Page 47 of Saint Valentine

“I wanted a fresh start. A friend, a boyfriend who didn’t know my family or what happened, who didn’t know the stigma attached to my name.” She shrugged. “I got my heart broken. Graduated college.”

I sneered. “You loved someone.”

Aria shrugged again. “Thought I did. But no, I was infatuated.”

My gaze darkened. “Did he teach you how to do that thing you do with your mouth?”

She burst into laughter. “As a matter of fact—”

My blood pressure spiked at the thought of her mouth on anybody else. “What’s his name?” My voice was dangerously serious.

Aria’s laughter died. “Why would I give you that man’s name?”

My jaw tensed. “Because I should be the only man who knows what you do with your mouth walking this earth.”

She shook her head. “Then you’ll have to kill a few men. I said he taught me. It took years and many men to perfect it.”

I reached across the table, stilling her hand. “You’re purposely pissing me off.”

She smirked. “I am. But it’s stupid to be mad. You’ve slept with women. I’m sure you cared for someone or thought you did.”

I leaned back, the ghost of a smirk playing at my lips. “I’ve never slept with any woman but you. I fucked different women, always different. Every week since I was seventeen. I never kissed them. I always used a condom. I never even asked their names. I saved all that for you.”

She stilled. “So I was your first kiss?”

“Yes.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, something unspoken passing between us. Aria blinked first, breaking the moment. She huffed a soft laugh. “Okay, so you really are crazy. But I guess I am too, because that made my heart flutter a little bit.”

I smirked, feeling victorious.

Chapter twenty five

Saint

“Did you go to prom?”

I had been tracing slow, lazy circles on her thigh as we lay naked in silence. The question was so out of place that I almost laughed.

“No. Why?”

“I wanted to know what you did as a teen. Why not?”

“Didn’t go to high school.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me.

“What do you mean you didn’t go to high school?”

I shrugged. “Took classes at home. My father didn’t exactly want me socializing.”

She shook her head. “Of course he didn’t.”

“What about you?” I asked, watching her.

“I went. Worst night of my life.”

“Why?”

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