Southern Storm Read online Natasha Madison (Southern #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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“That is what we are going to do. Fill whatever house we live in with love and memories,” Beau says, his voice soft. “We’ll make a home.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Beau

She is quiet the whole way up to the cabin and keeps her head turned, looking out of the window. After I told her that I would live anywhere with her, she went quiet. We pull up to the house, and I look around. “When we were driving up,” she says, “I wasn’t sure what to expect since it is so dense with trees.”

I shut off the truck and look at what Casey calls his cottage. “Only Casey could have a secret hideaway house that is brand new.”

She laughs, getting out of the truck. “It’s so pretty,” she says, waiting for me to come around the side of the truck.

“He said that there is a lake right behind the house, but I don’t know what he’s talking about.” I look at all the trees that surround this house. “Let’s see inside.”

She follows me up the steps, and I take out the key and open the door. We walk in, and it smells of pine wood right away. We take a couple of steps into the house, and I see the whole back wall is floor-to-ceiling windows. “I found the lake,” she says, pointing out the windows at a huge lake. We walk past the kitchen on the left side, and I do a once-over, seeing that all the appliances are brand new. The huge L-shaped couch on the right is so massive you could sit at least ten people on it. We step to the back windows and see that we are actually on stilts, something that you wouldn’t see from the front of it. The dense trees are all around the lake so unless you live here or know about it, you would never know this is here. “There are the steps.” She points at the steps that lead down to the lake. I turn to look up and see that there is a railing looking down into the room.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, walking to the fridge. All I want to do is grab her ass and pull her back to me, kissing her again and again. But this time, I don’t want to stop until she’s under me, saying my name over and over again. She opens the fridge, and we see it’s fully stocked. “Do you want me to prepare stuff and then we can go and sit by the lake?”

“Yeah,” I finally say. “I am going to bring our bags to the bedroom.” I walk out of the room fast before she sees my cock is dying to come out and say hello to her.

Taking our bags, I go up the stairs that I didn’t notice before, and I spot the master bedroom that has a view of the lake. I dump the bags right next to the king-size bed and go back downstairs. She is cutting up fruit, so I help her by finding a cooler to carry everything in. We head down to the lake, the sound of the water hitting the rocks, and spot two Adirondack chairs on a dock. I wait for her to pick a seat and then sit next to her. I open the cooler, taking out a beer for me and one for her. “I can get used to this,” she says, taking a pull of her beer. “Would you be able to do this all year long?”

“Live up here?” I ask, taking a pull of the cold beer. “I mean, I’d love to vacation here, but I think I would need to be a little bit more in town.”

She nods, and for the rest of the afternoon, we make idle chitchat. Both of us are nervous about what tonight will bring. We head back up to the house when the sun goes down. “What were you thinking about eating for dinner?”

“We can throw a couple of steaks and potatoes on the grill,” I say. She takes the stuff out of the bag while I get the steak out.

She walks over to the wine rack and takes down a bottle. “Do you think Casey would mind if we opened a few bottles?”

I look over at her. “I don’t even think he knows what’s in that rack.” I laugh while she comes over, opening some of the drawers to search for a corkscrew. She pours herself some wine once she gets it open and takes a sip.

“This is really good,” she says. Walking over to the liquor rack, she comes back with a bottle of whiskey. I watch her while she pours some in a small glass and hands it to me. “Cheers.”

I wipe my hands and grab the glass. “Cheers.” I gently clink my glass to her, and we both take a sip.


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