Page 53

FIFTY-ONE

LENNON

“Len, your man is here!” Maisie yells from the front door as I straighten the silverware on the dining room table.

I’m pretty positive that I’ve moved this exact fork like three times, but every time I look at it again, it feels slightly askew, so I attempt to fix it. Again.

A few seconds later, Saint walks into the dining room, his tattooed arms full of paper grocery bags.

Per usual, the sight of him distracts me, my gaze trailing over the dark ink on his skin and veiny forearms.

God, since when did veins start being so stupidly hot?

Probably because the man is literally the hottest thing to exist, and somehow, I ended up lucky enough to have him.

“Stop looking at me like that, Golden Girl, before I have to bend you over and fuck you on this dining room table. Then, you’ll be upset because I ruined your Thanksgiving plans,” he rasps, his voice doing that thing where it goes all gravelly and deep, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

“And you know how much I hate making you upset, baby.”

I’m shamelessly pressing my thighs together, and of course he notices because my man notices everything.

His mouth tilts into my favorite cocky, sexy smirk as he slowly licks his lips and his eyes travel down my body, pausing on the skirt I wore today. His tongue runs across his teeth. “You also know how much I fucking love these.”

I am so obscenely, out of my mind obsessed with him it’s ridiculous. Only fair since he’s even more obsessed with me.

“Saint,” I warn, despite the fact that I want to drag him to my bedroom and spend the rest of the night having him do filthy, dirty things to me.

I take a step back, noticing his wolfish gaze, trying to ignore how the space between my thighs throbs.

“No. You stay over there, and I’ll stay over here. ”

He chuckles darkly. “That sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Golden Girl?”

Okay, you know what? Maybe we could just cancel Thanksgiving.

I mean, it’s just dinner. Who cares? We can order pizza or something.

Saint carefully sets the bags on the table without disrupting anything, which I’m thankful for since I did just spend the last hour working on this tablescape.

Then he saunters toward me wearing a pair of dark jeans that are molded to his thick, powerful thighs and a black, long-sleeve henley that he’s got pushed up to his elbows.

He looks good enough to eat.

But judging by the dark, predatory look in his eyes as he closes the space between us, Thanksgiving dinner is not what he’s hungry for.

I lift my hands between us as I step backward. “Saint, stop it right now.”

Another step closer.

“I’m serious!”

Not serious at all.

Okay, maybe a little bit because I’m really excited to host my own Thanksgiving for the first time.

He collides against me, his big, rough hands sliding along my jaw and cradling me not so tenderly in his palms, and Jesus, I love it.

I love when he’s like this.

All growly, and dark, and hungry. When he doesn’t hold me as if I’m going to break.

His lips hover over mine, a breath away, but not kissing me. Yet.

“What do you expect out of me, baby? You wear that little skirt that shows off your legs, making me fucking crazy, and then you look at me like you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt. Like you want me to fill you up. That would be crazy, though, because then you’d be sitting through Thanksgiving dinner with me dripping out of you.

” He pauses, gaze dropping to my parted lips.

His tongue traces along my bottom lip slowly until I’m sure I’m actually going to lose my mind.

“You’d love that though. My dirty girl loves it when I give her my cum. ”

I have no idea how I still have rational thought when I’m currently being touched by a man who knows my body inside and out. And he is absolutely doing his best work right now.

“Saint, your mother is going to be here in thirty minutes.”

He groans, the deep sound vibrating through me as his head drops to my shoulder. “Baby, for fuck’s sake, please do not mention my mom right now.”

“Well… it’s true. So, behave. ”

When he lifts his head from my shoulder, I press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips. “It’s your mom’s first time here. And it’s our first Thanksgiving together. I want it to be perfect. I want her to feel comfortable.”

It’s been just over two weeks since my father was arrested, and Saint and I have been together pretty much every day since.

