Page 66 of Savage Saint

Sweet. Warm. Her.

A curl falls across her cheek, hiding a part of her face, and I bend closer, using my mouth to push it aside. Pocket Doc goes still, but she’s not scared. Just like the night I took her, she’s breathing me in and subtly arching closer—her chest almost pressed against me.

Her pupils are blown wide when I look down at her, and her plump lips part.

Fuck. Up close, she is devastating.

Just for a second, my eyes drop to her mouth again, and whatever she sees on my face makes her tremble. “Santos…”

Not Saint. Not president. Motherfucking Santos.

Moreover, the way she says my name goes straight through me.

Low. Breathless. Confused.

The latter I completely understand, and I lift my free hand to her throat. Not squeezing, just wrapping my fingers around the delicate column, thumb resting beneath the curve of her jaw. A necklace made from my hand, and the longer it settles there, I realize that it belongs there.

My touch. This feeling of possessiveness.

I’m fucked.

For her part, Genesis inhales sharply, then melts into my touch.

There’s a small drop of her shoulders, her body softening toward mine instead of away. Her chin lifts into my palm, an unconscious act of submission.

I notice, though. File every fucking bit of it away.

Another stroke of my thumb beneath her jaw, and her lips part. My jaw ticks at the sight. “One week from today at six.”

Her brows pull together, but she doesn’t move away or shove me off. “W-what?”

“One week, Pocket Doc,” I say, my voice low. A demand before I lower my lips to her blushing right cheek and skim them across the soft, warm skin. I do the same to the other. “Be ready for me at six.”

She trembles, her hands now gripping my vest. Another thing that doesn’t bother me.

No one touches my cut.

They know better.

And yet I don’t mind her.

“Santos, what’s going on?” Concern replaces some of the heat in her eyes. Just a little. “Is something wrong with Trino?”

I shake my head once. “Kaos is fine.”

“Then what do you want?” Perfectly shaped brows furrow. Lips pout just the tiniest bit.

“You’ll be starting self-defense lessons.”

Silence.

Two slow blinks.

Then she laughs.

Her head tips back against the wall, forcing my hand to move with her, and the sound pulls at something inside my chest. Those giggles die the moment she looks at my face.

“Wait. You’re serious.” Incredulous. A little shock too.