He’s not half-wrong. “Well, what’s the point of training my ass if you’re not going to use it?”

“You want me to use you?”

I nod, lust creeping through my system at the prospect of St. Clare fucking me. I’m not sure why the whole idea of it is such a turn-on when I’ve always been fine being the one doing the fucking, but I’m almost obsessive over it. “You have supplies in here?” I ask, dreading the thought of it not happening again.

“I do.” He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth and bites down enough for a short spike of pain. “And a condom.”

“We need a condom?”

“Yes.”

“But …”

He runs his nose up my cheek. “But what?”

“I sort of … I just …”

“Tell me.”

“I like the thought of you making me all messy.”

St. Clare groans and rolls his hips, steely hard cock grinding against mine. “Next time.”

“Promise?”

He pulls back, looking me dead in the eye, and the way that bright blue pierces me is addictive. “In case you haven’t gotten the message, I … I care about you. I keep wanting more. I don’t know what that means yet, but all I know is that something feels intrinsically off without you in my life. I’m not done here. I want more, for however long you want this to keep going.”

Hearing St. Clare break this down and give voice to what I’ve been feeling makes my chest balloon with happiness. “Aww … pookie.”

He blinks. Frowns. “No.”

“But that was so sweet.”

“We’re not pet naming. This is sex, Perry.”

There’s no way I’m interested in him pulling back now. I flip us, rolling on top of him so this time I’m the one pressing him into the mattress, all the long lines of his body fitting perfectly against mine. “This is more than sex, and you know it. I’ve done the just sex thing. I’ve been with people who aren’t interested in anything more than what I can give them physically, but I’m so much more than that. I know I can be. Let me look after you and be sweet to you and maybe fall for you a little bit. I want the sex and the emotions and to look at you and know that I have my own person who’s safe and home and all mine. I think you could be that person.”

There’s a war going on behind his eyes that takes a minute to settle. “You’re putting a lot of faith in someone who’s never had a real relationship.”

I touch his ear and then my shoulder again, and slowly, like I knew it would, his lips fight the inevitable smile.

“We match,” he says.

“We do.”

He swallows thickly. “Yeah. I think I could be that person too.”