Page 105 of Broken Saint
“Not tonight, Bombshell. I’m treating my girl to all the benefits of being a Saint.”
Before I know what’s happening, we’re halfway up the stairs.
The security guys at the top already have the ropes pulled back for us.
“Okay, so this isn’t the out, out I was expecting,” I confess as we turn into the main part of the VIP bar.
Everything is black, chrome, and glass.
It’s stunning.
And as I glance around the people who are up here, I realize that they are, too.
The music might be pumping through the air like it is downstairs, but everything else is calm.
There are people in booths and standing at tables, drinking and talking, and in the far corner, there is a dance floor with a crowd of people enjoying themselves.
It’s bizarre. I’ve spent the last few years in my small hometown in Texas. There was barely anywhere to go drinking and dancing on a weekend, let alone a weeknight.
But here, it might as well be a Friday night.
Just like Colt intended, it takes me right back to times gone by.
In only minutes, he has me at the bar, and in front of me is what was always my drink of choice.
Vodka cranberry.
Something else I haven’t had for quite a while.
Picking it up, I pause with it halfway to my lips.
My skin heats with Colt’s attention, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. What he did to me in the bathroom earlier was epic. But it was also the most perfect tease. It was a promise, and I’m already getting impatient for him to follow through on it.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like that anymore?”
I shake my head, a smile playing on my lips.
“Thank you,” I whisper shout, ensuring he can hear it over the music.
A deep V forms between his brows as his eyes bounce between mine. “You’re welcome,” he says, sounding almost confused. “But it’s just a drink.”
“I know. I’m thanking you for all of it.”
“Trust me, taking you out really is no hardship. There isn’t anything else I’d rather be doing right now.”
I quirk a brow at him.
Honestly, when we left the Italian restaurant, I really thought he was going to floor the gas pedal and get us back to his apartment in record time.
I might not know Seattle all that well, but I figured out not too long later that we weren’t heading to his fancy penthouse.
Ignoring his water on the bar, he takes a step closer and dips low, letting his lips brush the shell of my ear.
“That’s a lie. There are plenty of things I’d rather be doing. And all of them involve you being naked and us being surrounded by fewer people.”
A violent shudder rips down my spine, making me wobble in my crazy heels as the picture he paints slams into me.
“Just a few?” I tease.