Mr Garcia Read Online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: T.L. Swan Advertisement1

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I smile softly as our lips meet and my entire heart constricts.

This beautiful man.

I push the hair back from his forehead as we stare at each other. "You know, Sebastian, I happen to like you how you are."

He kisses me softly. "That’s just because you're fucked up."

I giggle. "Maybe."

He takes me into his arms and holds me tightly. He kisses my forehead before he rolls me away from him and spoons me from behind. For the first time since we met, there's no sexual tension between us. We’re just two people lying in bed together, ready to go to sleep.

I can't help but feel that maybe we just entered the friend zone, and there will be no turning back from here. A sadness begins to sink deep into my bones, and I really don’t know what will happen between us going forward.

I feel so close to him, yet miles away.

It's like his admission just put him into a precious glass box and I'm unsure of its strength—of what will make it crack. I'm not sure what to say to make it better. I'm not sure if I even want to know what he just told me.

And what does this mean for my heart? Because he's the first man since my husband that I have deep feelings for, too. Oh, the irony.

Life's a fucking bitch.

We both lie in the silence, lost in our own regretful thoughts.

My mind goes over the hurt that he must have suffered to have been affected so deeply. I think about him going through this all alone for so many years and my heart constricts.

I fucking hate her.

Like a force from above, I feel my protective instincts infiltrate my body.

Sebastian kisses my temple, and I melt into his arms.

I adore this man.

I've got your back, baby. You can lean on me.

I hear him open the connecting door into his room and pulling it closed behind him.

Waking up like this is lonely.

There's no good morning kiss. No sweet cuddles.

After the nights are filled with so much emotion, the mornings feel exceptionally cold.

Maybe he thought I was asleep and was trying not to disturb me.

I get up, put on my robe and go to the bathroom, and once done, I flick the kettle on. After everything that came to light last night, I wonder what happens next.

Do I push him or do I leave him alone?

I stare at the door between our rooms as I try to make my decision.

Fucks sake, why can't I just like a normal guy for once? A normal, boring guy who is really normal and really boring.

That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? It had to be a high-powered politician who has a 747 of emotional fucking baggage.

Ugg, this is just my luck.

I go over his words from last night. You make me want to be better. To get better.

He told me for a reason. He wants me to try.

I drop my shoulders as I steel myself. Okay, let's do this.

I make two cups of coffee before I open the door and walk into his room with them in hand.

He glances up. He's freshly showered, wearing in his navy trouser pants and his pale blue shirt, which is still open as he does up the buttons. I can see the ripples in his tanned torso.

My insides clench, he's one hell of a specimen "Morning." I smile.

"Hi." He glances up briefly as he does up his shirt. His eyes drop back down to his task.

"I made you coffee."

"Thanks. Just put it on the counter." He walks over to his wardrobe, takes out his tie and begins to tie it.

I drop to sit on his bed, unsure of what to say. "Busy day?" I ask.

"Yes." He throws his tie over his shoulder and walks into the bathroom in a rush.

I twist my fingers in my lap. I can hear him brushing his teeth.

Okay, so this isn’t ideal.

I look around his room, wondering what to do.

He walks back out and begins to pack his computer into his laptop bag. He seems annoyed.

"About last night," I say. “Can we talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about." He collects papers from his desk. "Just forget what I said last night. I'd been drinking."

I frown. No, he hadn’t. "What?"

"Just fucking drop it, April."

I stare at him, and I know that he's angry that he told me—that he revealed his weakness.

"You don’t have to be a dick," I say.

"And you don’t have to be dramatic and whiny at 7:00 a.m. Now, if you don’t mind, I'm getting ready for work."

I stand up in a rush. "Don’t be an asshole."

"Can I have some fucking peace around here?"

I pick up his cup of coffee. "I'm taking my coffee back. You don’t deserve it."

"I didn’t ask for it in the first place. I'm well aware that your coffee making skills are less than mediocre."


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