Free-Form (Free #1) Read Online Xavier Neal

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Funny Tags Authors: Series: Free Series by Xavier Neal
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
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Tugging at my long-sleeved shirt is done on a high pitched, “I packed in a hurry!”

“Me too,” he impishly pokes back. “It’s how my floaties got left in Hawaii.”

His snarky retort is followed by a small laugh that encourages me to rethink the question I asked.

He’s naked because he’s in the bathtub.

The place a person should be naked.

A place I should so not be with him right now in this state.

My next question is probably worse than the first. “But like why are you wet?”

His head angles to one side in confusion.

“Er…Why are you in the circle thing that has the water with the bubbles?”

“The bathtub?”

Embarrassment heats my face during my frantic nodding.

I know what it’s called!

I’m not dumb!

He just makes me dumb!

Or feel dumb.

Or forgetful.

Or too distracted by what might be a clover with the Irish flag colors on his inner thigh.

“Do I make you nervous, June Bug?”

“You make me flustered!”

Arrogance resumes residence on his face. “Is it just me or all men whose bath time you barge in and interrupt?”

My hand sassily slams itself on its hip. “I’ll have you know, I’ve only done it with you.”

Tucker wets his lips in excitement over the unintended innuendo.

“Er…for you.”

More amusement pumps through his bright gaze.

“To you.” Frustration flares a second time forcing me to squeak, “MotherofMonaLisa, why is talking to you so hard?!”

He helplessly grins wider.

Yup.

Time to start looking for a new job.

Perhaps one washing windows at a local art gallery?

The pay is probably shit but at least I won’t constantly be tripping over my words and body in front of the grandson of mega billionaires who is probably one himself.

“Have you ever seen the Mona Lisa in person?” Tucker casually asks as though we’re sitting at a bar rather than him in a bubble bath.

“That’s gonna be a no,” I instantly answer with a deep sigh. “I’ve only left the state twice and never left the country. Going to The Louvre is on my someday list. Seeing the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo have been a must for me since I was fourteen.”

“They’re absolutely classic pieces,” he swiftly states, “however, I prefer Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte in comparison to The Louvre if we’re talking big museums.”

“Ohhhhh,” my body thoughtlessly melts onto the edge of the tub near his feet, “I’d love to go to Naples! Is it true they have the best thin crust pizza on the entire planet?”

“I don’t know about the entire planet since I’m still mapping a good hunk of it, but in my personal experience?” His wet locks bounce around as his head does. “That shits hard to beat.”

Intrigue has me sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.

Geez, I cannot even imagine what it would be like to jet all around the world whenever you feel like it just to experience…whatever you feel like experiencing.

Food.

Culture.

Love.

I’d kill for a job that would let me travel further than one end of the city to the other.

Perhaps in my next life.

“While I don’t have any problem talking pizza or paintings, something tells me, that’s not what you actually came in here for.”

Huh.

What did I come in here for?

Unexpected vibrations in my hand promptly provide me with the answer as well as send my cell flying out of my grip and into the space between his legs. His legs that are braced against the edge of the whirlpool tub, meaning the device most likely landed near a place I have no business thinking about let alone phone fishing near.

Is it really too much to ask to catch a break before I’ve even had coffee?!

Tucker flashes me another arrogant smirk. “Want me to get that?”

Nope.

There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to survive doing this for ten weeks.

I’ll be lucky if I don’t need a new job by the end of the day.

Chapter 4

Tucker

I’ll admit it.

There are definitely worse things than having the PA with an amazing fucking rack – the PA you didn’t ask for but still appreciate – discuss in great detail Art Nouveau while driving you around the city you hate for great takeout.

Take out not dine in because after two consecutive days in the same space you’re somehow even more a flight risk now as opposed to when you landed.

What’s worse?

Plenty of shit.

Like not knowing where in the world I wanna go next.

Or not knowing why I find myself wanting to tuck the aforementioned brown skinned goddess into my backpack to take her with me.

I’ve never been the type to want a travel companion.

Fuck, half the fun of traveling for me is meeting new people, hearing new stories, yet there’s this internal shift happening, like the paint of her soul is trying to bleed and blend into mine, that’s insisting I bring her along for the adventure.

Introduce her to local musicians.

Bartenders.

Artists.

Explain foreign food.


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