Made For Us (Made For #3) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Made For Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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“If you say a word,” Michael warns beside Dylan, and I roll my lips, trying not to laugh. “I will throat punch you on the ice.” The minute he says that, I spit out the laughter.

The Stanley Cup comes out, and Cooper skates over as the team's captain. He shakes Paul’s hand as he announces the Dallas Oilers are Stanley Cup Champions.

He takes the Cup, and slowly every single person gets their chance with it. I’m not even going to lie. I did a quick turn and then turned to look over to see if Penelope was here.

I see her finally standing behind the bench, holding on to Abigail’s hand. “There he is.” Abigail points at me.

Making my way over to her, she walks onto the ice where the carpet is, the whole time holding Abigail’s hand. As soon as I get close enough, Penelope jumps into my arms and wraps her arms around my neck. “You did it, Dad,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders, and I can’t help the tear that falls down my cheek. “I want you to know I would have been proud of you, no matter what.”

“That is good to know,” I tell her as I lean in and kiss her neck as she squeals, then put her down on the carpet.

I make the mistake of looking at Abigail. God, she has to be the most beautiful human person out there. Every single time I’ve seen her, it’s like she gets even more beautiful, which is impossible. “Congratulations,” she says, and I make another mistake and lean down to hug her. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I take in how perfect she feels for me. I also know that she is so out of my league this crush on her has to be the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. I kiss her soft cheek and look into her green eyes. “You were amazing,” she says with a big smile on her face.

I’m about to say something to her when I see Xavier at the corner of my eye get down on one knee. Abigail gasps and holds my arm, squeezing it. “He’s really doing it,” she declares, and all I can do is look back at Abigail and then Penelope. I am having the second happiest day of my life, and with the exact people I want beside me. Too bad I don’t have the balls to admit that out loud.

CHAPTER THREE

ABIGAIL

“When you said you had a couple of boxes,” my brother, Christopher, huffs, carrying a box inside the house and placing it in the middle of the family room, “what you failed to mention was you have a fuck ton of boxes.” He puts his hands on his hips, looking over at me as I stand in the kitchen. He’s in gym shorts and a Dallas Stanley Cup T-shirt. He’s wearing one black flop and a white flop on the other foot, and I don’t even think he’s noticed that he’s a mess.

“I’m moving into my house.” I try not to laugh at him as he looks up at the ceiling and breathes in and out. “What did you think I had… three boxes?”

He looks back at me, but because he’s wearing sunglasses, I can’t see where he’s actually looking. “Christopher,” he mimics me, “can you come help me move a couple of boxes?”

“One,” I say, holding up my finger at him, “you were drinking, so the fact you think you remember anything I said is comical.” He shakes his head. “Two, I said can you come and help me move into my house.”

“Why the hell wasn’t this done when you moved to town a month ago?” he asks, taking off his sunglasses and then, seeing how bright it is in the room with all the curtains opened from the wall-to-wall back windows leading to the backyard, puts them back on. He walks over to the steps on the right side and sits down on the middle one, putting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head in front of him.

“How the hell was I supposed to know Dallas would be in the playoffs for eighty-five years?” I throw up my hands and walk over to the fridge, opening it to grab myself a bottle of sparkling water. “Don’t bother renting movers,” I mimic every single man in my family, “the whole family is going to be there. We can help you move.” I unscrew the white cap off the green bottle hearing the hiss of gas. “The whole gang of us can come and help you.” I take a sip of the cool bubbly water, mumbling, “Bullshit.” Right after

“Hello, hello, hello,” Gabriella comes through the door shouting. Her hair is piled on her head, and she’s wearing black yoga leggings with a matching sports bra and her own sunglasses on the top of her head. Following is my cousin, Matty. His actual name is Matthew, but because our family has no originality, they just keep naming us after family members, so we have called him Matty to not confuse anyone. Who is also carrying a box that says towels. I try not to laugh at him since I’m sure there was a heavier box outside, but he took this one instead. He too is wearing the same thing that Christopher is wearing, just the same color shoes.


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