Watching the way his face clenches every time he’s fully embedded inside me. With all that gentle strength of his perfectly under control, he pulls my arms up over my head, pins them beneath his as his body weight pins me down too, and feeling physically so helpless—as helpless as I’ve been, emotionally, all this time—I feel a ball of fire burst from inside me. I gasp and convulse beneath him, his name raw on my lips, his green eyes mercilessly watching me unravel. “Malcolm.”

He keeps me in place as I come, driving slower and more deliberately inside me to prolong my orgasm, watching me with burning green eyes and then kissing my mouth the rest of the way through as he pumps faster, deeper, as exquisitely as ever. And then, what most gets me is the way his powerful arms clench all around me and I know he’s letting go, coming with me.

We’re motionless for a long time after. Saint is breathing deeply, and I’m breathing fast.

I smile against his face, where he set it down against mine as we recover. He smiles too, and slides a hand down my side to squeeze my ass affectionately. He laughs softly. All hot and male against me. I swear I just want to lie here and be super fucked and be super happy.

“Vixen,” he murmurs as he rolls to his back and settles me against his bare chest, brushing my hair back. “You feel even better than I remember,” he says quietly, looking into my eyes as he curls his hand around the back of my neck and gives it a squeeze, stroking the back of my ear with his thumb. “And I remember every time with you very well, Rachel.”

God. These feelings.

“I remember you too,” I finally manage.

We smile a little. And I’m so affected by his smile, being with him in bed like this, I feel a flush creep up to my cheeks.

I tug the sheet up to cover myself, and he raises a brow, but says nothing.

He disappears into the bathroom and when he comes back, I sit up uncertainly, gauging him. He drops on the bed and rests his back on a pillow, not even bothering with the sheets, his tan skin contrasting with the whiteness around him.

I remain sitting, hesitant, wondering if I should leave.

Using his palm, he turns my head, locks the angle of my face so he can start to kiss me, holding me firmly but gently against his body. “You’ll remember tonight too,” he says.

Body melt.

“Is that a promise?” I ask him.

“I break my promises, remember?” He studies my face, then he speaks, his eyes pure devil, “It’s a warning.”

We’re sweaty and relaxed in his bed, the covers tangled around our feet when his hand starts wandering dangerously up my rib cage.

“Saint . . . you’re killing me. You’re just . . . wicked. I can’t keep up with you.”

“Come here,” he coaxes.

His arm wraps around the back of my neck and pulls me to his side only to embrace me. His voice murmuring close to my ear brings out the goose bumps on my bare arms. “I’m only going to hold you, Rachel.”

But just as he finishes speaking, he leans and kisses the corner of my mouth.

I feel the kiss between my legs. In my nipples. In my heart. Breathless, I steal a touch and cup his square jaw. “You said you were only going to hold me. And you just kissed the corner of my mouth. Do you classify that as only holding? Sin?”

“I do.” Although he smiles, the look on his face is intense. “Would you like to pretend I didn’t do that?” He rubs the spot and looks down at me with hot eyes. I’ll never forget the lust on his face as he looks at me. “Would you?” he presses, his voice gruff.

“No.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth again, holding my face in one big hand.

I’m melting.

I’m scared.

I want him so much.

“If you hire me, you can’t get away with that,” I whisper.

He looks at my lips with the hunger of a panther. “Oh, I can get away with it.”

“You’ve never touched any one of your employees.”

“I make the rules.” He raises a brow in challenge, and then starts lowering his head again.

I sit here, shivering, as his warm breath fans my face on the other side of my mouth. I swallow back a whimper, sliding my fingers into his hair. He exhales and goes to my ear, kissing the back of it, relaxing a little as I let him draw me back into his arms.

We stay there for a little while. I think I’m going to die tomorrow remembering.

I wrap my arms around his neck.

I want to speak but I don’t want to break this. He seems to need to hold me and for me to let him, and I need this connection.