Eden

Except, he’s still not coming to my room, so I don’t know if that tactic would actually work right now.

I think about inviting Loni to go with me, but I decide this is something I should do alone. That way, he doesn’t think I was forced to attend. When I arrive at the track, the bleachers are packed. I avoid the crowd, knowing it’ll probably be far from friendly toward me, and make my way to the chain-link fence to watch the meet.

Curling my fingers through the fence, I search for Saint. It doesn’t take me long to spot him. He’s standing on the fringe of the rest of the team, crouched in a low stretch. My heart races at the sight of his tight, defined muscles rippling as he moves.

Suddenly, he stands straight and heads to the start of the track. Members of the other teams line up next to him. I watch, eyes wide, as they all lean down and ready themselves for the race, waiting for the starting gun to go off. When it does, it takes me by surprise and I gasp.

He and the other ru

He soars over the finish line less than a second before the next guy, snagging first place with apparent ease. Coming to a stop, he lifts his arms and rests his hands on the top of his head as he fights to catch his breath, which only shows off his flexed biceps. I’m practically drooling by the time he jogs off to make way to the next event.

The track meet drags on, and for the most part, it’s kind of boring. Luckily, Saint competes in several events, and handily wins them all.

It’s almost irritating—how the guy excels at everything.

When the last race finishes, I linger, wondering if he’s noticed me at all. I feel like an idiot, getting nervous as a fangirl waiting for her favorite band to come out from the venue. I can see him gathering his things and hold my breath as he begins walking away from the rest of the team.

I let out a small breath of relief when he makes his way straight toward me.

“Ellis,” he says, coming to a stop on the other side of the gate.

“Angelle,” I murmur back. “Good job out there.”

I almost wince at how lame that sounds, but he shrugs.

“Had a good night.”

Right. As if it wasn’t pure skill and determination that made him stomp all over the competition. “I’m glad I saw it,” I confess.

He stares down at me for several moments in silence. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and I begin to worry that maybe I crossed a line. What if he doesn’t want me here?

“If I’d known you wanted to come, I’d have gotten you into the track so you could watch from the sidelines,” he says after a while.

My heart thumps in my chest, and I swallow down the silly grin that wants to curl my lips. “VIP Treatment? You spoil me, Angelle.”

He smirks. “Yeah, there was free Gatorade and everything. The works.”

I chuckle softly, but then silence stretches between us as we simply stare at each other. I wish I could read his mind. This would all be so much easier if I could. I want to tell him I’m sorry, but I’m not sure he wants to hear it yet, so I keep my mouth closed.

Just as the silence begins to grow truly awkward, he says, “Come back to my room with me.”

My heart beats like a heavy drum and I feel my cheeks heat with a blush.

“Why?” I whisper, praying he can’t tell how desperate I am for him.

“You and I have a few things to discuss.”

I’m not sure if he’s being coy, so I just nod. He tells me to wait where I am, and then he goes to a nearby gate in the fence and walks out and around to me. Taking my hand, he leads me away from the track and across campus toward his dorm. We don’t say a word to each other the entire walk. By the time we reach his room, I’m a bundle of nerves, unsure of what’s about to happen. I know what I’d like to happen—I think.

Actually, I’m so confused about what I’m feeling, I’m not sure I should even be here alone with him right now.

He shuts the door behind him then leans back against it. I stand in the middle of the room, facing him, and wait for him to make the first move, or tell me whatever it is he brought me here to say.

I grow uncomfortable and self-conscious under his intense gaze.

“I’ve never had a normal relationship before,” he begins.

“Okay.”

He pushes away from the door and strides closer to me. “I mean, I’ve never dated a girl just because I wanted to date her. Every relationship I’ve been in, if you can even call them that, has been used as a tool to manipulate those around me in some way.”

I know he has a pretty cynical view of people, but that kind of motivation for a relationship is honestly kind of heartbreaking. “You’ve never once just … loved someone?”

He shakes his head, coming to a stop about a foot away from me.

“Not until you, Ellis.”

I lose my breath a little at that. “Are you sure?”

He frowns, his eyes flashing with irritation. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

That I one hundred percent believe, actually.

He reaches out and cups my face, his touch firm and warm. I shudder at the small amount of contact. “Saint—”

“I’ve never had a normal relationship, and I’ve never wanted one. Until now. That’s what I want.”

“What about your father? Nora?”

“I don’t give a shit,” he hisses. “I want you regardless of who our parents are and what they want to do to each other.”

That’s kind of an odd thing to say. I know Nora wants revenge, and Saint’s dad probably wants her dead, but it feels like there’s something else at play here that he’s not revealing to me.

“Do you know something I don’t?” I nervously ask.

Instead of answering my question, he slides his hand from my cheek to cup the back of my head and pull my face closer to his. He presses his lips to mine, and my knees shake as I go weak and needy for him in an instant. I’ve missed this more than I thought. His tongue runs along the seam of my mouth, and I open it to allow his tongue to sweep inside.

I sense that he’s as desperate as I am, but he’s also much better at keeping himself in check. Letting out a moan, I expect him to take things up a notch, but instead he breaks the kiss. His fingers grip my hair, and he tilts my head back so he can press his forehead to mine.

“You’re going on spring break with me,” he growls.

It’s not a question. It’s a command, and it makes me nervous. At the same time, though, I feel a thrill of excitement shoot through me. “I don’t have a passport.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere you won’t need one. I don’t care. I’ll make it happen.”

“Okay,” I murmur without even giving it a second thought. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” he rumbles, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

He steps back and I break somewhat from his thrall.

What the hell did I just agree to?