referring to me as the girl in his life along with his fancy truck with all the bells and whistles. Saint was a freaking world champion in mixed martial arts with huge endorsement deals. He could get any woman with a snap of his fingers, but for some reason, it seemed that I was the one he wanted. I wasn’t going to talk him out of it, though. Not when he was the answer to my prayers. It was too early to tell if he was going to be around for the long haul, but I was going to go with the flow for the moment and see where this thing with Saint led me. It couldn’t be any worse than the position I’d been in with my brother.

When Saint pulled up to a huge house about fifteen minutes later, the degree to which my living situation had changed became much clearer. Even back when our parents were around, I’d never lived in anything but dingy apartments or rent by the week motels. Saint’s garage was bigger than the entire place I’d shared with Vince up until a few weeks ago.

I was already intimidated before we stepped foot into the actual house, but he didn’t seem to notice as he led me through a quick tour of the downstairs before we circled back to the kitchen. It looked as though it could’ve come straight out of a magazine with marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and shiny pots hanging from a rack over the island. I was afraid to touch anything, so I stood there awkwardly as Saint moved with confidence.

“I’m going to make myself a recovery drink to tide me over while I make dinner.” He pulled a container out of the pantry and set it on the counter next to the sink. “Do you want one, too? It doesn’t have anything that’ll hurt you. The ingredients are organic. There are carbs, proteins, electrolytes, antioxidants, and some immune system boosters.”

It had been way too long since I’d had a decent meal, so I wasn’t about to turn down anything. Not even if I wasn’t too sure about the stuff he was mixing into cold water. “Sure, I guess I could give it a try.”

He poured me a glass of water and dumped a scoop of the mix in, stirring before handing it over to me. I took a small sip and smiled when the berry lemonade flavor hit my taste buds. “It’s pretty good.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He put the container back in the pantry and headed over to the fridge. “How do you feel about grilled chicken breasts, brown rice, and zucchini?”