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CHAPTER NINE

ICEMAN

S aint McClure looked delightfully disheveled, definitely weak at the knees, and it was all my damned fault.

Even though I hadn’t given her any dick—yet—she looked thoroughly fucked, but then I’d felt the force of her orgasm when I made her come in my mouth, so that wasn’t a shocker.

Now, I just had to get her home, so I could fuck her the way I really wanted to: hard and fast, then slow and deep. My condoms were inside my nightstand, and there was no way I’d go in bareback until I’d organized some tests.

I always used wraps with every woman I’d fucked during the last twelve years, but fuck them I had, so if there was even a sliver of a chance I’d pass something onto my girl, I wouldn’t go in bare. Saint would be mine in every way, and it would happen soon, but we both needed to get tested first.

I had to protect my girl, even from me if necessary.

She looked around the room, seemingly lost, before her bright blue eyes came to me, and she asked, “So, what now? ”

“Now we go home, and I spank your ass for telling me lies about Hunter Page,” I informed her, sliding both my arms over her shoulders and nuzzling her nose with mine.

Her eyes glinted with humor, and she breathed, “Ooh, Daddy.”

I threw my head back and laughed.

Fuck me. This girl.

She grinned up at me with a little bit of sass and a lot of sweet, and the combination made me wonder if I was making the best decision of my life in falling for her or the most stupid.

But then that was Saint; she was an unsolvable puzzle of a woman who made me question my sanity in the best possible ways.

Though I liked a woman who could keep me on my toes, so there was that.

I grabbed her finger, brought it to my lips, and bit down gently. “You’re a brat, Saint McClure, but you’re my brat.”

She leaned up and kissed me softly, breathing against my lips, “And you, Jacob Irons, are a whole lot of big, bad trouble.”

As I stepped back, I spied a scrap of lace on the floor. Bending to retrieve it, I realized I was holding the panties I’d ripped off Saint earlier.

My cock was already semi-hard, but the knowledge that my girl wasn’t wearing any underwear sent me into overdrive, and I groaned, “Jesus fuck.”

Her giggle was like music filling the room. “Come on, trouble. I'd better get you home before you make a mess in that nice suit. Jizzing on Tom Ford is sacrilege.”

My eyes raked down her and up again. She looked sexy as fuck, with her hair mussed up, her dress askew, and her lips swollen and bruised from my brutal kisses. I loved it, but I didn’t love the idea of other people seeing her that way and knowing what we’d been doing.

“Tell that to his ol’ man.” I slipped the panties into my jacket pocket before shrugging it off. “Put this on,” I ordered, sliding it over her shoulders.

Saint looked down, then up at me, scrunching her nose. “It’s longer than my dress.”

I chuckled. “Tell me about it. You’ve been driving me insane all fuckin’ night in that sexy-assed scrap of material.” Grabbing her hand, I grinned and tugged her toward the door, “Come on, brat. Let’s get you home before you cause any more trouble.”

“Shit,” she cursed. “My purse is still in the bar.”

I led her out into the hallway and back out toward the club, sliding my arm across her shoulders and pulling her into my side. My hand went to my pocket, and I pulled my cell out before clicking on Gambit’s name.

“Yo!” he barked down the phone, the music in the club thumping in the background. “Where are you at?”

“Taking Saint home,” I informed him. “She left her purse at the table. Can you grab it and meet us out front?”

Gambit grunted his acknowledgment before hanging up.

I pocketed my phone, leading Saint around the stage area toward the back of the club, where we could exit into the foyer, all while scanning the crowd through the flashing lights.

It was still early for some, not even midnight, and I knew the Dischordium boys were having an after-party because we’d been invited.

Though as much as it would’ve been cool to go, the private after-party Saint and I were about to have appealed to me way more.

We hit the foyer, and I kept my arm around Saint, shielding her from the wall of windows at the entrance of the club where the paparazzi lay in wait.

“Ice,” a voice called .

I whipped around to see Gambit walking toward us empty-handed.

“It’s not there,” he told me, his jaw setting in a harsh line. “It’s gone.”

“Fuck,” Saint murmured. “My keys, phone, and a credit card were in there.”

“It’s either been taken by mistake, or somebody swiped it,” Gambit added. “With everything going on, I can’t help suspect someone’s playing stupid fuckin’ games.”

Saint’s eyes slashed toward me, and she clutched my arm tightly. “I should’ve been more careful. I thought it would be okay in the VIP area. There’s security everywhere. I just went up to dance, then the next thing I knew, Noah called me on stage.”

