Page 248 of Broken Saint
His studies me closely. His eyes are dark and full of emotion and honesty. “I will. I fucking promise I will.”
“Me too,” I say, dragging his hand from my neck and copying my pose. “I trust you too.” And then I drag it lower, over my stomach.
He sucks in a deep, ragged breath as his eyes follow.
“I’m going to be a dad.”
When his eyes return to mine, I find a mixture of fear and excitement staring back at me.
“You’re going to be incredible.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confesses.
“And you think I do? Pretty sure it’s one of those things you learn on the job. Just ask Kane and Letty.”
His eyes widen in panic before his hand dives for his pocket.
“What?”
“I promised I’d call them and let them know how you were this morning.”
“Later,” I say, plucking his cell from his hand and placing it on my vanity. “I need you first.”
Taking his hand again, I tug him in the direction of the bathroom.
“No, El. We’re not?—”
“You’re right. We’re not. But I’m also not showering alone. I’m exhausted and?—”
“Anything,” he blurts. “I’ll be anything you need.”
My smile starts small, but I can’t contain it and it spreads wide across my face.
“Help me shower, then hold me while I nap, yeah?”
“Couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.”
My movements are slow, and the second Colt turns from putting the shower on and notices me struggling to remove my zip-up hoodie, he quickly takes over.
He’s so gentle with me it makes a lump form in my throat.
“In you get,” he says, softly swatting me on the ass before holding my hand so I don’t slip as I step into the shower.
His actions are so at odds with how I know him to be, and I love it. I love seeing this side of him. A side that is exclusively for me.
In record time, he strips down to nothing and leaves a pile of discarded clothes behind as he attempts to squeeze himself into the shower with me.
It’s tight, but we make it work.
Colt does everything, allowing me to stand there and enjoy having his hands on me.
His touch is innocent, but he still leaves a trail of tingles wherever we connect.
And I know I’m not the only one affected, because his hard length is happily nestled against my ass as he washes my hair.
Absently, his hips thrust back and forth. Not to get off. There is none of that. He just…he can’t help it, and I don’t want him to.
Once my hair is done, he starts on my body, ensuring every inch of me is fresh and sweet smelling, not a trace of the hospital left behind.