Page 47 of Broken Saint

With one hand locked on her hip, I slide the other under her shirt and palm her breast.

“Colton,” she cries, her release surging forward.

And the second I tug the cup of her bra down and pinch her nipple, she shatters.

It. Is. Fucking. Beautiful.

I don’t stop teasing her until she’s come back to earth and opened her eyes.

The intensity that crackles between us when our eyes collide is powerful enough to steal my breath.

Releasing her, I climb to my feet before pulling her up with me.

“What are you?—”

“We need to get out of here before I do something I regret,” I confess, bundling up the blanket with little care and making a really shitty job of stuffing it back into the bag.

I don’t think anything of what I just said until I turn around and find tears in her eyes.

“Shit, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Nothing. You didn’t—” She shakes her head. “Just take me back. This was a mistake.”

She turns to walk toward the parking lot, and I panic.

“Wait,” I say, reaching for her wrist and tugging her back into my body. I study her, memorizing Ella the woman, noting all the changes in her.

Realization slams into me as I repeat my previous words in my head. Dipping low, I let my lips brush her ear, loving the way she shudders against me.

“What I’d regret would be fucking you out here and not taking my time to make you feel incredible.”

All the air rushes out of her lungs.

“You deserve more than a quick outside fuck in a park, Bombshell. You deserve to be worshipped all fucking night.”

After pressing a kiss to her cheek, I lace our fingers together and direct her back to my truck so I can do exactly what I’ve just promised.

13

ELLA

Being with Colt makes me feel better than I’ve felt in a very, very long time.

The way he looks at me, the way he touches me. The chemistry and desire that crackles between us…I thought it was a myth, something I’d imagined from better days that never really existed.

But one touch, one kiss, and it all came surging back.

It was real. And it’s still burning just as brightly between us. Or at least it does for me. And if how hard he was between my thighs was any indication, then it did for him too.

That or he wasn’t lying about it being a while for him and he’s just desperate…

“Stop it,” Colt instructs as we pull into a basement garage in downtown Seattle.

It’s fancy and exactly what I expect from him.

“You’re overthinking everything, and it needs to stop.”

“I can’t help it,” I whisper.