Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
But it’s true.
Now that it’s in my head, I can’t erase the thought.
I love him. I want to keep him. He’s mine forever and ever.
The timer dings, and I reluctantly pull away from his sweet mouth to grab an oven mitt. I take out the muffins and set them on top of the stove to cool. My gaze once again finds Callan, who remains on the countertop.
Wrecked.
I wrecked him with my mouth.
Makes me feel like a million bucks.
I do this to him. I bring him pleasure and make him laugh. I make him happy.
I love you.
The words don’t escape, but I hope he feels them.
“Grab a shower, handsome,” he says, eyes gleaming with an emotion that feels a lot like the one thrumming through me right now. “I’ll clean up in here, and then we can get to bed. We have a full evening of shopping later.”
“And what do you suggest I do about this?” I ask, an eyebrow arched as I glance down at my dick that’s bulging in my jeans.
He slides off the counter and turns his back to me. His red, lacy panties are askew, hanging off one ass cheek. In a taunting way, he makes a pointed look between my dick and his ass.
“I guess we’ll figure it out soon enough.” He flashes me a wicked grin before turning back to his mess he’s made.
I stare for a beat, getting lost in the sight of his beautiful body, the warm cinnamon scent in the air, and the sound of Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” crooning in the background.
If I could bottle up one of the most favorite moments in my entire life, it’d be right now. Right this second. This one.
Callan laughs with Addison Granger as they huddle together, deciding on the perfect gift for Jax and Dante from us. As much as I give him shit about hating shopping, I actually enjoy it. I just watch him as he flits around buying stuff and perusing aisles. Hell, I could find enjoyment in just about everything he does. Sometimes, I like peeking in on him when he’s painting in his office. It’s times like those that he’s so unguarded and beautiful. All his walls are down, and he’s completely himself.
The bell on the door chimes as a customer walks in. As soon as I recognize the face, I grimace. Mom. Lovely. Her smile is fake—a rehearsed one she’s perfected over the years.
“Atlas, darling, what a pleasure running into you.”
“The pleasure is all yours.” I smirk. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“Stop,” she huffs out in exasperation. “Just stop all this, Atlas. We’re growing tired of these games.”
Games?
Dad being an asshole my entire fucking life with Mom as his personal cheerleader isn’t a game. My avoiding them isn’t a game. It’s self-preservation.
“Everything okay?” Callan asks, hooking his arm in mine.
His presence soothes me, and the tension bleeds from me as quickly as it came. I tear my gaze from my mother to press a kiss to the top of his head.
“Everything’s perfect. You ready to leave?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
Mom steps forward. “Son, come for Christmas. Please. Your sister will be there and some of your cousins. Your Aunt Molly and Uncle Eugene. You can bring your…”
“Boyfriend,” I grind out. “You can say the word, Mom.”
Her perfectly schooled features tighten. “Of course. Boyfriend.” She says the word like it’s bitter on her tongue. “We’d love to have you both.”
Callan’s grip on my arm tightens.
“We’re busy,” I clip out. “Maybe another time.” Like never.
“Oh, Atlas,” she says in disproval. “Think about it. It’s past time we make amends.”
“Goodbye, Mom.” I tug Callan, sidestepping the viper of a woman who lies for a living.
We barely make it to the door when she calls out to me.
“He’s a little young, don’t you think, Son?”
“I’m eighteen,” Callan blurts out.
“He’s old enough to be your daddy, honey.” Her condescending tone grates on me. “Atlas, does his dad know what you’re doing?”
The sharp intake of breath from Callan has me releasing him to whirl around. Once again, I face the bitch who’s done nothing but try and make my life a living hell because I wasn’t the perfect puppet they wanted me to be.
“That’s enough,” I growl. “You’re not allowed to speak to him or about him. Understood?”
“Or what?”
I know she’s baiting me into saying something I’ll regret. The calculating glint in her eyes is obvious to me. I’m not some courtroom case. I’m her son. It’s a low blow, even for her.
“Have a good evening, Mom.”
I take Callan’s hand and guide him out the door. Taking his cheeks in my hands, I press a kiss to his lips.
“You okay?” we both ask at the same time and then subsequently laugh.
“Perfect now,” I assure him. “Let’s go.”
We make our way over to Jarrett’s. My phone rings, so I wave Callan inside while I take the call. I don’t recognize the number.