Page 56 of Made for Saints

Her breath came faster now, her chest rising and falling against mine. “Gentleman?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You? That’s rich.”

“Do you do this to every woman you meet?” she asked, her tone sharp, but there was no mistaking the slight tremor in her voice.

I let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating between us. “No,” I said simply. “Just you.”

She flushed at my words, her cheeks tinged pink in the dim light. I could feel her body tense beneath my hand, but she didn’t push me away. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, her gaze locking onto mine with something that looked a lot like a challenge.

“And why’s that?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost breathless.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Because you make it impossible not to.”

Her breath caught, and I felt her shiver beneath me. The tension between us was thick, electric, and I could tell she was fighting it, fighting me. But the way her hands rested lightly against my chest betrayed her. Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, not to push me away, but to anchor herself.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

“Is it?” I murmured, my lips skimming the curve of her jaw. The scent of her skin—something soft and floral—mixed with the faint rain lingering in the air, and it only pulled me closer.

“You don’t scare me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly but holding a note of defiance that made me smirk.

“Good,” I replied, my tone dark and deliberate. “Fear isn’t what I want from you, Emilia.”

Her eyes widened slightly at my words, her lips parting as if to respond, but no sound came out.

“You’re impossible,” she said finally, her voice shaky but still laced with that stubborn defiance that made me want topush her further, to see how far she’d bend before she broke.

“And you’re irresistible,” I countered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Her lips parted slightly, and I saw the flicker of something unguarded in her expression—desire, curiosity, maybe even a hint of fear. But she didn’t pull away. She didn’t push me back. And that was all the invitation I needed.

“You play a dangerous game, princess,” I murmured, my voice dropping to a near growl.

Her brows arched slightly, and I could see the flicker of defiance in her eyes. “And what happens if I win?”

I smirked, my fingers tightening on her hip. “Winning isn’t an option. Not for you.”

Her breath quickened, and for a brief moment, the world around us disappeared. Just the two of us, the heat between us, and the growing tension crackling like a live wire.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze dropping to my lips for the briefest of moments before snapping back up to meet my eyes. “Then I guess I’ll have to lose,” she whispered, her voice soft but laced with challenge.

The words sent a surge of heat through me, and before I could stop myself, I shifted closer, my body pressing against hers just enough to remind her of the dangerous game she was playing.

“Careful,” I murmured, my lips hovering just above hers. “You might not like what losing feels like.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, her expression daring. “I think I can handle it.”

For a moment, all I could do was stare at her, my pulse pounding in my ears as her words hung in the air between us. She was fire and defiance wrapped in silk, and I wanted to burn.

The spell broke with the sharp blast of a car horn from the street. Emilia startled slightly, her eyes snapping toward the sound, and I took a step back, forcing myself to let her go. My hand lingered on her hip for a fraction of a second longer thanit should have, my fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of her dress before I dropped it to my side.

I reached for the car door, pulling it open with more force than necessary. “Get in.” I muttered, my voice rougher than I intended.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to mine, and for a moment, I thought she might say something. But then she straightened, smoothing her dress with quick, practiced movements, and slid into the passenger seat without a word. Her composure was back, her walls firmly in place, but I didn’t miss the slight tremor in her hands as she adjusted the hem of her dress.

I shut the door behind her and took a moment to breathe, my hand gripping the edge of the roof like it might ground me. The cool metal beneath my palm did little to calm the fire still raging in my chest. I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair as I tried to steady myself.

She was going to be the death of me.

I was sure of it.

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