Conor Read Online A. Zavarelli (Boston Underworld #6)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
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“Wow.” I can’t tell if I’m more moved by the story or the emotion on Conor’s face. “That’s really sweet.”

“We Irish tend to believe in good luck charms, and this will be ours.” He slides the ring onto my finger, and I examine the stone, noting that it’s new. But the original art deco style of the band is untouched.

“I made a few minor changes,” Conor explains. “I hope ye like it.”

“Like it?” I take his hand in mine and squeeze. “I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me. I don’t even know what to say.”

He offers me a lazy smile. “It was long overdue. I want the world to know ye’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Oh, God, I need to get you a ring.”

He pulls another box from his pocket and wiggles it between his fingers. “Already got that covered, love. Would ye care to do the honors?”

I open the box and inspect the ring he bought. A simple black titanium band. I couldn’t have picked something better for him myself. I slide it onto his ring finger with some difficulty, considering his huge knuckles, and we both laugh.

“Thank you, Conor. This means so much to me.”

His fingers brush the length of my arm, making me shiver. “Thank you for being my wife. I like to fancy myself the luckiest man on this planet.”

My lips graze against his. “I think we’re both the lucky ones.”

He kisses me, and it’s the kind of kiss that turns my insides all gooey. It’s deep and possessive and intense, a complete symphony of all that Conor is. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of kissing this man. Making out in parked cars or sneaking into dark corners to frantically tear at each other’s clothes. He makes me feel like a teenager, love drunk in the best possible way.

“Shite,” Conor grunts. “Ye got me all worked up.”

He adjusts the erection in his jeans, and I smirk as my fingers drag over his zipper. “You know, there’s a solution for that.”

His eyes darken, and five minutes later, he’s fucking my mouth like the caveman he is. He fingers me beneath the curtain of my dress, and we both come violently. I’m still riding the high when I collapse back against his seat to catch my breath. I finger comb my hair in the mirror and wipe away the mascara that leaked from my eyes while Conor watches.

“I guess we should probably go inside, huh?”

Conor is quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Aye.” He nods. “There was just something else I was thinking about. It might seem silly to you, but it would mean a lot to me.”

“What is it?”

He reaches out and toys with the ring on my hand. “You took my last name, and I want that for Archer too. I want him to know that even if I’m not his real father, I’m always going to be his dad.”

My heart squeezes as a million different emotions detonate inside of it. Before I can even make sense of what’s happening, I’m wiping away my own mess of tears. “You want to adopt him?”

“Aye,” Conor answers. “We’re a family. We should all have the same name. I don’t want him growing up with a blank space on his birth certificate or thinking that he’s not my son, because he is in every way but that one.”

“That’s incredible…” I say. “I can’t think of anything he’d like better than to call you his dad.”

Conor recognizes the worry in my eyes, and he doesn’t gloss over it. “But?”

I stare down at our hands, unified, and everything about it feels so right. There’s no longer a question in my mind about my relationship with Conor or if he loves Archer. But I’m still a mother, and I’m always going to worry.

“I guess I’m just nervous,” I admit. “I’m honored to call you my husband and a father to Archer. You are who you are, and I love you for that. But I want Archer to have a normal life. I don’t want him growing up to—”

“Become a gangster,” Conor finishes for me.

“Yes.” I shrug.

“I want the best for him too, Ivy,” he says. “The kid’s smart. He can do anything he wants. Go to school, become an accountant or a doctor. Whatever. It’s up to him. I’m not going to force his hand on anything.”

I meet his eyes and only see truth there. It’s the reassurance I needed. I already know Conor will protect us. He will keep us safe, and he will give Archer a good life. Maybe it’s crazy for me to accept that I’m married to the mob, but I don’t care. This is what I want. It’s what Archer wants. And for the first time in my life, I’m doing what really feels best for us.


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