The only time we’ve been apart is when he’s had hockey or a shift at Tommy’s or when either of us has class. I got to experience my very first game last week, and it was… incredible. Not just watching my man in his element, but the atmosphere, the sport itself.

And yeah, it was insanely sexy to watch him checking guys against the boards and being all intense and intimidating.

When they put him in the penalty box for a two-minute penalty, he looked right at me and lifted his stick, shooting me a cocky, completely Saint-like wink.

As if I wasn’t already blushing so hard I thought I would catch fire after thinking about the last time we were in there… together.

Then, after the game, there was all of that pent-up aggression and adrenaline coursing through him, and he spent the entire night between my thighs, taking it out on me.

In the best way.

Can’t wait for the next game day.

“She’s going to be comfortable, baby. I told you not to stress about it,” he says with a smile, pushing off the wall behind me.

“I hope you two know how thin these walls are and how not quiet you are,” Maisie calls through said thin wall between the kitchen and dining room. “Len, no wonder you’re looking so tired lately. Saint, give my girl a break, ’kay?”

My God.

“I’m going to die of embarrassment,” I mutter as I push past Saint toward the table, attempting to busy myself and not think about the fact that my best friend has absolutely heard all of the filthy things Saint says—and does—to me.

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure she knows we’re not playing Go Fish in there.”

I pin him with a look, lifting a brow. “Obviously, I’m more of an Uno kind of girl.”

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior until after dinner.” He lifts his hands in surrender, even though he’s wearing a smile that tells me he’s probably not going to make it through dinner at all. “Oh, did your mom respond?”

My heart squeezes painfully at the question, and I shake my head. “Nope. She… hasn’t responded to any of my messages.”

Saint slips a strong arm around my waist and leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead that I lean into, sighing. “Just give her some time, baby. She’ll come around.”

I’m not even sure why I tried to reach out to her, but there’s just some part of me that feels like I had to. I guess at the end of the day, I thought that we might be able to fix whatever had broken between us because of my father.

But… she believes it’s my fault that all of this has happened.

At least that’s what she said during the one and only time I’ve spoken to her since he was arrested.

She blames me for “betraying” our family, for the fact that all of their accounts and assets have been frozen because of the ongoing investigation.

Regardless of what’s happened between us, there’s a part of me that’s still the little girl who just wants her mom, who hopes that we can repair what’s broken. But I guess only time will tell.

“Yeah, so it’s just going to be us, Maisie, Tommy, and your mom,” I say.

It’s the first time I’ve ever celebrated a holiday without my parents, and even though there’s still a twinge of sadness that remains, I’m comforted by the fact that I’m surrounded by the family that I chose.

The ones that chose me.

And it really doesn’t feel like I’m missing anything at all.

Saint walks over to where I’m standing at the dining table and reaches for my hands, threading our fingers together.

“It’s going to be great, and I can tell that you’re anxious, but it’s going to be the best Thanksgiving either of us have ever had.

Especially because Tommy’s bringing his fried turkey. ”

I roll my eyes with a laugh. The man is always thinking about one of three things. Food, hockey, or sex.

“I know. You know, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.” Untangling our hands, I reach for the thin chain around his neck that still holds my ring, and I curl my fingers around it, gently pulling him to me.

“And I’m thankful for a lot of things today, but it’s you that I’m the most thankful for.

Thankful that you crossed that line every single time that I told you to stay on your side, that you pushed my buttons and drove me insane.

That you didn’t let me quit when I wanted to give up.

I’m thankful that I get to love you, Saint. And that I get to be loved by you.”

He shakes his head. “You have no idea how crazy I am about you. How obsessed I am with every single part of you. How much I love you. You’re the most pure, good thing I’ve ever known. My Golden Girl.”

Saint swipes away my tears. Undoubtedly, the happiest ones I’ve ever cried.

“You know, before all this started, Maisie and I made a rule. Never fall for the bad boy…”

His lips curve into my favorite cocky smirk. “Then break the rules for me, baby.”