The Saint Jones [Completed]

chapter 79: Make Love

I clear my throat and look away, the power in his eyes were taking over me. He says nothing and so do I. So I walk past him, holding the towel tightly around me.

When I enter his room, the bathroom door closes behind me. I cannot stop the sigh from escaping my mouth and I cannot stop myself from looking back, just to be sure that he is really in the other room.

There is no time to waste, I cannot feel this way anymore, either I accept my mistake or I blame myself to death. It is because of me, it is all because of me and yet, I did not have the courage to tell him sorry, a simple sorry for acting so weird and distant towards him.

I sigh and sniff in the liquid that threatens to run out of my nose. Then I wipe my body quickly with the towel before he gets out. When I am dry everywhere, I grab my undergarments and put them on while my head is dancing in all the senses.

I should stop, I should accept my fate and talk to him. We cannot live like that, no couples can live like that. My selfishness must be swallowed at the bottom of my throat and down my stomach. But above all, I must not be afraid, whatever is going to happen will be in the hands of fate and God.

I grab my top and is about to put it on when the bathroom door opens, revealing a half naked Sether, blue towel wrapped around his hips, so low that I can see his delicious abs and lines. His eyes settle on me, on my body for a moment, then he clears his throat, but it sounded more like a deep throat groan.

I clear my throat and avert my eyes from such masterpiece because I can feel myself drooling at his sexiness. I look back at what I was supposed to do instead of looking at him, then I put my top on, pushing it down, covering my belly.

My eyes are straight in front of me, looking at the wall behind his bed. The atmosphere between us is tense, in the worse way. This is stupid, we are like two teenagers who just got into a fight, being stubborn and mad as hell. He is probably thinking that I do not want to speak with him, and that was the case earlier, but it was not because I was mad at him, I was just mad at myself.

"You told me to put your jeans on the bed, here they are," I tell him, gesturing towards where his black jeans are resting.

He looks up at me, his hands on the side of his towel, ready to take it off.

"Thanks," he says rigidly.

"Welcome."

I look away again, the back of my neck is growing hotter and hotter by each seconds. I grab the fabric of my sweatpants and was about to put it on, but his sudden movement is distracting me. I do not need to look directly at him to know that he is naked now, I can see the towel on the edge of the bed, hanging down.

"I also gathered your boxers together, they–they are... here," I tell him, his eyes are mingling in mine.

Holy cowboy, put your clothes on.

"Thanks," he says again and walks towards the other side of the bed where I placed his clothes. He does not bother walking naked around me at all, and I do not bother staying half dressed in front of him either.

He bends down and shuffles through his piles of boxers that I have piled together, giving me the best view ever. His behind is sexier than mine and than any other men I have ever seen on the sexy movies I have watched. It is well toned and a reward for the amount of time he probably spent in the gym.

"Sether–..."

"You wanna talk now?" He asks before I can say more.

I blink and look away because it is so fudging hard to look at him in the eyes. This is silly I know, but when you have a man who hold such power in his eyes only, you cannot do much than surrender. The tone of his voice was so rough and hard, holding anger and I cannot even raise my voice at him, because I am the culprit here.