Manwhore +1

“Don’t close your eyes; look at me,” he says, and when I lift my lashes, his eyes are luminous in his face, and he’s the hottest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, watching me as he fucks me as if transfixed.

He rams his hand into my hair and makes a hard fist as he moves his body over mine, pinning me down for leverage as he watches me come for him.

I give myself over. Sin. Saint.

Malcolm inside me, Malcolm watching me with his green eyes, Malcolm clenching his jaw as he makes love to me, Malcolm who has my heart.

We spend Saturday on The Toy. He orders food from a delicious French restaurant before we sail and then the crew cleans up as we head upstairs.

We’re in the top-level sitting area now as the yacht moves through the water, sated from swimming, making out in the water, doing it in the cabin shower, and then in the bed. Relaxed from all the sex, Malcolm works for a while on a couch and I lounge nearby, with my feet on his lap and one of his hands stroking them absently as I surf my phone a little bit.

I’m steering away from anything that could be a downer. So no Saint social-media-digging shit for me. No Saint social media about his father. I hear him take a call and am happy to overhear that M4’s stock had a huge rally after the news broke that Edge went to Noel Saint’s corporation. And now I can’t stop dreaming of my new career. My new office space. My new life.

I’m thinking of all the things I want to do as the wind drags by and Malcolm finishes up, and when he shuts his laptop and I hear the unmistakable silence of powered-off electronics, I close my thoughts too as he pulls me up by the waist, then scoops me up in both arms and takes me to bed.

“I have legs,” I whisper sleepily.

He gives me one of his toe-curling smirks. “Long, lovely ones too.”

His king bed is waiting for us, sprawled in the center of the room, kind of big like him.

He sets me down in bed, but I crawl away and slip into one of his shirts as he strips, while exhaustion weighs me down after the day.

We settle into the bed a little bit; I crawl in and I plump the pillow and slide under the covers, and he joins me, flipping onto his back, pulling an arm above his head, relaxing as his free hand curls around my shoulders and presses me to his chest. I’m warm and soft inside, settling against him. The safe, warm nook in his arms. Gathered against his large, warm male body. Contentment and peace flow through me even as his body buzzes like it always does. With that never-ending thirst of his that I try to quench with me.

And we kiss a little. And as the kiss starts to heat up, we end up fucking slow and easy, not talking, only the noises of kissing and skin touching, our breathing and the yacht engines. I almost choke when I orgasm—the pleasure is so intense I hold my breath for forever, then exhale and lie limp, surrounded by all of Sin.

He kisses me passionately when we’re done. Like he’s grateful for my affection and my companionship and my desire of him.

Then we cuddle and I set my cheek against his chest and fall asleep fast and easily, like only the warm and safe do.

HIM +1

I wake up in Malcolm’s arms Monday morning, and though I see there’s a bit of light stealing through the drapes, I can tell there’s still maybe ten or twenty minutes to dress for work . . . maybe I’ll just stay right here forever.

He’s still in bed, his eyes closed, his dark hair in a delish rumpled mess. I shift my hip, lightly trailing my fingers up his chest, noticing the claw marks of my nails on his pecs.

My eyes widen. What . . . holy shit, did I do that?

Welcome to the land of the crazy in love, Rachel. This may have been why you were so reluctant to move here?

Grinning, I rub my fingers over the marks, and his hand slides up my back. I lift my head in surprise. His lips are curled as he watches me.

“I actually clawed you last night?”

His voice is husky with sleep. “No, the girls who came in while you were sleeping did.”

I smack his shoulder and he catches my hand, his voice deepening. “Come here.”

“Saint . . .” I breathe as he rolls over me.

He reaches between us, sliding his hand down to cup me between my legs. “Hmm?”

Shivers run through me. “You had me a thousand times last night.”

Gruff whispers as he kisses and nibbles my ear. “Did I? It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Malcolm”—I push at his shoulder a little and edge up to sit—“in five minutes I need to get dressed for work.”

“You own your work.”

“Not yet. I haven’t signed anything, and last you told me, it’s today at two p.m. In the meantime I’m going to meet with my possible future team and start getting to work.”

“All right, Rachel,” he says, clearly indulging me. “I’ll only take four minutes and fifty-nine seconds.” He pulls me back down.

“Malcolm!” I laugh, then look at him, my smile fading. “Are we really going for this? Your first monogamous, exclusive relationship?”

His grin remains, but the glint in his eye turns serious. He nods, kisses my shoulder, then smiles softly down at me, brushing his thumb over my skin. “We’re doing it. And I’ve got an eight-thirty.”

After a quick shower where it’s hard to focus on just showering, I find myself sitting on the corner of his bed with a towel wrapped around my body, just watching him—not even caring I’m going to be late. He’s got a thousand and one identical shirts and ties and jackets, and as he buttons the one he plucked off the hanger, I watch him become Malcolm Saint before my very eyes. My eyes taking in his every move, his nimble fingers zipping up his slacks, his muscles flexing as he slides a shiny leather belt around his narrow waist.

He looks at me when he feels me watching, a dent appearing in his forehead as he frowns. As if he doesn’t realize I’m just sitting here drooling my face off. Why can’t it be like the cavemen times, when all that mattered was getting food and then we could gorge on each other and lock ourselves in here forever?

But he doesn’t want just the food; he wants the world, the moon.

And, apparently, me.

“Come here.” He pulls me up and I close my eyes, my toes curling when he sets a kiss that’s almost chaste on my lips. “We’re meeting the lawyers at two to make it official. Start planning your board; one that’ll help you make your new venture whatever you had once dreamed Edge could be. Give yourself a team that will help you build the platform you need to put what’s here,” he taps my temple, “out there.” He signals out the window.