C L A R I S S A
He walked me to his bar. My cheeks heated up at the memories from last night. He saw more of me than any man had ever even bothered. Most men wouldn't spare me a single glance, only because I wasn't the most ideal of a woman. Why have me when they could have someone prettier?
When we entered the bar, I had expected Saint to grab a drink. His actions last night deemed me to question whether or not it was an everyday thing. It never graced the files that he had a substance abuse problem, but it didn't mean it was impossible. Based on the way his eyes lingered on the bottle of alcohol across the room, it was safe to assume that it definitely wasn't impossible.
Saint sat down in his seat. His eyes were studying me again. He was trying to find something out about me, I could
