Saint

I watched my angel come down the basement steps, a small bag in her hand. She moved quietly, cautiously, like she was tiptoeing into enemy territory.

The morning light caught in her hair, and I felt that familiar pull in my chest. She was too good to be here with me, and I knew it. Yet, there she was.

She set the bag down and started pulling out little treasures—my breakfast, I guessed.

Cereal in a Ziploc, a cup, some spoons, and a bottle of water. Her hands were shaking just slightly, betraying the nerves I could see in her eyes. She was careful and meticulous, like she had rehearsed every move in her head, but I could see through it. I could see through her.

“Here,” she said softly, holding out the cereal. Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant.

I snatched it, barely able to contain myself. I was starving—so hungry I could’ve eaten three of these already.

I shoved the cereal into my mouth, the crunch and the cool milk hitting my stomach with a satisfying relief. Finally, finally, something to calm the gnawing emptiness inside me. My gaze flicked up while I chewed, and I caught her staring at me.

The moment our eyes met, her face flushed like she’d just been caught breaking a commandment.

She quickly looked down, hands twisting the hem of her skirt nervously. “You… you have something on your mouth,” she whispered, barely above the sound of the cereal crunch.

I smirked, leaning back slightly. “Do you mind cleaning it up for me, princess?” The teasing was effortless. I loved watching her squirm under my gaze.

Her eyes widened, and I thought she might melt on the spot. “Oh… okay,” she whispered, stepping closer.

She bent carefully, trying to wipe whatever was on my lips. I held her hands gently, my thumb brushing the back of her hand. I couldn’t resist a playful move and pressed my lips to her fingers briefly, a soft, teasing touch—enough to make her freeze and flush red all over. She pulled back like I’d shocked her with static electricity.

“That… that was… inappropriate,” she stammered, her voice small but fierce, like she wanted to scold me but couldn’t.

I chuckled softly, smirking. “Oh, my angel is flustered. I like it.” I saw her cheeks heat further, the little tremble of her lips as she turned away slightly. She reminded me of sunlight spilling softly through a window—warm, hesitant, but impossible to ignore.

“Look… you have to feel better soon so you can leave, okay?” She said firmly, though I could hear the hesitation in her voice. “I don’t like whatever… whatever this is between us.”

I shrugged lazily, still smiling. “If you say so,” I murmured, enjoying the way she kept trying to assert herself while clearly betraying the tiniest hint of curiosity, or maybe amusement.

She began to rise, as if to leave, but then paused. The corner of her mouth quirked up just enough that I caught it, and she asked, softly, almost shyly, “What if I was… inexperienced? Would you still—like… me?”

Jesus. That caught me off guard. I blinked, just for a second. “Why do you even ask that?” I said carefully. My voice was low and steady, trying not to betray the slight tension twisting inside me.

She shrugged, looking like a little bite had been taken out of her confidence. “Come on… answer me,” she said, her tone sharp now, though there was still a quiver in it.

I leaned back against the bed, scanning her as she lingered. “You have a little fire in you, I see,” I said, my smirk softening. “Come here.”

Her steps were cautious, slow, and deliberate. I could see her debating every step, calculating the right distance to keep herself in control. I motioned for her to sit closer—on the edge of the bed near me. “Sit here,” I said lightly. “Come on… just for a second.”

“No, no… I can’t,” she protested, arms tight to her chest.

I grinned, leaning forward, teasing. “You’re such a chicken, Evie.”

Her eyes flashed indignation, but she finally gave in, perching near me. Even with her skirt and modest clothing, I could see her curves in subtle ways, gentle, soft lines that my mind wanted to memorize. She shifted nervously, and I could see her heart racing in her chest.

“Don’t… don’t move,” I murmured, more to myself than to her. She flinched slightly, then relaxed when I didn’t do anything sudden.

“This is… wrong,” she whispered, voice tight. “What we’re doing here… it’s wrong.”

I smiled softly, watching her struggle between curiosity and conscience. I wasn’t a saint—not by a long shot—but there was something so human about this moment: the thrill, the tension, the near-touch of intimacy without crossing the line.

I reached out a hand, brushing her arm gently. The contact was enough to send shivers through both of us, electric and fleeting. She moved slightly closer, and our fingers brushed just enough to make her gasp softly, startled but not upset.

Her eyes met mine, wide and luminous, filled with the kind of honesty that made my chest tighten. “I… I…” she started, then shook her head, trying to pull away.

I held my gaze, my smile gentle. “Hey… it’s okay,” I said softly. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

Her lips parted slightly, nervous and unguarded, and I leaned back slightly, letting the silence hold us together.

She moved a little, brushing her hand against mine as she tried to reposition herself, and I caught the slight shiver that ran through her. Her reaction was innocent and genuine, and it made me chuckle softly.

“Oh, my… angel,” I murmured, shaking my head, partly in disbelief at the strange, new tenderness I felt. She flushed, clearly aware of the effect her small movements had on me, though I didn’t act on it inappropriately.

Then, as quickly as she had edged closer, she jumped up. “I… I have to go!” she said, stumbling back toward the steps. Her cheeks were red, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

I watched her go, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement. My chest felt tight, not from desire but from the intensity of the moment—the connection, the trust, the undeniable chemistry between us. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in my throat.

She paused at the top of the steps, glanced back at me, and I just smiled softly. Not the smirk, not the tease—just a gentle acknowledgment.

“Be careful, angel,” I said, voice low, sincere. “I’ll see you later.”

And then she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the cereal half-eaten, and a strange warmth in my chest.