Page 50 of Broken Saint

Reaching over his head, he finally drags his shirt off, revealing his incredibly toned and perfect body.

The exact opposite of mine.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he kicks his shoes and pants off, leaving him gloriously, shamelessly naked for me.

It’s not until he says that that I realize I’m hugging myself as if I’m about to shatter, all while hiding my belly and chewing anxiously on my bottom lip.

“C-could…could I get that drink?”

“My spunk taste that bad?” he jokes.

“No,” I say in a rush. “I just need…”a second to have a serious word with myself.

“Ella,” he growls as if he can see straight through me. “There’s a bottle of water on my nightstand if you need it so desperately, but there isn’t anything stronger in this apartment. I want you to remember this in the morning.”

I watch him with my heart in my throat as he presses his knee to the mattress and prowls toward me, his cock already hard for round two.

“O-okay,” I breathe as I’m forced to my back.

His lips find mine and he kisses me just like he did at the park. It steals all my thoughts and consumes every inch of me.

My hands take on a life of their own, roaming over his body, feeling how his muscles pull and ripple. The only thing better would be if I could see it, too.

His touches start innocent enough, keeping my nerves at bay, but as our kiss heats, he begins exploring my body, discovering all the bumps and lumps that never used to be there.

I fight my reaction to pull away and hide until he sits back and grips the bottom of my shirt, ready to pull it off.

Then I panic.

“Turn the light out,” I all but shout.

He rears back, his eyes widening in shock.

“Please,” I add, as if it’s going to make a difference. I can already see from the hard set of his jaw that it isn’t.

“Fuck that. You’re not hiding from me. Not now, not ever.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs my shirt again and drags it over my head.

“You’re beautiful, and your curves are…sinful.”

Closing my eyes, I swallow nervously.

Because that pause wasn’t because of my curves.

It was because of the scar that cuts across my belly.

My breath catches when something soft brushes over that imperfect skin. My eyes fly open in shock, and what I find causes a lump so huge to crawl up my throat that I find it hard to breathe.

“Colton,” I whisper as he kisses my scar, before tracing across the line with his tongue.

Desire unfurls inside me the second his eyes lift to mine.

I’m so lost in his dark orbs that I don’t notice he’s undone my jeans until he sits up and begins stripping them from my legs.

“Colt,” I whimper.

He might be okay with the scar on my belly, but my leg is an entirely different story.

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