Ghost Read Online A. Zavarelli books (Boston Underworld #3)

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
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Before I can even give them an answer, Ronan takes it upon himself to add another reason. One he knows I can’t turn down.

“Sasha is having my baby. We need a safe place for her to stay.”

“You can have the third floor,” I tell him. “But you’ll need to use the back entrance when you come and go. And stay off this level. I have my own pregnant wife to worry about, and we like our privacy.”

Ronan is surprised by my words, but I don’t give him any further explanation. I am anxious to get to my bed. To be inside of Talia.

I move to the door, and Rory follows.

I leave them to their business and move down the hall to my room.

Talia is asleep. Her blonde hair spread like a halo across my black pillow. She looks beautiful. And when I lift the covers and see her naked, my cock is painfully hard.

But I don’t wake her when I climb in behind her. Instead, I simply pull her against my body, breathing in her scent and soaking up her warmth. She sighs a contented sigh and nuzzles in closer to me.

And that’s exactly how we fall asleep.

41

Talia

Life with Alexei is a pattern.

Never a straight line. Always a series of highs and lows as we get to know each other. Discover more of each other.

I learn new things about him every day.

Everything he does is done with precision. Carefully considered and weighed out before he decides. A simple trip from his home often takes him several days to prepare.

I know it is because the world has been a cold and cruel place to him. He doesn’t like to feel vulnerable. But he is. He is especially vulnerable when he leaves the house. Always worrying that his secret will be discovered.

His mind must be switched on all the time. He muttered to me once, under his breath, that I had become a distraction for him at the dinner parties. It worries him. But he likes it too.

I like being his distraction.

Which is why I often find myself in his office, in the middle of the day, like I am right now. He likes the way I look on the outside. And he accepts that I’m a whole lot of fucked up on the inside.

But I make myself pretty for him. Every day. In these designer clothes that don’t belong on the likes of me. And then he dirties me up with his eyes and his hands and his cock.

When he sees me today though, he seems distracted by something else. And I don’t like it at all. I want to be the center of his world. I want to be so much more than his wife in name and his fuck toy in the bedroom. Want is a dangerous thing.

Still, I walk around behind him and touch his shoulders. He tilts his head back against the chair to look up at me, and I lean down and kiss him. My fingers move over the sensitive flesh of his neck, hoping to infuse myself with some of the cologne he wears.

I like to smell of him. I like to rub my body all over him.

“You are teaching me bad habits, Solnyshko,” he tells me.

“How so?” I ask innocently.

He turns around and tugs me into his lap, burying his face in my neck and inhaling me. I try to kiss him. To get him going because I know he won’t stop once I do. But he doesn’t let me get that far. He grabs my hands and keeps them trapped between us. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against his chest.

And then he just looks at me. For too long.

This is the thing I don’t like. And I’ve noticed it happening more and more lately. It is intimate, having someone’s eyes on you with no intention of doing anything other than looking. Seeing you.

“I want you,” I tell him.

His hand crawls up my back and reaches for my hair, tangling it in his fist and pulling it tight so that I can’t move my head.

“You want me to do dirty things to you,” he says.

“Yes.”

“What if I just want to look at you?” he asks.

“I don’t like it,” I answer.

“I don’t care,” he replies.

It’s obvious he’s going to do whatever he wants. So I just wait, trying to hide by burying my face against his chest. He plays with my hair, and even though he is hard for me, he doesn’t do anything else.

It confuses me. This type of intimacy from him. One minute he wants all of me. And the next, he backs away. Never letting himself get too close. I just try not to think about it. But when he holds me like this, it’s hard not to. To ask him things that I shouldn’t even be thinking.


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