Page 147 of Broken Saint

The second she’s on her feet, West pulls her in for another hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll be the one wiping the floor with your man here.”

She giggles happily, and after she’s hugged Brax, she returns to my side and wraps her arm around my waist.

“Come on then, number forty-two. You need a good luck kiss before heading for your beauty sleep.”

With her small hand locked in mine, I tug her from our group and head toward the front desk.

Hiding behind a potted plant, I pull her into my body and wrap my arms around her waist, holding her close.

“This rule sucks,” I sulk.

I’ve never really given a shit about Coach’s rule to sleep alone in a hotel before home games as well as away ones. But suddenly, it seems like the worst idea in the world. Although, I totally understand his reasoning. If I had my girl with me tonight, I would not be well rested and ready for training in the morning.

“It’s only one night,” she says, a slight slur to her voice.

“But you’re buzzed. We could have so much fun.”

Her tiny hands slide up my chest. “And we’ll have so much fun tomorrow night,” she promises.

“How did I make it years without you, Bombshell?” I ask absently as I study her features. Her mesmerizing honey eyes, her full lips, the dimples that appear in her cheeks when she smiles.

“You were waiting. We both were. Deep down, we knew our time was coming.”

“After the season, I’m taking you away,” I say sincerely. “You name the place, wherever you want to go, and I’ll book the tickets. We’ll stay for as long as you like, do anything you want. Just the two of us. Make up for some of that lost time.”

She sighs, her body going limp in my arms.

“Sounds incredible, Colt.”

“I mean it,” I say, dropping my head to rest my brow on hers. “I want everything with you, Bombshell.”

Pushing onto her tiptoes, she brushes her lips against mine, kissing me way too deeply and passionately seeing as we’re only a plant away from being caught. Not that I really care. The press can snap photos of me handing my heart and balls over to Ella every day of the week, for all I care.

“Okay, love birds,” Luca says smugly. “Time for bed, Rogers.”

“Fucking slave driver,” I mutter, flipping off our quarterback behind her back.

“You’ll be there tomorrow?” I ask, sounding way more vulnerable than I expected to.

“Colt,” she says, reaching up to wipe some of her lipstick from my mouth. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world. And I’ll be right there after too, ready to celebrate.”

“For the love of god,” Luca complains before taking matters into his own hands and dragging us apart.

“Love you, Bombshell,” I call as I’m dragged into the elevator.

“Love you too, forty-two,” she calls, making me grin like an idiot as the doors close on her.

“Fuck,” I breathe, tipping my head back and closing my eyes.

Life is so fucking good right now. I never want it to end.

38

ELLA

The second the doors close, cutting me off from Colt, I stumble back into the wall.