Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“I told you the next time you showed up here I was calling the cops,” Ronan bellows, facing off with the man.
Not just any man.
Oh my God.
“Xavi Jacobs,” Lucca hisses in shock. “That’s Xavi Jacobs from Berlin Scandal.”
Holy crap.
Xavi is the lead singer of Lucca’s favorite band. Tall, lean but muscular, a face of a broken angel. Beautiful, yet tragically broken. But Xavi is a media nightmare. Always getting trashed in public and making a scene. He looks drunk and pissed off. Not a good combination.
“You need to go,” Ronan barks. “We have gone over this a thousand times. You can’t keep showing up.”
“Fuck you, Ronan Hayes. Fuck you and your label.” Xavi kicks the table with the candy dish, and it hits the floor, shattering.
Christian’s mouth pops open. “Mommy, he broke it!”
“Shhh,” I whisper.
Xavi’s fury melts momentarily when he blinks our way, taking in the fact that a family is watching him lose his shit. Shame washes over his features. But before he has a chance to bolt, a cop storms in. Not just a regular cop, but a big-ass scary hot cop. His muscles bulge as he charges over to Xavi.
Xavi looks like he wants to flip out, but again, he casts a look our way. It’s apologetic almost. Lost. My heart breaks for him. I hope he and Ronan can sort it out. The cop grips Xavi’s bicep in a punishing hold and all but drags him away. The three of them walk into an empty office, and the door closes behind them.
“Awkward,” Lucca grumbles, ruffling his son’s hair. “Let’s go see your aunt.”
One month later…
I stare at my sleeping son—fuck, that never gets old—a moment longer before closing the door. When I pad down the hallway, I shake my head. I can’t believe Sofina bought me a damn house. I wanted to be pissed, but she’s sassy now that she’s with Ronan and singing for the whole fucking world. She told me to shut up and deal with it. Actually, her words were, “You need to stop being a prideful asshole. It’s for my nephew. You took care of me when you didn’t have to, and I never really told you how much I appreciated you for that and love you. Now, let me take care of you a little, big bro.” How was I supposed to argue with that?
But this house is a home because of Breezy. She’s an incredible decorator and has worked hard to pull in as many family pictures as she can into her décor. Sometimes, I stand in front of the fireplace for hours staring at our wedding picture. It was a small wedding on a lake nearby. A few close friends and family. I love the picture because Christian hangs from my back like a monkey while I kiss his mom. It’s so fucking adorable.
I step into our room and hear the shower going. A thrill shoots through me knowing Breezy is back from her class. I have good news to tell her, and I can’t wait to kiss her dizzy before laying it on her. We had to go through hell for six years to find our heaven. But, fuck, is it ever heaven now.
Locking the door behind me—I’ve learned my damn lesson after one too many times of our son walking in on us—I strip out of my clothes on the way to the bathroom. Once inside the fancy bathroom, I sit in the chair Breezy always uses to put on her makeup. The bathroom is steamy, but I can see her form beyond the glass. Lazily, I grip my dick and stroke it as I watch her from across the room.
The moment she senses me, she turns and steps close to the door. She writes I love you in the glass, then begins a seductive, teasing dance as she soaps her body down. Her hand swipes through the steam, giving me a clear view of her perfect body.
Standing, I continue to jerk at my dick as I watch her rinse off. Once I’m close enough, my dick nearly touching the glass, she bats her long lashes at me in a coy way that drives me mad with need.
“Touch yourself, Breezy,” I rumble, stroking myself slowly.
She flutters her fingertips over her hard nipple. “Here?”
I shake my head. “Lower, baby.”
Her hand skims down over her stomach to her pussy. “Here?”
“Mmhmm. Touch your clit.”
Our eyes lock as she teases her clit. I’m reminded of those times when she unknowingly danced for me inside that glass box. Difference is, now she’s all mine and I never have to share her again.
“Put your foot on the seat,” I order. “Show me how pink and needy your cunt is.”
A small gasp escapes her at my words, but my girl obeys. She slides her fingers between her pussy lips and opens them so I can see her clit that practically throbs to be sucked on.