Page 103 of Broken Saint

My eyes shutter as a potent shot of desire fills my bloodstream.

“Colt,” Ella breathes.

“Not about me, Bombshell. I’ll meet you out there,” I say, pulling the door open and disappearing before she convinces me otherwise. Because let’s be honest, it wouldn’t take much right now to crack my resolve.

The second I get to the end of the short hallway, I find Matteo standing there like security at a club.

His eyes follow me as I move around him, but I don’t miss the grin on his face.

Clapping me on the shoulder, he tells me that he’ll let the chef know that we’re ready for our starters now. And without another word, he takes off.

I shake my head, a wide smile splitting my face as I find our table and retake my seat.

Reaching for my drink, I swallow two massive mouthfuls down, wishing like hell that it was something more exciting than soda.

The wait for her to return is agonizing, and by the time she emerges, looking as perfect and as elegant as when we first arrived, I’ve started to second-guess everything.

I was hoping to go in there and help get her out of her head. But what if I played it wrong?

“Bombshell,” I growl when she lowers herself to her chair and reaches for her drink.

Her expression gives nothing away, although I don’t miss the lingering heat in her eyes.

But then the most incredible smile curls at the corners of her lips, and she holds her glass out.

“Cheers, I guess,” she says, waiting for me to grab mine with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Cheers, baby.”

Lifting her glass to her lips, she drains the whole thing in one go, her eyes never leaving mine. Not once.

Oh yeah, I totally did the right thing.

I’ve found my Ella under all her insecurities and self-doubt. And something tells me that we’re going to have some serious fun tonight.

28

ELLA

“Wait,” I say, my face practically glued to the window as Colt parks his massive truck outside where I assume we’re going next. “You’re taking me to Paradise?”

He laughs but doesn’t respond.

“We’re going out, out?”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you dance anymore, Bombshell?” he asks, his eyes dark and hungry. They’ve been the same since he was eating me out, and something tells me that if I were to look down, I’d find other evidence that he’s still thinking about it.

Hell knows I am. Although not too hard, because I’m still very aware that I’m now walking around with no panties getting all hot and bothered over the man sitting beside me.

“I…I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “I can’t remember the last time I went out dancing.”

“Well, I think it’s time we end your dry spell, Miss Myers,” he teases.

“You’re quite good at ending those, hmm?”

His smile spreads, and the sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s the best freaking noise, and I had no idea just how sad my life was without it.

“I’m sure trying my best. Now…shall we?”