Page 101 of Godless Saints

I dragged him flush against me, skin burning.

“Besides,” he hissed, eyes averted, “I like control. I’m so far gone from that now it’s embarrassing.”

“You want it the other way around, then?”

Moon froze. “What?”

I grinned.

His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I dug my fingers into his ass. “You keep saying you don’t want to marry me, but you’re the one who likes control. So marry me and fuck me instead. I’d let you.”

Moon breathed shallow against my neck. Then, barely a whisper, “I… I wanted you to fuck me. Ever since Saint Lucia.”

I curled my hand around the nape of his neck. “Fuck. The Prince of Aster. The control freak running half the academy… wants the Irish mafia idiot to own him?”

Moon’s face burned. He slammed a hand over my mouth. “Shut up. I didn’t say own.”

I licked his palm, slow.

“Gross.” He ripped his hand back, but his cock twitched hard against me. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

I caught his wrist and pressed his palm flat over my heart. “I’m yours.”

His fingers dug in, nails biting.

“Besides,” I said, putting the book down, “you’re already wearing my ring. I’d get you a better one though. Gold.”

“You are deeply unwell,” he muttered into my chest.

“Yeah.” I smiled against his hair. “Still thinking gold.”

Moon stayed quiet after that, arms tightening around my waist. The rain kept falling outside. The fire kept dying.

And for one terrifying second, with his warm weight pressed all over me and my ring still on his finger, I let the thought form. I could keep him here. Forever. He’d stop fighting eventually.

The idea didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt like the only plan that made sense. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

CHAPTER 25

MOON

“Yes, I’ll be fine here,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. My thighs still throbbed with every small shift.

“It’s better if you go alone. Two of us would be far too obvious.” I let a trace of irritation slip into my voice. “Besides, I need to lie down. My body is still… feeling the last few days.”

Cillian studied me, then stepped in close. His hand cupped the side of my neck, thumb brushing my jaw with that possessive gentleness that always twisted something dangerous in my stomach.

“Okay,” he murmured. He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

I watched him swing onto the motorcycle and disappear down the drive, the engine roaring into the trees. The silence that followed should have been a relief. It wasn’t.

I closed the door and collapsed onto the bed in Cillian’s oversized sweater. My body ached all over… thighs sore, ass tender, bruises pulsing everywhere he’d touched me. And yet I could get used to mornings like this. I could stop fighting him.

My phone buzzed.

Vivi: