Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I would want to make sure he’s happy about it.
I get back to work, dressing him as his hands roam down my thighs and back up to my waist.
I tighten the tie and fold his collar over. “Garrett Ames sees a boy who doesn’t deserve a seat at the table,” I say, meeting his eyes and steeling my voice. “But you’re a man who’s worked hard to get where he’s at, and … you don’t sit.”
He holds my gaze, and I smooth out every crease and make sure the folds in the lapels of his jacket are cut like knives.
“These clothes show that you know you’re going to take anything you want,” I state. “I mean, it worked with me last night.”
He snorts.
“I like that everyone outside your bedroom sees this,” I say, “and I’m the only one who gets to see what’s under it when you crawl into bed with me at night.”
He rushes to hide the smile consuming him, pulling me close and burying his face in my breasts.
He licks, and I lean into it as he moves up my chest, to my neck. Nerves fire between my thighs, like goddamn lightning. “Just one more time?” I beg.
He growls, digging his fingers into my ass and sucking my neck hard before he pulls away like he’s in pain.
His cock strains against his pants, and I whimper, batting my eyelashes.
He laughs. But then commands me, “Pack up the kids and anything else you need. Understand? My mother’s old art studio is theirs. Until the renovations are completed. Then they can have their own rooms.”
Pack up the kids …
“But my parents …” I retort.
“They know where to find us if they ever want to be parents again.”
I stare at him, some kind of throbbing going on under my skin that’s making me hot and excited and in awe of him. Just like that. Moving three Conroys into his house. He’s a good man.
But then I process exactly what he said. “Wait … Did you say renovations?”
He nods. “The old wing. We’re going to rebuild it. Dex will need a room. So will Iron when he comes home.”
I stare at him.
“You’re going to make me buy more suits, aren’t you?” he gripes, because he can probably see the emotion that I’m feeling at how he’s making plans, holding his head up, planning for the future …
I nod frantically, diving down to his mouth but not kissing him right away. Just hovering and breathing for a few moments before I sink my lips into his.
He’s trying. That’s all I need to hear.
He mumbles in between kisses, “And no fucking taco on our bed, please.”
He accidentally kisses my teeth as I break out in a smile. I bite his lips.
“Might get you a stuffed alligator, though,” he teases. “Because that’s what you are. A little alligator.”
I keep biting, his mouth, his jaw, his neck … “Nom, nom, nom …”
He rumbles with a laugh as he nibbles my breasts and grips my ass again. “Krisjen …”
My skin burns for him. My arms feel empty already.
“Macon …” I groan, arching my back and letting my head fall so he can suck on me. I hold his head to my body. “One more time.”
A screech hits my ears, and I pop my eyes open, seeing my mother standing in my open doorway.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, jumping down from the chair. Macon reluctantly lets me go as I grab my pillow and hold it to my body. Shit.
“Oh my God,” my mom says.
I glance at Macon, but he’s not looking at either of us. Just staring at the ceiling as he straightens his jacket, unfazed.
“Mom …” But I don’t know what to say to her.
Her travel case lies on the floor on its side, her eyes turning angry as she looks between Macon and me. She was supposed to be back days ago. I knew she could show up anytime. I don’t know why I just stopped thinking she would.
She’ll freak out because I’m with a Jaeger. She’d be happy if she found Jerome Watson in here with his hands all over me.
I start to head her off before she can speak. “Mom, I—”
But then I hear Macon’s voice. “Hello, Cara,” he greets my mother.
My gut knots. What?
I look up at him. He knows her?
She bursts into my room, her hair cascading in loose waves because of the one perm she got years back. She usually straightens it, but it’s clear she came from a beach. An island somewhere. She has a tan.
“What have you done?” she yells at Macon. Then she turns to me. “What did he do to you? What did he tell you?”
“What …?”
She shoves his chest. He arches back a little but doesn’t stumble. As if he was expecting it.
“You don’t get to have my daughter!” she bellows. “How dare you! You thought you could have one of us? You thought you could lay your hands on her?”