Vegas, Baby: The Complete Series by Fiona Davenport
6
Angelique
My brain couldn’t quite wrap around how much had changed since Vince brought me to the stadium for his bout. I’d walked in there dreading the time I was about to spend in a tiny uniform, but Saint had changed that when he threw his robe over me and carried me out of the Octagon. I’d been scared for my safety, and he insisted he’d keep me safe. I’d been a virgin who’d never had a guy give her an orgasm, and he’d changed that too—in a mind-blowing way.
While I was still feeling the high from my release, Saint led me out of the locker room and through a back hallway where we didn’t see anyone. I stared at him from the passenger seat of his truck as he pulled out of the parking garage, not sure what to think about everything. The silence surrounding us was thick, and I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a nice truck before.”
“You like my other girl?” Saint’s lips curved up in a grin as he winked at me. “I just got her last month.”
“Your other girl?” I echoed in confusion.
His grin widened, and laugh lines bracketed his dark eyes as humor shone from them. “The Ford F-250 Super Duty Platinum might be a big fucking truck, but I still think of her as my girl.” He patted the steering wheel and added, “She was my only one until today.”
It was hard to believe this sexy older man was referring to me as the girl in his life along with his fancy truck with all the bells and whistles. Saint was a freaking world champion in mixed martial arts with huge endorsement deals. He could get any woman with a snap of his fingers, but for some reason, it seemed that I was the one he wanted. I wasn’t going to talk him out of it, though. Not when he was the answer to my prayers. It was too early to tell if he was going to be around for the long haul, but I was going to go with the flow for the moment and see where this thing with Saint led me. It couldn’t be any worse than the position I’d been in with my brother.
When Saint pulled up to a huge house about fifteen minutes later, the degree to which my living situation had changed became much clearer. Even back when our parents were around, I’d never lived in anything but dingy apartments or rent by the week motels. Saint’s garage was bigger than the entire place I’d shared with Vince up until a few weeks ago.
I was already intimidated before we stepped foot into the actual house, but he didn’t seem to notice as he led me through a quick tour of the downstairs before we circled back to the kitchen. It looked as though it could’ve come straight out of a magazine with marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and shiny pots hanging from a rack over the island. I was afraid to touch anything, so I stood there awkwardly as Saint moved with confidence.
“I’m going to make myself a recovery drink to tide me over while I make dinner.” He pulled a container out of the pantry and set it on the counter next to the sink. “Do you want one, too? It doesn’t have anything that’ll hurt you. The ingredients are organic. There are carbs, proteins, electrolytes, antioxidants, and some immune system boosters.”
It had been way too long since I’d had a decent meal, so I wasn’t about to turn down anything. Not even if I wasn’t too sure about the stuff he was mixing into cold water. “Sure, I guess I could give it a try.”
He poured me a glass of water and dumped a scoop of the mix in, stirring before handing it over to me. I took a small sip and smiled when the berry lemonade flavor hit my taste buds. “It’s pretty good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He put the container back in the pantry and headed over to the fridge. “How do you feel about grilled chicken breasts, brown rice, and zucchini?”
It sounded like the best meal I’d had in a long time. “I like all of it.”
He flashed me a grin before pulling the chicken and vegetables out. I finished off my drink as he started to get things ready. When it was gone, I walked over to the sink and rinsed out the glass. “Can I help?”
“Sure. You can be in charge of the zucchini,” he offered before heading outside to start the grill to cook the chicken.
As I cut the vegetable into chunks, my stomach let out a loud growl right as Saint walked back inside. His attention zeroed in on me, and his dark eyes narrowed. “When’s the last time you ate?”
My eyes went wide, and my cheeks heated as I bit my bottom lip before I answered his question. I was embarrassed to admit how long it’d been, but the look he gave me made it clear he wasn’t going to let this go. “I had some toast this morning.”
“Motherfucker,” he bit out, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as his nostrils flared. “Are you telling me you’ve been hungry this whole damn time?”
