Page 91 of Broken Saint
He’s a gentleman with his touch, but his need to be the very opposite burns bright in his eyes.
“I did,” he says firmly, his brows pinching as if any other answer would be ludicrous.
“Colt,” I breathe.
“Ella,” he sighs, leaning forward to rest his brow against mine. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. And not just today. Every single day since the last time I saw you.”
The weight and honesty in his words utterly floor me.
I can’t lie; there was a part of me that was terrified he’d leave me earlier today and forget about everything that had happened between us. I knew it was unrealistic. But I can’t banish the anxiety that’s grown within me over the past few years. That little voice of insecurity over every aspect of my life has become too loud to ignore.
But the second he walked in and saw me, I knew my fears were unfounded.
“Who are you, Colton Rogers?” I whisper, not really meaning to allow the words to come out loud.
His lips curl before a deep rumble of a laugh falls from his lips.
“Right now, Bombshell, I have no idea.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not,” I confess.
“Seriously, Rogers. Take the woman out on the date she deserves,” a deep, booming voice comes from the house.
“Jesus. Our friends are a pain in the ass.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I think they’re pretty great. In fact, I forgot how awesome they actually are.”
“Yeah,” he muses before ducking closer to steal a chaste kiss. It’s nowhere near what I need, but it’s a start.
Stepping away, he closes the door and races around the hood of the car, flipping Kane the bird as he goes.
I’m still laughing, feeling almost high just from that one brush of our lips when he slides into the driver’s seat.
“You okay?” Colt asks, glancing over suspiciously as he starts the car while I continue laughing like a maniac.
“Honestly, I have no idea. It feels like I fell asleep and woke up in The Twilight Zone.”
“Nah, babe. You woke up in paradise.”
“Oh, there he is.” I laugh.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, backing out of the driveway, glancing over every few seconds.
“The Colt I remember. Nice line.”
If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but he blushes. Actually freaking blushes.
“It’s not a lie. It’s true. Or did I get it wrong when you were screaming my name last night?”
“Colt,” I chastise.
“Oh shit, yeah. Or this morning.”
“Christ,” I mutter, squirming in my seat.
“Keep that up, Bombshell, and we’re not going to make it to the restaurant, let alone what I have planned for after.”
“After?” I ask, more than a little interested in how the mighty Colton Rogers plans to wine and dine a woman.