Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
But the woman in front of me crying? Nothing in my life has ever prepared me for this sight or the way I’m suddenly ready to go to fuckin’ war. No woman has ever stirred this response in me.
“He was a fuckwad,” I proclaim, wanting to make her feel better.
The words have their intended effect when she gives me a watery smile. “I bet he wasssh bad in bed.”
I chuckle at that. “See, there’s always a silver lining.” Then what she said registers and I realize the pretty little bride beside me is untouched. Lust like I’ve never known before shoots through me.
“He didn’t take care of you, did he?” The thought troubles me that she hasn’t been looked after. But it also opens up a door of possibilities. Possibilities that I could be the one meeting her needs.
Maggie buries her head in my shoulder. “You even shhmell better than him.” Then before I can respond, she’s snoring.
I study her for a moment, overwhelmed with the desire to kiss those ruby red lips. They’ve been taunting me since I first opened the limo door and found her slumped over that steering wheel.
But I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man that has a fling with a woman I barely met, let alone one who’s in obvious distress.
4
MAGGIE
I wake to a sound I don’t recognize. It has an uneven rhythm and as I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to realize where I am and how I got here.
Groaning from the headache, I gingerly stand and shuffle into the bathroom. I study my reflection in the mirror, seeing a woman I barely recognize. My makeup is smeared, and my hair is in a tangled knot.
I pad to the bedroom and grab the hairbrush and toiletries from my suitcase. At least I had the good sense to put that stuff in with my underwear.
When I’m done, I return the items to the room and that’s when I realize what today is.
It was supposed to be the start of my marriage. Sure, it would be an arranged one. But I had hoped that it would be the beginning of a beautiful life together filled with amazing adventures.
I wanted all of it—the house, the three daughters, and even the minivan with the crushed-up cereal in the seats.
Suddenly, I can’t stand the idea of being in this dress a moment longer. A dress someone else picked for me. To wear to the wedding with the groom that someone else picked for me.
It takes some shimmying to get it off of my plump frame. But as soon as I’m free from the monstrosity, I grab a pair of purple panties and a skimpy matching bra. They’re both lacy and see through but they have the kind of support that makes my tits and ass look great.
“At least, I have that going for me,” I mutter as I slide a hand along one of my chunky thighs.
Sure, I’ve never had the ideal body type that attracted men or made me likely to win a beauty pageant, but I love my curves.
I love the thighs that support me as I dance around the kitchen when I’m baking. I love the hands that have comforted my grandfather when he was confused and scared because he couldn’t remember where his house was anymore. I even love my fluffy middle because it turns the food I eat into energy I can use to run a multimillion-dollar company.
“You missed out on a treasure, Sebastian Thomas,” I declare. I still don’t know how the hell I’m going to save my family’s company but that’s not something I can solve while stranded with a handsome stranger in the middle of a snowstorm.
That same noise is back again. When I first woke up, I thought it was my head pounding from last night’s wine consumption but now I realize the sound was coming from outside.
Crossing the room, I peek out the window with the heavy curtains. I have to stand on my tiptoes to see around a large snow drift on this side of the house.
But I finally spy my mountain man chopping wood. He’s shirtless despite the snow flurries in the air.
Holy hell, the figure that was underneath that flannel yesterday. I know Crew is strong because he was able to carry me effortlessly. But I didn’t know just how built he is.
I watch as he splits a piece of wood, admiring the way his muscles ripple with each practiced swing. The thick muscles in his broad shoulders bunch as he pulls the axe from the wood only to take another swing.
His breath comes out as little puffs of air. His hair falls in his face and sweat trickles down his bare chest.
I wonder what it would be like to look down at his naked chest as I rode him on the wrought-iron bed behind me. Those big hands of his would be around my hips, urging me on.