Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(22)

Very gently, he pulls me into a hug. “It’s so damn good to see you, Harlow. I was going out of my mind with worry.”

“I’m fine.”

His eyes probe mine. “Are you really?” He looks over the fading cuts and bruises on my arms. “How badly do you hurt?”

“I’m good. Honestly. It hurt like a bitch at the start, but it’s manageable now. Stop worrying.”

“That’s a virtual impossibility when it comes to you.”

I ease out of his hold, feeling the weight of the stares boring into my back. “You know better.” I tsk him. “It’ll take more than a petty bitch to knock me down.” I take a proper look at him, noting the deep purple shadows under his bloodshot eyes and the extra growth on his chin and cheeks. His hair is a little longer, curling around his ears. “You look like shit. Do you ever sleep?”

“It’s been a while,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair. “I came straight from an overseas mission into a messy situation in Rydeville, and now I’m here. I haven’t had time to sleep.”

“You’re staying the night,” I tell him. “And I’m cooking you a proper dinner.”

He ruffles my hair, pressing a kiss to my brow. “Tempting as that is, I value breathing.” He narrows his eyes, staring over my shoulder. “I don’t trust that punk not to slit my throat in my sleep.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Saint says, and I hear the smugness in his tone.

“Saintly.” I spin around, glaring at my lover. “Knock this shit off. I fucking mean it.” It’s getting so old.

“Stay if you want,” Theo says, tugging Saint back inside. “We have lots to discuss.”

“I’ll take a rain check. I need to meet with the boss man, but I can stay for a couple hours.”

I loop my arm in his. “Come on inside. We’ll talk over brunch.”

Saint yanks me away from Diesel, pulling me over to the stairs. Diesel stalls, ready to spill blood for me, and I shake my head, telling him to leave it. “What the fuck, Saint?” I ask, as he manhandles me up the stairs.

“Put a fucking bra on,” he hisses, dragging me down the hallway to my bedroom. “I can see your fucking nipples, and that pervert is not getting a show.”

“You are certifiably insane.” I roll my eyes as I enter my bedroom. “You know that, right?”

“Bite me.” Saint slams the door, leaning back against it, folding his arms, and fixing me with a stern look.

I look in the mirror, and my nipples are poking through my thin tank. I shrug, whipping it off. “I don’t know what the big deal is,” I say, wanting to press his buttons. “They’re only nipples, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before.”

“Don’t fucking push me, princess.” He rubs his temples, and I silently fist pump the air. Annoying Saint is one of my favorite pastimes. Not least because it often leads to the rough, angry sex I crave.

“Or what?” I stalk to the door, pushing my bare breasts into his naked chest. “Will you punish me, Saintly?” I nip at his lower lip. “Please punish me,” I purr in a breathy tone. “Put me over your knee and slap the shit out of me.” My eyes darken as I flash him a grin. “Or impale your cock in my ass and fuck me until I repent.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” His head slams back against the door as his hardening cock nudges against my stomach. “You will be the death of me. I’m convinced of it.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it. We both know you fucking love it.”

He claims my mouth in a hard, grueling kiss, and I’d love nothing more than to let him angry fuck me, but Diesel is downstairs, and he’d know what we’d done. I made a promise to myself that I would never rub my relationship in his face, because I know he has feelings for me.

Reluctantly, I pull back, grabbing a bra from my dressing table and putting it on. Saint watches me redress, his eyes glued to my tits, the bulge in his pants straining against the material.

Saint grabs me to him, cupping my boobs through my bra. “You have the best tits, princess. I’m going to fuck them later.”

“Promises, promises,” I tease, opening the door.

He hauls me back against his hard chest. “Damn straight, babe. I never say anything I don’t mean.”

We rejoin the others downstairs. Theo and Caz busy themselves in the kitchen while we sit at the table, nursing fresh cups of coffee. “Is there any update on the DEA asshole?” Galen asks, sliding his arm along the back of my chair.

“I have a meet arranged with him for later in the week, but he’s still refusing to play ball,” Diesel admits. “However, I did glean some new intel. I had a guy on my team run a background check on Agent Howie Young and I found something interesting.”

“Do we have to drag it out of you?” Saint asks, impatiently tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop.

Diesel ignores him, focusing on me. “Agent Young is on an extended leave of absence. As far as his superiors are aware, he’s spending time with his family.”

“He’s gone rogue,” I surmise. “You were right. This is personal for him.”

Diesel nods. “It’s got to be. It also means he obtained the recording of McKenzie’s murder illegally.”