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Saint wasn’t lying—everything he’s done has been for me, to make me happy. Breaking into my house, tying me up, and kidnapping me to bring me to his estate for winter break was probably the best thing he could’ve done.
No one has ever done something so kind and thoughtful for me. No one has ever taken my writing seriously enough to care. Maybe only another writer could be capable of a gesture like this.
Or maybe only Saint de Haas.
CHAPTER TWO
SAINT
With my muse by my side in the library, I revised the first third of my manuscript today. She managed to crack five thousand words in her own project, which made me grin in absolute delight. She refused to let me read a single word of it, and I’m dying to know what story had her so enraptured. If I inspire her just as much as she inspires me.
Her brows are adorably furrowed in concentration as she researches literary agencies. Half of the time I’ve spent working on my manuscript, she’s spent scrutinizing agents and compiling a list for me to query.
She’s tenacious in her quest to find me the best possible representation.
“You should become a literary agent,” I tell her.
If Briar was an agent, she could represent me. No one would fight as doggedly for me as she would. She has just the right amount of assertiveness and passion to be the perfect advocate for so many writers. She’d certainly outperform the Derriks of the literary world.
Her eyes don’t move from the screen. “I already have a job.”
“But this one you could do in your pajamas, and you’d get to work with your favorite author.” I wink at her.
“I’m sure it takes years to become an agent. You need someone who can represent you now.”
“Then you better get started.” I snap my laptop shut. “I’m going to run you that bath you’ve been fantasizing about.”
She lights up before schooling her features and returning her focus to her screen. She’s still fighting her affection for me, but I have plenty of time to open her eyes to her true feelings.
When I call her up, she takes in a breath at the bath I’ve drawn for her. Black petals float across the surface, vanilla-scented candles lit in each corner, and a small flame dances in the fireplace at the edge of the tub. The massive window gives her a clear view of the dark forest beneath us.
“The view is even more stunning during the day,” I promise.
She’s grinning and manages a single nod. “Thank you.” The words are curt, gratitude unfamiliar on her lips, especially when directed toward me. But I’ll take it.
“Whatever I can give, you shall receive. You’ll get your massage after.”
Her magnetizing blue eyes light up. “What if I want my massage now? In the tub.”
My black heart stutters. Briar has never initiated the intimacy between us before.
She’s finally opening up to me.
I gesture to the tub. “Consider your wish granted.”
By the time I shut the door, she’s stripping off her clothes and climbing into the water. I catch a glimpse of her bare, round ass before she dips beneath the surface. I’ll be taking my time massaging her tight glutes tonight. I’m sure her ass and back are sore from sitting all day. Soon, I’ll have her sore in another way.
Briar keeps her gaze trained on me as I slowly strip in front of her, lazily unfastening every button on my shirt before reaching for the buckle on my belt.
“Let me help,” she says sweetly, hands reaching for the buckle and deftly unfastening it. She tugs my pants and boxers down, clearing her throat when she unsheathes my erection.
I slide into the tub behind her, and she freezes like she’s bracing herself for whatever I’m about to do to her.
When I lather my hands with lavender soap and sink my thumbs into the tight knots at her shoulders, her muscles relax and she sighs, leaning back into my touch.
I take my time, rubbing every inch of her soft, supple body. From her shoulders, down her arms, giving extra attention to her wrists, hands, and fingers. I repeat the motion down her other arm. She’s so limp in my hands now, she can barely keep herself upright.
My fingers explore her back, massaging away every knot before I kiss down each notch of her spine. She releases a small, satisfied sigh. I lather up my hands again before tilting her back against me and reaching around to massage her breasts.
