Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“How much did you pay for that ring you threw off the cliff like a madman?” Masters frowns.
“Way too much.” I smirk. I was going mad that night, without a doubt.
“You know she wants a baby,” Masters says casually as he sips his beer.
“What?”
“I heard her tell Bree the other day when they were in my kitchen. She was holding Henry and she said that she would love a baby.”
I frown. “She’s not mentioned anything to me.” Fear swirls in my stomach. The thought of changing the dynamics between us terrifies the fuck out of me.
“Why would she?” Seb snaps. “You won’t even fucking marry her.”
“You know why I won’t marry her. It has nothing to do with how I feel about her.”
“Does she know that?”
“She does know that.”
I watch her dance as my stomach clenches.
Marriage and babies… with Charlotte.
My biggest dream.
My greatest fear.
My true destiny?
Charlotte
Six weeks later
I wake to the feeling of Spencer curled around me from behind, and I turn my head as he kisses my temple.
“Good morning, Mr Spencer.”
I feel him smile against my skin. “Good morning, Miss Prescott.”
“It’s Saturday.” I smile sleepily.
He pulls me closer to his body and I feel his erection up against my hip. “My favourite day of the week. I get you all to myself.” His lips drop to my neck.
I look around the room. “Where’s Greyson?”
“Hmm. Who cares? Probably ripping up the sofa downstairs.”
I giggle.
We hear his little bell, and then something smashes downstairs. “Fucking cat,” Spencer mutters under his breath.
I laugh and climb out of bed. I throw my robe on and go downstairs to investigate. A pot plant has been tipped over and there is dirt everywhere.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to the naughty kitten as he rubs against my legs as if proud of himself.
“Greyson,” I sigh, assessing the damage. Spencer pretends to hate our cat, but I know he secretly loves him. Every time I come in they are snuggled up together on the sofa. I clean up the dirt, make us both a cup of coffee and then head upstairs. I walk into my room to find Spencer in the bathroom at the sink. I place the coffees down on the bedside and walk in to put my arms around him. I glance down his body in the reflection of the mirror, and I see he has an erection.
The man always has an erection.
I smile and reach around to stroke him, and I feel something. “What’s that?”
He turns to me and I look down. He has a red ribbon tied in a bow around his hard dick. “What in the world?” I laugh, this man kills me.
He smirks, with that mischievous look that he does so well. “You better unwrap your present.”
I giggle and bend to take him into my mouth. I begin to untie the bow when I notice a ring on the ribbon.
I frown as I stare at it. It’s a huge solitaire diamond sitting on a rose gold band. My eyes meet his.
“Marry me.”
“W-hat?” I breathe.
“Marry me, Charlotte.” He smiles.
“You tied my engagement ring to your dick and asked me to marry you with your dick in my mouth? Spencer Jones!”
“It was either tied to that or to your butt plug.” He shrugs casually. “And I wanted a story to tell our grandkids.”
I laugh out loud as he pulls me to my feet. “You are the craziest man I know.”
Our lips meet in a kiss. “Marry me, angel.”
Our foreheads touch. “That depends…”
“On what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I stroke his dick and widen my eyes. “Things.”
His eyes dance with delight, and he grabs me roughly and slides the ring onto my finger. “I’m asking one more time before I fuck you unconscious. Will you marry me, Charlotte Prescott?”
I kiss his lips with a huge smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now answer the damn question.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” I grin.
We smile broadly at each other; this proposal is just so Spencer.
“Good. Now get on your knees and finish what you started.”
Five years later
It’s 11:00 p.m. and I’m watching my beautiful man walking around the living room with our daughter in his arms as he tries to console her. Amelia is eighteen months old, teething, and in a world of pain.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, daddy’s here.”
If you thought Spencer Jones was swoony before, you should see him with a daughter. He worships the ground she walks upon.
I’m heavily pregnant with our second child, sprawled on the sofa, defeated by exhaustion. It’s been a long week.
This teething thing is tough. We’ve had no more than three hours sleep on any given night… and it’s about to get tougher.
“Babe,” I whisper.
“Yeah, angel.” He sits down on the couch at my feet. “Look how tired mummy is,” he says to Amelia as he rubs my feet.