Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Not a life jacket,” he combats. “A flashlight.”
I pluck the card. “And here, I thought I was your lamppost.”
“Flickering out lamppost.”
My deep laugh rumbles my chest. I pluck the perched card off the bed and flip it open. Eraser marks smudge paper, and I can tell he retraced the pencil that exists with ballpoint pen.
He must’ve written and erased a dozen lines before settling on what exists. My eyes brush over his handwriting, his words.
If you’re reading this, it means we’re now married, and the sky didn’t fall in. We didn’t die before we could slip rings on each other. No doomsday or curse or hateful entity stopped us or separated us. It means you’re now Farrow Redford Keene Hale, and I can wake up knowing you’re mine forever. Thank you for giving the guy who has the world all the parts that he’s never seen or felt before.
I love you.
P.S. if this is too damn sappy, trash it.
- Maximoff
I’m never throwing this fucking card away. My love for Maximoff constantly overwhelms me. I inhale and I glance back at him. “It’s extremely fucking sappy.”
“Great, burn it—”
“It’s mine now.” I slip the card in my back pocket.
Maximoff drinks me in and he unbuttons his shirt. “Why are you so far away?”
My muscles contract, and with a lengthy stride, I reach him in seconds and hold his jaw with two hands. He disintegrates under my touch.
I tighten the grip, and he kisses me, our lips melding with passionate force. We snap together, pulses drumming. Desire boiling. Our strengthening hands and exploring mouths burst with power and love.
I reluctantly tear back with a short breath. The bodyguard in me isn’t shut off, and this leftover thing is going to nag me.
He wets his stinging lips and watches me walk backwards. I unbutton my black shirt, and I scope out the candlelit suite.
Maximoff gives me a hard look like I’m unnecessarily edging him. “Where are you going, man?”
“Still impatient as hell.” I smile and peer into the marbled bathroom. Clear.
I glance out the red-brick terrace. Moonlight dances over the celestial waters, and three domineering rock formations, the Faraglioni, project out of the sea like pillars.
Clear.
I latch the terrace doors, locked, and I draw the drapes closed. When I return to Maximoff, he has his cellphone out, brows cinched.
I frown. “Something happen?”
“I just got an email from our lawyer.” His shoulders constrict, standing rigid. “Scottie’s having a parole hearing next week, and our lawyer is pretty positive the court will shorten his sentence. He’s going to get out of prison way sooner than we thought, Farrow.”
I rub my mouth. “Shit.” I’ve wanted to wait to tell this other fucked-up thing to Maximoff. At least until we were back in Philly, but he deserves to hear this now. “Donnelly’s dad called me.”
“What, when?”
“Two nights ago.”
Maximoff has this toughened concern on his face. Fortified. “What’d he say?”
I run my tongue over my molars. “He implied that Scottie would be willing to give up parental rights for a price.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“No shit.” I expel a breath. “I’m not even completely sure they’re after money. Could be drugs or both.”
I wish Donnelly’s dad made that phone call while he was in prison. It would’ve been recorded. Most of the time, he’s careful with his wording. But he was really fucking blunt.
Maximoff stares far off at the wall. “So Donnelly’s dad is now involved in this mess.”
“We had a feeling he already was,” I remind him. “All we can do is take Scottie to court.”
His eyes narrow on me. “I’m hiring the best damn lawyers in the country. I’m not letting Ripley live with someone who’s using him.”
I nod and look him over, in love with Maximoff all fucking over again. We understand that we might lose the fight for this baby. He might not be ours in the end, and it’ll be devastating. But Maximoff has to try, with everything in his soul.
And I’m not giving up hope.
“We’re,” I correct him. “I’m right by your side.”
He yanks me close, and we kiss, slower. Strung with deep emotion that cradles and hugs. More forceful as our hands clench. He grips my hair, and I slide my palm across the back of his hot neck.
Fuck.
Tendons pull taut in my sweltering body. I nudge his lips apart in a sensual kiss, and an aching, rough noise scratches out of his throat. His gaze screams, love me, fuck me, never leave me.
Breath catches in my lungs, and we slam together, speeding up. Our tongues wrestle, and I rip his button-down open. He tears the sleeves off my arms.
Unclothing each other at a rapid-fire, forceful pace.
Our mouths welded, I undo his slacks and yank them down his muscular legs. Maximoff pulls my pants off, and I slow again as my fingers brush over his elastic waistband.