Page 70 of Break My Rules
Chapter17
Saint
How far will I go for this woman?
It’s not a hypothetical anymore. She’s kidnapped one of my closest friends. Tied him up. Drugged and threatened him.
And what did I do?
I helped her.
Worse still, I don’t regret it, not even in the cool morning light of day.
I take a sip of coffee, and let out a weary breath, standing on the back terrace, looking out at the calm open fields and woodland. Tessa slept like a lamb; I’m not surprised, after the ravishing I gave her, but I’m the one who lay awake all night, wondering how the fuck I’m going to smooth this over with Max.
Never mind our friendship. Tessa could wind up in prison over the stunt she pulled yesterday. I just have to pray to God that her drugs worked, and Max doesn’t remember what happened to him.
What Tessa did—without hesitating for a moment to think of the consequences, for either one of us.
Shit.
I knew she was getting desperate, determined to find Wren’s attacker before time ran out. I just didn’t think she’d cross the line this far. Or that I’d barrel over it right after her, to hell with the law, or ethics, or anything but giving her everything she wants.
‘Please, Saint…’
I’m a strong man. Stubborn, people call me. I don’t bend for anyone, but when Tessa looks at me with that desperate expression in her eyes, I can’t refuse her. In life. In bed. Buried to the hilt in her sweet cunt, writhing and sobbing for me, the way she did last night.
She obeyed me, sure, sinking to her knees and sucking my cock until I was half-crazy; following every furious order of mine, as if somehow that would give me the upper hand again. But I know, even making her weep, making herbeg—legs spread and wet for me, eyes rolled back with pleasure, gorgeous tits shaking with the impact of my thrusts—it’s only a momentary dominance. A brief taste of control.
Tessa has been a force to be reckoned with since the first day we met.
It’s why I love her so fucking much.
I drain the rest of my coffee, and head back inside. I find Max standing in the middle of the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He looks terrible, despite being passed out for almost twenty-four hours.
I freeze a moment in the doorway, on alert. Does he remember? Is this whole thing about to unravel in epic fashion?”
“Christ, my head hurts,” Max mumbles. “You got any more of that coffee on?”
“I’ll brew a fresh pot,” I say carefully, crossing the room. I keep a watchful eye on Max as I set the espresso machine again for him. He leans against the counter, scratching and yawning, reaching for one of the pastries I fetched from the village.
“Fuck, I must be getting old,” Max says, shaking his head. “Hangovers never used to kill like this.”
A hangover. He doesn’t remember.
Thank fuck.
I try to hide my relief and give a sympathetic smile. “You were going pretty hard,” I say, resenting the lie, but not seeing another way around it. “We couldn’t keep up.”
“Yeah…” Max trails off, frowning. “Jog my memory, will you? Last night’s pretty fuzzy to me.”
I laugh again. “What happened to your superhuman partying abilities?” I tease, and Max manages a smile.
“Fuck, I can still drink you under the table, any day you choose,” he banters back, chewing a pastry. He looks more relaxed now, back to his old self as he wakes up. “Let me guess, you and Tessa quit early, to go be boring lovebirds on your own.”
“Bingo,” I agree, and push a mug of coffee over to him. “But you looked like you were having enough fun for the both of us. Who were those girls?” I add, and he blinks, looking surprised.
“Hell if I know.” Max looks around. “I can’t even remember how I got over here.”