Page 41 of Saint

“This,” then she moved her hands to fist my t-shirt, reached up on her tiptoes, and then closed her eyes, and kissed me.

My brain turned to mush.

Everything stopped.

Everything stilled.

All except for tingles that raced up and down my spine.

And it wasn’t until she pulled away abruptly and gasped, then whispered, “I’m sorry.”

I finally moved.

I reached for her, gathered her in my arms, one arm reaching around to the small of her back so I could pull her to me, and the other hand cupping the back of her neck.

I applied slight pressure, so her head angled in the right direction, and then I kissed her.

She gasped in my mouth, and that was the perfect opening to slide my tongue in and tangle it with hers.

I moaned into her mouth, tasting her.

Feeling her.

Scenting her.

She drove me fucking wild.

So wild in fact that as our tongues danced to a rhythm only she and I understood, as her fingers roamed over my body, that I hadn’t heard a cell ringing.

I hadn’t heard a fucking thing.

Not until I slowly pulled my mouth from hers, nipping at her bottom lip as I did so.

I rested my forehead into hers, and that was when I realized that I had hauled her up my body with my arm.

She was inhaling deeply, and then she pulled her head away, looked deep into my eyes, and she smiled.

I winked, “Know what this means?”

She shook her head as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Means you're officially off the market, and so am I,” I said.

Soraya chose that time to make her presence known, and she did so by saying, “What’s that smell?”

I stood there for a moment, then turned my head and saw the burnt eggs in the pan, “Fuck.”

Ophelia buried her face into the side of my neck and giggled.

I winked at Soraya, “Feel like going out and getting pancakes?”

She smiled.

‘It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together... and I knew it.’ – Ophelia’s Secret Thoughts.

Chapter 12

Ophelia