Page 142 of Broken Saint
As if he knows I’m looking at him, he visibly stills, his muscles tensing.
I swear, time stands still as he begins to turn my way.
My heart pounds as the side of his face is revealed, my stomach knotting with a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and desire.
I’m so lost in him that I don’t register who he’s talking to. The only thing I can think about is looking into his eyes, seeing the part of him that only I get to experience and discovering what he thinks of how I look, of the dress I chose tonight.
But that is all shattered when someone bellows, “ELLA BELLA.”
He moves faster than I can compute, darting around the table as everyone in the restaurant turns to stare.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, a second before Weston Rogers’ massive body collides with my much smaller one.
I’m engulfed by his arms and practically smothered against his chest.
“I missed you so fucking much, girl,” he shouts excitedly as the room begins to spin.
“West,” I screech. “Put me down.”
Laugher fills my ears. The sound of it, the deep rumble of familiar male voices, makes my heart swell so large I’m sure it’s about to burst.
But West doesn’t let go.
“Dude, will you fucking share?”
If it’s possible, my smile gets even wider as I spy Brax over West’s shoulder.
“Never was very good at sharing,” West mutters before passing me off to another very strong set of arms.
The scent is different but equally as familiar and comforting despite the years since I last saw him.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Colt barks, amusement laced through his tone. “Can you please get your hands off my girl?”
“Your girl,” West muses. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear you admit.”
“Do we really need to go there already?” Colt sulks as he successfully pulls me from the safety of Brax’s arms and into his own.
When I look up, my eyes lock with a mesmerizing dark and stormy pair. Their intensity rocks through me. But there’s something different about him tonight, a different kind of energy that I haven’t experienced for so long.
A smile so wide spreads across Colt’s face that his eyes crinkle at the edges.
He’s happy.
So fucking happy right now that it causes a lump to crawl up my throat and tears to burn the backs of my eyes.
“Fuck, you look beautiful, El,” he says, his eyes dropping to my floral fitted dress and all the way to my Saints-blue pumps.
“Thank you.”
The second his lips find mine, whoops and hollers sound out around our group.
“Look at my big bro, all grown up and shit,” West teases.
“Why did I agree to invite him to this?” Colt mumbles against my lips.
“Because you love him,” I remind him.
“Fucking asshole,” he scoffs.