Page 71 of Broken Saint
And I was right.
That accident was just the first in a series of events that would ensure my life continued on a downward spiral.
A pained sigh falls from my lips as I cover the scar on my stomach with my hand, my eyes still searching to see what Colt sees.
I can’t lie, I do feel better standing here right now staring at myself than I did in Letty’s bathroom only yesterday. But I’m still a long way from liking what I see.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Colt slip into the room, but I sure as hell do when he steps up behind me and covers my hands with his bigger ones that are now both resting on my belly.
My breath catches, my eyes shooting up to his as the warmth of his equally naked body burns down my back.
With his eyes locked on mine, his lips brush the shell of my ear. “You’re beautiful, Ella,” he whispers.
Taking my hands, he pulls them away from my body until he plants them on his rock-hard ass, totally exposing me to both of us.
His fingertips trail up my arms, making me shudder, and goosebumps erupt over every inch of me.
His lips find my neck, leaving a trail of scorching kisses until he’s at my shoulder, his eyes still on mine.
I gasp when one of his big hands wraps around my throat in an incredibly possessive move. His other hand continues to trace lines over my skin.
Both of my nipples pebble as he circles my breasts, desperate for more attention. But he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he moves down my belly, over my scar, and to my thighs.
Finally, his eyes drop, and mine quickly follow as he kicks my legs apart.
“Look at your thighs, Bombshell,” he demands, giving me little choice but to stare at the result of what we did not so long ago glistening on my skin under the bright spotlights above us. “That’s all the evidence you need for how incredible this body is. Well, that and maybe this,” he says, rubbing his hard dick against my ass.
Heat pools between my thighs, and despite the soreness, my need for more is almost unignorable.
“I could spend all day worshipping you and it wouldn’t be enough, Ella. You’re magnificent. Even more beautiful than you were the first time I saw you.”
Dropping my head, my gaze lowers to the floor in shame.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating that my insecurities bleed into this, into us.
I startle when his fingers grip my jaw, forcing me to look up.
His eyes are dark and burning with determination when I meet them.
“You have nothing to apologize for, okay?” His voice is so firm, so demanding that I have no choice but to nod in agreement.
“Good girl,” he praises, making me shudder. Those words are like my kryptonite. But only if they’re said by him. I’m pretty sure if Chad said them, I’d have wanted to punch him in the face. “You’re going to find her again, I promise.”
There’s another apology right on the tip of my tongue—he can see it, too—but I manage to swallow it down.
He shouldn’t have to be dealing with my bullshit. His life is already busy and stressful enough without adding my baggage to it.
“Now, I’m going to clean you up because you, Miss Myers, are fucking filthy.”
I yelp when he suddenly sweeps me off my feet, carrying me over to the bathtub like a groom would his bride before he steps into the water and lowers us down.
“Never used this tub,” he confesses once we’ve both been swallowed by bubbles. “Never really got the appeal.” His hands wander beneath the surface, caressing my body as we settle into position with his thighs around my hips and my back resting against his front.
“You mean the mighty Colton Rogers doesn’t take a daily bubble bath?” I mock. “You’ve just ruined all my fantasies.”
He groans. His big body vibrates behind me as the noise erupts from his throat. “You fantasize about me, Bombshell?”
My cheeks blaze red hot, but I force that shy girl down and instead, harness the old me. The one who wasn’t ashamed of her sexuality or taking life by the balls.