The Saint: The Original Sinners Book 5 by Tiffany Reisz Page A

châteauand had a staff of ten people working for her. Even with the age difference we had more in common than my friend who’s my age who changes jobs and boyfriends every six months.”
    “I don’t have a château, only a house. A big damn house, but no one works for me. I did have an intern once, though. Unpaid.” She conjured one little memory and held it in the palm of her hand. She smiled at it, loved it a moment and then let it go.
    “Women and wine always get better with age,” Nico said.
    “I want to think that. I get richer with age anyway. I’m at the point where I have more money than I know what to do with.”
    “Buy more time to spend with me, maybe?”
    Nora narrowed her eyes at him.
    “Did an older woman teach you how to talk like that? Because, if so, I need her name and address to send her a thank-you note.”
    Nico grinned down at her.
    “Every woman I’ve been with has taught me something about women. How to kiss, how to fuck, how to dress. My first lover told me women are always watching. If you’re rude to the waiter, she sees and files that away.” Nico tapped his temple.
    “You had a good education.”
    “I want to learn everything from you, too. And everything about you.”
    “Everything?”
    “Everything.” He straddled her thighs and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “How you like being touched. How you like being fucked. How you like your eggs in the morning. How you like your tea at night. How you love to be kissed.”
    She raised her mouth to his, eager for more of his drugging kisses. When he kissed her and touched her, she could almost make herself believe he was the reason she’d run away to Europe and hidden herself in the middle of the Black Forest, where no one but Nico could find her.
    “I like being touched the way you touch me,” she said. “I like being fucked the way you fuck me. I like my eggs scrambled and covered in cheese. I like my tea like I like my men—hot, ready and in my hand. And I love the way you kiss me because it helps me forget why I’m here.” Her voice broke at the final words and Nico took her by the shoulders.
    “Can you forget?”
    “No,” she said, shivering. “I want to. I’m so angry it happened that I can’t even... I can’t breathe when I think about it.”
    “I was angry, too. Angry at everyone. Especially my mother. She moved to Paris five days after Papa’s funeral. Then I realized she was grieving, too. Being near his vines, his life’s work, reminded her too much of him. I never thought she really loved him. But then I knew. She couldn’t breathe, either.”
    “Help me breathe,” she said, feeling the anger like a vise around her lungs.
    He pulled her close and put her head on his shoulder.
    “Breathe with me,” he said. “Do what I do.”
    He inhaled deeply and pushed on her back with both hands. She forced air into her nose and held the breath.
    “Now push it out,” Nico said. Nora forced herself to exhale. “Good. Again.”
    With his hands on her back, he guided her breathing. In and out. Deep and long. A push against her back meant “breathe in.” A gentle slide of his fingers down her spine meant “breathe out.” After a few minutes she felt the fury and the panic subsiding.
    She felt dizzy with gratitude for Nico’s presence. She clung to his arms as he held her and kissed his neck.
    “Do you want me to make you come again?” he asked softly in her ear.
    “Yes,” she said without shame. “It will distract me, and that’s as much as I can ask for now.”
    Nico pulled the straps of gown down again, lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. Nora sighed and relaxed into the pillow. His tongue circled her areola while his hands held and warmed both breasts. She reached down to stroke him but he grabbed her hand by the wrist and pressed her hand over her head into the pillow.
    “My kind of game,” she teased as he pressed her down into the bed.
    “No games. I’m taking care