Page 97 of Cross My Heart
My voice cracks with emotion, and Saint looks down at me with heartbreaking tenderness.
“I know, sweetheart. But maybe… Maybe somehow, you’ll be able to let it go.”
A sob breaks free at those words, and I bury my face against his chest and howl, shaken with a fresh wave of grief.
“She wouldn’t want you to hurt like this,” Saint murmurs. He moves us to the ground, so he’s sitting with his back against a tree, cradling me in his arms. “I never knew Wren, but she loved you. She would have wanted you to thrive and be happy, not to spend your life chasing her ghosts. It won’t bring her back, baby. I’m sorry. Nothing’s going to bring her back.”
He’s right.
I sob against him, my grief as sharp as a blade in my chest. I know it in my heart that Wren would be the first one telling me to let my anger go and move on. She was always better than me. Kinder, wiser. She wouldn’t want me consumed with rage and vengeance, and certainly not on her account. My whole life, she looked out for me, and wanted only the best for me.
And now she’s gone forever.
I’m not sure how long I sob in Saint’s arms, but finally, my tears ease, and I suck in a ragged breath, exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, self-conscious as I lift my head. I try to wipe my face, certain I’ve just smeared mascara all over his very expensive tux. “I must look like a mess.”
“You look beautiful.” Saint drops a kiss on my forehead, and I manage a hollow laugh.
“Liar.”
I take another breath. My head is aching from my crying, but I feel different now. The tight grip of grief in my chest has loosened, and I feel lighter somehow, as if a weight has lifted.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “I guess… I needed to hear that.”
Saint smooths my hair back from my face, “I know what it’s like to grieve,” he says softly. “And do whatever the hell you can to avoid that grief. After Edward died, it felt overwhelming. Like if I looked at it head-on, or allowed myself to feel the full force of the loss… I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”
“What did you do?” I ask, gazing up at him.
He gives a rueful laugh. “Anything I could to block out the pain. Whiskey. Women. God knows what else. But in the end… I knew, I was just punishing myself. And Edward… he deserved more than that from me.”
I nod slowly. “It just feels wrong, that I’m here to experience all of this, and she’s not.” I look out across the water, glittering in the sinking sun. It’s an unseasonably warm night, with the breeze dancing around us, and the sound of birdsong, and the distant music from the party. Beautiful.
“You can’t hide from life,” Saint says softly. “Denying yourself the things you want won’t bring Wren back.”
“I know,” I breathe, leaning back in the safe warmth of his embrace. “I just don’t know how to do this. To let go of the anger and move on with my life.”
“Start small,” Saint suggests. “What’s the one thing that makes you feel likeyou? The woman you were, before all this happened.”
I know he’s probably expecting me to say something like ‘reading my favorite novel’, or ‘eating great pizza,’ but instead, I twist around so I’m straddling his lap, and kiss him, hard.
“Wait—” Saint draws back, frowning. “Tessa, you’ve just had an emotional moment—”
“You asked what made me feel like me,” I say, gripping his shirt collar. My emotions are whirling inside me, and everything feels like it’s shifting beneath me. I need him. I need the release only he can provide. “You do, Saint,” I look at him, run my fingers over his cheeks, and feel the contours of his face. “When you’re touching me… When we’re together… That’s when I feel most like myself. Like nothing else exists in the world, just you, and me, andthis…”
I kiss him again, deeper this time. Saint sounds a low groan against my mouth, and then he’s kissing me back, slow and sweet, taking his time. Heat burns, rising through my body as his hands slide over my body, and his tongue delves, deep between my lips to tangle with mine in a sensual dance.
I hum with satisfaction, already sinking into the glittering rush. He shifts me in his lap, and I feel his cock, hard against me. Anticipation flares.
I rock back on my heels. “I want you…” I whisper softly, nuzzling at his neck. Breathing in the scent of him. “I want totasteyou…”
Saint curses under his breath. “Tessa…”
I push him gently back, moving down his body to undo his belt, and peel away his pants. His body responds as I tug down his zipper, and I feel a sharp thrill of anticipation. His cock is straining against his briefs, and I tease him through the fabric, closing my hand around the hard length of him and pumping slowly.
Saint groans. “Fuck…” He’s sprawled back now, eyes hooded with pleasure as I run my fingertips over the bulge. I meet his gaze and give a flirty smile.
“Now you’re the one who needs to keep quiet,” I murmur, as power begins to buzz in my veins. This is what I need, to lose myself in the rush of pleasure. To forget that the real world exists. “You don’t want anyone to hear…”