Made for Romeo (Made For #4) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Made For Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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The minute he pulled up to the hotel, the valet guy had my car door open. He tossed me the car keys, and I walked to the Mercedes waiting for me. I thought about calling her the whole time, but I could hear my therapist’s voice in my head telling me I needed to give her time. My phone pinged the minute I pulled up to her house, and when I looked down and glimpsed her name, I literally thought she was going to ask what the fuck I was doing there. But instead, she asked me if I was up. I was going to sit in the car the whole time until she asked me where I was, then all bets were off. I got out of the car, and here I am, standing on her porch in the middle of the night.

The sound of the lock fills the quiet night as the door pulls open, and she stands there in her dress. “Hi,” I say, holding up my hand awkwardly, not sure what else to say.

“Were you waiting outside the whole time?” she asks, looking over my shoulder at the car I borrowed as soon as I got back to the hotel.

I can’t help but laugh. There is no way I can even lie about it and say I was in the neighborhood because it’s almost midnight. “I was making sure that you were okay,” I say, and the urge to wrap my arm around her waist and take her for another kiss rushes through me. I can still taste her lips on mine.

She folds her arms over her chest. “That sounds very stalkerish.” I clap my hands together and can’t help but throw my head back and burst out laughing, the sound drowning out the crickets. Something that I’ve missed is laughing with her. Even from before, everything was just so easy.

“You are beautiful,” I compliment her, putting my hands in my pockets to stop from touching her. “I promised myself if I ever got you to talk to me again, I would tell you all the time.”

She smiles shyly at me and then glances down before looking back up at me. “Come in,” she invites, moving away from the door to let me step in. I take one step into the house and my head tells me to move in, but instead, I stop in front of her and bend to kiss her lips. “Did you promise yourself that you would just kiss me whenever you pleased?”

“As a matter of fact,” I say, my hand coming up to hold her chin between my thumb and forefinger, “I did.” I give her one more kiss before I let go of her and let my hand slide down and into hers, bringing it to my lips. I kiss her fingers that are linked with mine.

Before I release her hand, I stare into her eyes, hoping she can see everything I’m feeling. She steps forward to close the front door, and I wait for her before we walk back down the hallway to her family room. “Do you want something to drink?” she asks, and I can tell she’s just as nervous as I am.

I shake my head. “I’m good,” I tell her as she walks into her living room. The same room I walked out of the last time. My clothes suddenly feel so much tighter on me. The only thing I did when I left the gala was take off my tie, which is now in my jacket pocket.

She moves to stand in front of me, far enough from me that I won’t be able to reach out and touch her. I have to wonder if she is doing that because she knows if she is close enough, I’ll have the need to reach out and touch her. “We need to talk,” she says as she stands there in front of me, looking more beautiful than ever. Every single time I think she can’t get more beautiful, and every single time she is.

“I’m ready,” I tell her, knowing I’m ready to fight for her. I’m ready to fight for us. I’ve been waiting for this moment for the last six months. I just hope I don’t fuck it up. “I mean, I’ve been ready for a while.” I laugh nervously. “What I did,” I start to say and make sure that she sees me, hears me, “was inexcusable and unforgivable.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “There is nothing I can say that will justify it. But I’ve been in therapy.”

She shakes her head. “What?”

“It took a month after you left for me to reach out to talk to someone,” I admit to her. “I didn’t know who else I could talk to, and I didn’t want to tell my parents because I was afraid my mother would come and shoot me in the ass herself.” She laughs at this and then looks down. “I needed someone to point out why I did what I did. I thought about even turning to my sister, but she probably would have put my face on a billboard in the middle of Times Square, telling everyone what an asshole I was.”


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