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She pushed herself up to stare at him. “You’re telling me you get off on being unselfish.”

He was definitely a trap.

“Not at all. What I want from you is entirely selfish.”

Riley groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “I have literally never talked this much during or after sex. And that doesn’t make any sense.”

Saint let out a quiet laugh. “Communication is important.”

“Clearly.”

He continued to pull his fingers through her hair, and it lulled her back into that warm darkness. This was ridiculous. And so, so comfortable.

“You’re going to ruin me for anyone else. My expectations will be too high,” she whispered.

“Ri, the current bar for your expectations is disturbingly low,” he said and smoothed her hair over her shoulder.

“No, it’s not.”

She started to drift in the dark and didn’t hear what he said next. “What?”

“Nothing. Go to sleep.”

Riley tried to huff at being bossed around.

She fell asleep anyway.

Chapter 17

Saint

Saint wrapped his hand tighter around the steering wheel as Riley wiggled deeper into the passenger seat, happily eating. He’d convinced her that driving her downtown was not a problem—that it was on his way, even though it wasn’t—and they’d stopped at her place so she could get ready for work. She’d even let him buy her breakfast.

She sat right there, inches from him, and he forced his hands to stay on the wheel and not touch her.

“You didn’t have to do this.” She glanced up through lashes thick with mascara and took a bite of her sandwich. “But thank you. It’s pretty good.”

“Coffee isn’t breakfast.” That’d been a fun conversation this morning.

“You don’t have to rub it in. I’m educated now.” She shot him a look. Dark possessiveness bubbled through him, and he tightened his hands on the wheel. He wanted some guarantee she was in this as much as he was, even though he knew it was an impossible ask.

His feelings weren’t her problem.

He eased out of the narrow lane and rolled up the window, quieting the birdsong and the drive-thru speaker.

“I love presents,” she announced, looking at the sandwich in a way he wanted her to look at him.

“You’re very easy to please,” he said. Hell, he was easy to please. Jesus.

“You have no idea,” she replied around a mouthful.

He smirked. “I have some idea.”

Riley’s face snapped to his, and he watched the colour bloom on her cheeks. He laughed as she scowled at him before she went back to eating.

They crawled forward in morning traffic, and his fingers tapped out a rhythm on the wheel.

“What about you? You a gifts guy?” She folded the sandwich wrapper into a crisp square before she tucked it away in a pocket of her purse.