I Wish You Were Mine (Harbor Village #2) Read Online Jessica Peterson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Harbor Village Series by Jessica Peterson
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
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I chose a path, goddamn it, and I want it to work. I want to love school. I want to feel excited about a future in education. About any future at all where I have gainful employment—a real job, with real benefits like health insurance and a retirement plan.

Instead, I feel dead inside.

But those are dark thoughts for a Monday night, and I know my parents are exhausted from their day and don’t want to hear me moan and groan about the admittedly cushy position I’m in.

“All right, y’all, I’m gonna go.” I manage a tight smile. “I love you both.”

“Just let us know when we can visit,” Mom singsongs. “We always love an excuse to come to Bald Head.”

“Y’all come out anytime. I can’t wait for you to meet Katie. Mom, she’s hilarious. All day today she wore this koala bear costume that was just, really, the cutest thing ever.”

“Aw, she sounds like a doll. I’m glad y’all are getting along,” Dad says. “Stay in touch, you hear?”

“And get some rest so you can study and ace that test!” Mom adds.

When we hang up, I set my phone beside my laptop on the table. As much as I appreciate my parents’ advice, I’m more of a night owl than a morning person. I know if I procrastinate, I’m going to end up having stress dreams all night about failing this exam or not setting my alarm.

Nose to the grindstone it is.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my textbook and bring my laptop back to life. I am going to ace this thing.

If not for me, then for my parents.

I make it to ten thirty before I need toothpicks to keep my eyes open.

I haven’t made nearly enough progress, and I still have several more chapters I need to review before I can go to bed. Oh, I’m also supposed to finish that damn paper.

Caffeine. I need it, stat.

But a quick inventory of my kitchen yields a coffee maker but no coffee. Making a mental note to run to the Maritime Market grocery store tomorrow, I grab my phone and head for the house, not bothering to put on shoes.

The air outside is still warm and humid, the darkness so complete I can see every star when I glance at the slice of sky visible between the crofter and the house.

For a second my steps slow. It’s beautiful out here. What I wouldn’t give to be able to sit on the porch right now and stargaze.

But there’s work to do, and I want to be up early to help Katie get ready for her last week of camp. So I grab the spare key from its spot underneath a drain spout—Tuck texted me a picture of where he hides it—and scurry inside the house and up the stairs to the kitchen, careful to keep my footsteps quiet so I don’t wake anyone up.

The kitchen is silent. I’m grateful Tuck left on the light above the sink; it’s all the illumination I need to turn on his big fancy coffee machine. While the machine heats up, I set my phone on the counter and search for a mug. Going up on my tiptoes, I find one in the upper lefthand cabinet beside the dishwasher.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I thought I was being robbed.”

My heart plunges into my stomach at the growl behind me. I spin around, pulse screaming, to see a hulking mass standing in the shadows.

It’s Tuck.

Correction: it’s shirtless Tuck, holding up a golf club. The thick, chiseled mass of his torso is on full display. Tattoos and tufts of dark blond hair everywhere. He’s wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and literally nothing else.

No underwear. Even in the shadows, I can see the outline of his dick through the thin fabric.

Holy shit, he’s huge.

I don’t realize I’ve dropped the mug until it shatters at my feet. The sound rattles my already precarious nervous system.

“Oh, God, I’m—Tuck, I’m so sorry, I was just—I was falling asleep studying, and I couldn’t find any coffee in my kitchen, and, um . . .”

My gaze moves up, up, as Tuck lowers the golf club and steps into the light. He towers over me, a glowering mass of heaving chest and green eyes.

That smoky, evergreen scent rises off his bare skin. I can feel the heat radiating off him.

He’s so gorgeous up close it makes my stomach hurt.

His eyes flick to my chest. I remember a beat too late that I’m wearing my threadbare T-shirt and no bra.

Also, my nipples are hard. A fact Tuck very much seems to notice, because a muscle in his jaw tics and his nostrils flare when he says, “Don’t move.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I hope I didn’t wake up Katie.”

“She slept through a hurricane. She’s fine. Don’t move, or you’ll cut your feet.”


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