I shot Gambit a sharp look, my mind already running through possible scenarios. “Hundreds of people had access to the area.”

He nodded his agreement. “Yeah. I can check the security footage, but it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack, and unless the cameras were in the spot where it happened at the right time, they wouldn’t have picked up on anything.”

My arm tightened around Saint’s shoulders. “I’ve got keys to your house, so we can get in, but I think it’ll be a good idea to grab some stuff and go to a hotel. I’ll arrange to get your locks changed tomorrow and reset your security system.”

Saint nodded, biting her lip nervously.

“We’ll figure it out,” I assured her. “I won’t let anyone get to you.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she smiled. “I know you won’t. I just feel stupid for being so careless.”

“You didn’t ask to get your purse taken, Saint,” Gambit pointed out gently. “It’s not your fault. ”

“He’s right, baby,” I concurred. “It could be somebody took it by mistake, or it may just be a chancer out to make a quick buck. We’ll go back to the house, cancel your credit card, and pack a bag. We can do the rest of the shit tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Saint!” a voice called out.

I turned to see Talia come bustling out into the foyer.

“Where the fuck were you?” she demanded. “I waited, then I went backstage to look for you and saw Noah, who sent me back out, saying you’d gone to dance. I’ve been looking goddamned everywhere.”

“Sorry,” Saint murmured, her cheeks flushing prettily. “I must’ve missed you.”

Talia’s eyes took in Saint’s appearance before sweeping to me. She cocked an eyebrow. “I see how it is. Jesus, it’s like a bad nineties movie about the beautiful singer and the bodyguard.” Her lips twisted. “Whitney and Kevin, eat your heart out.”

Saint’s smile was saccharine sweet. “By the way. I ended things with Hunter. You better get behind that.”

“Ugh,” Tally exclaimed. “And there was me thinking I’d get an easy day tomorrow.” Her eyes came to me accusingly. “And what about your wife?”

A strangled noise escaped Gambit’s throat, and he let out a cough.

“Tally,” Saint murmured. “It’s none of your business.”

“You’re my business,” Talia stated emphatically. “And if you’re seeing a married man, it’s not just the breakup with Hunter I need to get behind, is it?”

I heaved out a breath. “My wife’s dead, Talia. She passed away twelve years ago.”

“Well fuck,” Talia exclaimed. “Now I feel like a cunt. ”

“If it walks like a duck,” Saint snapped. “Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut? Maybe Jacob didn’t want to broadcast his private information. Jesus, Talia.”

A slow smile spread over Tally’s face. “Well, check you out, going all Tammy Wynette on me and standing by your man. I didn’t fucking know, did I?” Her gaze slid to mine, and she shot me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

I shrugged. “No harm, no foul.”

“What are you all standing out here for, anyway?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject.

“My bag’s missing,” Saint informed her. “It’s got my keys, phone, and credit card in it.”

Talia sighed audibly. “Oh, great. Let’s hope stalker weirdo wasn’t here and nabbed it.

The last thing I need is my star act getting kidnapped in her sleep, although I doubt my star act will be sleeping alone, huh, Saint?

” Her lips stretched into a suggestive grin.

“Jacob Costner will keep you safe when he lifts you into his strong, beefy arms and carries you to safety, just like in the movies.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Saint murmured. “Excuse my manager’s dramatics.”

“I’m heading out,” Talia announced, pulling her phone from her purse and checking her messages.

“Sam and Jolie already left, and Jonny disappeared somewhere ages ago, too. Boomer’s waiting for Gambit, and he’s going to the after-party.

I’ll cancel your credit card and get a new one ordered, and I’ll get a new cell phone delivered first thing in the morning.

The security company will need to change your locks, too. Are you going home now?”

Scanning the foyer, I noticed people were starting to leave. “Yeah. I was going to take Saint to a hotel tonight and sort the lock issue out in the morning. ”

“I’ll do it now,” she argued. “Go home and hang fire.”

I checked my watch. “It’s just gone midnight.”

Talia’s eyebrows furrowed. “And?”

“How will you get a locksmith out tonight?” I asked.

“I can get the President of the United fucking States out if I want to, Jacob.” Her mouth stretched into a cocky smile. “Don’t you know who I am?”

I glanced at Gambit, who was looking down at his boots, grinning. “I’ve no doubt you can work miracles, but let’s not disturb the POTUS over Saint’s locks. I’m sure he’s got better things to worry about.”

Talia nodded and began typing on her phone. “I’ll make some calls. You just look after Saint.” Her eyes never left her screen as she began to move toward the exit, calling out, “Later, bitches.”