Saint (Angelview Academy #1) - E.M. Snow Page 0,68

of me, drawing my orgasm out longer and longer until I’m sure I won’t last another second without completely passing out.

When he comes at last, I know it the moment it begins to happen. His maddening thrusts pause for a split second of time, and then he arches his back, his breath catching, as his hips shove into me as hard as they can. He pulses inside me as he releases into the condom.

When we both come down from the high, he collapses on top of me, but then rolls to the side so he’s not crushing me. We lay in total silence as we catch our breaths. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I had the most mind-blowing sex of my life with Saint Angelle.

And I can’t believe how badly I already want to do it again.

“Hey, what’s up with your scars?”

I glance over at Saint, who’s lounging against my headboard, still completely naked. We’ve just finished round two of more bone-rattling sex, and I’m spent. I can hardly move, but his question makes me jerk into a sitting position. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I yank my bedsheet over my legs and chest, where I have patches of fading scars, though none of them are super noticeable unless you’re really close to me.

Like Saint’s been for the last couple hours.

“They’re nothing,” I quickly say.

Pressing his full lips into a firm line, he gives a slow blink, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. I don’t really give a shit if he believes me or not, though. He’s not getting the story behind my scars, no matter what he says.

“They don’t seem like nothing,” he replies. “They seem like fucking something.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about them, so just drop it.”

He rolls over so he’s on his side and props his head in his hand. “Touchy subject?”

His tone makes me pause. He doesn’t sound like he’s mocking me. He sounds … curious, but not mocking.

“You could say that,” I grumble.

Reaching out, he tugs the bedsheet from my grasp, baring my breasts again. With the tip of his finger, he traces the pattern of one of my scars. The contact is so gentle and warm, I shudder as need pulses through me.

“These look like burn scars.”

I push his hand away. “I said I don’t want to talk about them.”

He stares at me for several moments before releasing as sigh, as if in defeat.

“Fine, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know any of that stuff anyway.”

It’s a sharp reminder of what we’re not. We’re not friends. We’re not dating.

But we’ve slept together, so that’s got to mean something.

I just have no idea what.

Swinging his long legs to the side of the bed, he stands, and I can’t stop myself from ogling his ass. His ass should win an award, that’s how perfect it is.

“Taking off?” I ask as he begins to gather his clothes.

He glances back at me with a smirk. “Why? Ready for round three?”

I don’t think my vagina would ever forgive me if I agreed to more hard sex tonight. I’m sore enough as it is.

“No.” I shake my head and stretch on my side, just like he had, so I can watch him get dressed. As he pulls on his pants and shirt, I can’t help but ask, “What are we, Saint? What does this mean?”

He turns and gives me that panty-melting, wicked grin of his. “Thanks for the fuck, Ellis.”

I groan as he turns and walks out my room without a backwards glance. That wasn’t an answer, but of course he knows that. Maybe we’re not enemies, but he’s sure not done messing with me.

All alone, I’m left with nothing but the memories of our dirty, dirty night together, and even more questions than when this day had started.

21

The next morning, I’m not sure what I should be feeling. Fear, probably. Definitely fear. There’s no way Saint hasn’t already told half the school what we did last night. God, I’m already sick to my stomach just thinking of all the bullshit I’m going to have to put up with now.

I’m on my way to meet Loni and Henry for breakfast to celebrate the success of Parents’ Weekend, but I’m terrified to face them. If they know what I’ve done, they’ll hate me. They’ll think I’m pathetic, at best, and a total masochistic doormat at worst. And I wouldn’t even be able to blame them.

I get to the oceanfront restaurant that I can tell just