Texting My Dad’s Best Friend Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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Everyone laughs.

I join in.

But beneath the laughter, there’s a growing admiration for Brooke inside of me, not that I don’t already. A pulsing certainty that this woman is the woman for me. It’s the strength in her voice, how she can laugh in the face of things instead of letting them paralyze her.

It makes me think of the future when one of our children scuffs their knee or has a bad day at school.

She’ll be able to use both sides of her caring heart, the reasonable and the empathetic, a union of love.

“Except it could’ve been….”

Brooke looks up at me, staring bravely. Nobody else knows what’s happening here, the significance of our eyes meeting when we’ve been battling just this all day.

“If it wasn’t for you, Banner. Thank you.”

I hold her gaze, trying not to lose control. My instincts flare, growling at me to flip the table and sprint over to her. I could get one of the boats and return to one of the other islands with nobody around.

I’d strip her naked slowly, letting my woman feel every single moment of it, the tingles against her skin.

And then I’d feast on her, the sopping place between her legs, knowing nobody else could hear her scream, even if sound carries across the water.

I wouldn’t let her screams get that far. It would just be for us, for me.

Instead, I swallow a lump of emotion, lust, affection, need – and a dozen other feelings clashing and rioting. “You’re welcome.”

I’m in my room, sitting on the bed and staring down at my phone. The sun glistens across the ocean into my room, flooding it with light. I’m trying to force myself to delete Brooke’s number.

Everybody is relaxing until later, when some will be partying, others rappelling, paddle boarding, or just hanging out.

I could get her number again, of course, if I did delete it.

But even crossing that line feels like too much. It feels wrong and cruel that I would even toy with the idea of shutting my woman out like that.

I hold my thumb over the ‘delete contact’ option, but then a text appears.

It’s Brooke.

Instantly, the idea I could ever erase her seems absurd.

What are you up to?

Honestly? I was trying to delete your number. But I can’t.

What? Why?

I imagine this in her voice, her tone getting higher in pitch, the sense of betrayal in it.

You know why, Brooke.

She doesn’t reply for several minutes. I walk out onto the balcony, leaning against the wall, staring at the sea.

Out there, in another life, we’re on a yacht with our family.

Brooke – my wife – is lying on the deck in a swimsuit which highlights all her curvaceous flawlessness while still being dignified. It’s the sort of outfit which allows me to admire her. To stare at those wide hips without flying into a full possessive fury and claiming her over and over.

Or maybe I’m kidding myself, thinking I could ever resist her.

And maybe we’ll already have children in this imagined life. Little footsteps running across the decking, smiling faces staring up at me, little hands tugging at my wrist and begging me to come and play.

I close my eyes tightly, the force of the fantasy almost too much to take.

It’s like I’ve finally learned what wanting something is, really wanting it for the first time in my life.

My phone buzzes.

You’re right. I know why. We should do that, shouldn’t we?

Yes, I reply. But I can’t, and that’s the truth. Deleting your number would feel wrong. It feels as wrong as sitting across from you instead of next to you feels. It feels as wrong as not being able to hold your hand or brush your messy hair from your forehead.

My hair’s messy? Maybe I should try harder. LOL.

Don’t you dare, I text quickly. I love it messy. It makes you look beautiful, sexy, and a little wild.

You want me to be wild, huh?

I reply, Only with me, Brooke, wondering if this is too far, starting to care less and less.

But I can keep this contained for only so long. I haven’t got superhuman willpower.

Or if I did once – or it seemed like I did – it was because I was never interested in having a relationship or claiming a woman for life.

I don’t want it with anybody else, she replies. But that does sort of make me think….

Think what?

She doesn’t respond, leaving me to pace the balcony, to wonder what she meant. There’s clearly something in her kind, open heart she wants to share.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, it will be something like….

Hey, Banner, I just wanted you to know you’re not crazy. I want to get pregnant by you ASAP. And I’ve already spoken to dad, and he’s completely cool with it. Oh, and if you ever want to propose, just know I’ll say yes.


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