Page 61 of Broken Saint
Colton’s hand as he slapped your clit just before you fell at some point last night.
After he watched me ride him, both of us coming simultaneously, he carried me to the bathroom so I could clean up because I couldn’t feel my legs, then he put me back in his bed and told me not to move. He walked out, leaving me with the vision that is his solid ass as he crashed around in his kitchen, before returning with soda and snacks.
All it did was remind me just how close to perfect he is.
We ate and drank, still naked and still in post-sex bliss, until he threw the empty plate to the floor and rolled over and devoured me instead.
And I can confirm that rounds three and four were just as mind-blowing as one and two.
I lost count of how many orgasms that man gave me, but I know for a fact that it was more than I’ve had in the years we’ve been apart.
What a depressing thought.
He’s given me more in one night than I’ve given myself in years.
But as amazing as it was, the bright light of day brings my harsh reality front and center once more.
I’ve run away from my problems and landed in Colton Roger’s bed.
Déjà vu at its finest.
It also brings a hangover and what I’m sure is going to be a lot of pain when I try and move.
With a sigh, I reach for Colton’s hand, hoping that I can slide out from beneath him and leave before he wakes.
It’s a dickish move, but the fear of him waking up and regretting everything that happened last night, everything he said, is too real.
There is no way I can handle him looking at me in the way I’m scared he will. Last night, he treated me like “old” Ella.
If morning brings him new clarity and he sees me for who I really am now, then…no. I can’t do that.
I just manage to lift the dead weight of his arm enough to be able to slide out when a deep groan comes from behind me. Before I know what’s happening, his arm is back in place and I’m pinned to a very hard, very hot body.
“Get those thoughts out of your head right now,” he demands, his voice raspy from sleep. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Heat surges through me at the unspoken promise.
I should be done. I should be exhausted, utterly spent. I’ve no idea why the thought of him taking me again makes desire pulse deep inside my pussy and my clit demand attention.
“I was just going to pee.”
“Liar.”
I gasp.
“I know you, Bombshell. Better than you give me credit for. And right now, you are freaking out and trying to escape in case I wake up and regret last night.”
“No, I?—”
“That was exactly what you were doing,” he interrupts before I can lie again.
I fall silent, all the words that were on the tip of my tongue lost.
“Talk to me, Ella,” he says, his voice softer now. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
“Colt,” I warn.
“I hate that look in your eyes, El. You think that just because you’ve grown some curves, you’re not desirable anymore. You think that just because you have a few marks I—men—no longer want you.”