Page 41 of Broken Saint

“Stop that,” Colt demands after he’s killed the engine and turned his all-seeing eyes on me.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“You are, and it’s making you frown and look sad.”

My mouth opens, although I’m not sure what I can say to that, but thankfully, he throws his door open and barks for me to wait.

In only seconds, he’s pulling my own open and stepping into the space in front of me.

“Need a hand down, Miss Myers?” he asks, holding his giant paw out like a gentleman.

“Who are you and what have you done with Colton Playboy Rogers?”

His smirk makes my insides get all fluttery. Sliding my hand into his, sparks shoot up my arm that feel so foreign after so long that I almost don’t recognize them.

Tugging me to the edge of the seat, he wraps his other arm around my waist and lifts me out effortlessly, pinning me against the planes of his hard body.

He holds me there as if I weigh nothing more than a feather, and for the first time in a really long time, I forget about all my hang-ups with my body and just embrace his strength.

“Colt,” I gasp as he slides me down his body, allowing me to feel everything. And I meaneverything.

My core clenches with the realization that it’s my body that’s causing him to react that way.

“You’re just as beautiful as ever,” he whispers, holding my eyes captive with his as my feet finally hit the ground.

I swallow, my body yearning to reach up and take his lips.

Stay strong, Ella. Don’t fall headfirst into hold habits because he said a few words to make you melt.

“Where are you taking me, then?” I ask, forcing myself to move in the opposite direction to what my body craves.

“Just wait. I think you’ll love it.”

The second he catches up with me, his fingers twist through mine, sending that bolt of electricity up my arm again.

Risking a glance up at him, I can’t help but smile at the smirk on his face.

“Why do you keep looking at me like you don’t recognize me?” he asks, sensing my attention.

“I’m just wondering if maybe I don’t.”

“I’m just me. Like you’re just you.”

I want to argue, but I keep the words locked down as the lights of the city appear before us.

I’ve already allowed him to see enough of my insecurities tonight. I’m meant to be here remembering the old me, not drowning in the new, muted version of myself.

The old you would have claimed that kiss, a little voice says unhelpfully.

We walk for a few more minutes before Colt takes us off the main track and up into the trees.

“You could have warned me you were going to bring me out here to murder me in the woods.”

He chuckles.

“I think we both know that I’m more of a lover than a fighter,” he growls.

“Oh, I don’t know, you’ve had your moments,” I say, thinking of a few times he used his fists to get his message across when we were in college.

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