Page 132 of Broken Saint

Yeah, he’s in the media a lot with women. But usually, he’s standing next to them, whispering in their ear or wrapping his arm innocently around their waist. It’s the stories that usually give away his extracurricular activities. That or the girls selling tales of their sordid nights.

A shudder rips through me as I think about what some of those included.

It used to hurt, reading them, having little choice but to assume they were true. But being here now, listening to him talk about his life—about the women—I’m starting to understand just how exaggerated many of them were.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Ella. I need you to reply. I didn’t send that to freak you out. I just thought you needed to know before any more speculation comes your way. Before Sunday.

Ella: I know. I appreciate the heads-up. I can’t wait to see you.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Same, girl. Colton might need to watch out, because there’s a chance I’ll steal you for myself.

I smirk, fondly remembering all the teasing between the Rogers brothers back in the day.

Ella: You had your opportunity, Rogers…

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: No one ever stood a chance once you met Colt, El. You know it too.

Ella: Maybe I chose the wrong brother…

“I don’t fucking think so.”

My heart jumps into my throat as the loud voice fills the air around me.

I jump to my feet, my cell flying across the room in the process.

“You’re home,” I announce, rushing around the couch and running right into his arms.

I forget about what he just read over my shoulder and his angry voice and slam my lips down on his.

Instantly, he relaxes.

His arms wrap around my back, pulling me tightly into his body.

A low growl rumbles in his throat as his mouth opens, accepting my tongue and my kiss.

“Missed you,” he mumbles.

The scent of food wafts around me, and my stomach growls. But I’m not as interested in that as I am this man.

“Whoa,” he says, catching my wrist just before my fingers slip under his waistband.

“Feeling horny, baby?”

Lifting my hand, he presses a kiss to my palm before placing it over his heart.

Mine thuds against my ribs as I consider everything I’d planned to tell him tonight.

Nerves slam into me out of nowhere, threatening to buckle my knees.

His brows pinch, sensing that something is wrong.

“Ella, what?—”

“What did you get for dinner?”

A smirk twitches at his lips as he releases me and spins around to grab the bag.

“I got you your favorite, and I’ve got something a little healthier.”

---