I nodded, and tears filled my eyes. I dropped my head and squeezed them shut, jumping a little when he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around my back to pull me into his chest. “Relax, angel eyes. I’m not mad at you.”
“Okay,” I sniffled into his shirt.
“I’m pissed at myself for not thinking to ask sooner, and at your brother for not taking better care of you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “But don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
He led me over to the stools lined up at the counter and got me settled on the one at the end. Then he stalked over to the fridge and pulled out some hummus and carrots. After dumping about half the bag of carrots onto a plate, he spooned up a huge portion of the hummus and brought the plate over to me. “Snack on this while dinner is cooking.” He followed that up by grabbing a chunk of cheddar cheese, cutting half a dozen slices, and plating them up with a row of crackers. “And this.”
When he headed back to the fridge a third time, I figured he’d keep going until there was more food in front of me than I’d have any hope of eating. “Stop. This is plenty. I need to save room for dinner, too.”
“You sure, angel eyes?” he asked, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Yeah.” I smiled at him as he walked over to where I’d been chopping the zucchini earlier to finish the task. “Hummus is one of my favorites. I could eat it every day.”
“Good.” Some of the tension eased from his body. “I’ll be sure to stock up on it so you’ll always have some.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled before shoving a carrot in my mouth, so I didn’t do something stupid like ask how long he thought he’d want me around.
Saint’s dark eyes were filled with anger as he asked, “Were things bad enough with your brother that he didn’t make sure there was food in the house?”
“Worse, I guess.” I shrugged, my cheeks heating in embarrassment again. “Vince blew through our rent money last month, and I’ve been staying on friends’ couches since then. They’re cool about it, but I already feel like a mooch. So I’ve been careful about what I eat until I could figure out how to save up enough to get my own place.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Saint slammed his palms against the counter hard enough that I would’ve worried about him damaging it if they weren’t made of marble.
“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, Saint. It’s only been a few weeks,” I hurried to explain.
“Michael,” he corrected.
My brow wrinkled in confusion since I wasn’t following the direction our conversation had suddenly turned in. “Pardon?”
“My full name is Michael St. John. Saint is a nickname,” he explained. “But everyone else uses it, and you’re special. I’d like you to use my name instead.”
“Michael,” I repeated softly with a shy smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to hearing it from you often.” He brushed a kiss against my cheek. “But for now, let’s table any talk about your brother since he’s my problem. Not yours.”
“Okay.” My eyes practically devoured him as much as my mouth did the snacks while he finished making our meal. He kept our conversation light over dinner, and I was grateful. Today had already been heavy enough, and the distraction of being able to talk about nothing important made me feel more comfortable by the time we were done.
The long day combined with too many restless and uncomfortable nights left me exhausted by the time we finished cleaning up the kitchen. “You ready to head to bed?”
“Yeah.” I yawned so big a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye.
“C’mon.” He tugged on my hand to lead me upstairs.
The bedroom we went into was huge, with a California king bed and decorated in muted, masculine colors. It even smelled like him, all dark and delicious. “Is this your room?”
“Yup.” He nudged me toward the en suite bathroom. “Use whatever you’d like while you get ready for bed. I’ll grab you a different shirt to wear.”
“This one’s fine.” The shirt was more than fine, actually. It was soft and felt as though I was wrapped up in Saint’s embrace. I wanted to keep it forever. Which reminded me of something I should’ve remembered hours ago. “Hey, my backpack is still at the stadium. Could you ask your security guy friend to hold onto it, so I don’t lose everything in there?”
“Will do.” Saint’s response was a low murmur through the door, but it was enough for me to know he had the situation covered.
I found an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and used his soap and toothpaste. Since I didn’t have my bag, I was stuck with the bottoms from the ring girl uniform instead of panties. At least I could strip out of the top so I would be a little more comfortable. When I was done, I felt super nervous about what was going to happen next. After the explosive chemistry between us in the locker room, I figured I wouldn’t make it through the night with my virginity. But I was wrong. After he finished up in the bathroom, Saint climbed into bed next to me, wrapped me up in his strong arms, and cuddled me to sleep. It made me fall for him even harder.