Hollywood Playboy (Hollywood Royalty #1) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Hollywood Royalty Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jessica

Finally, a statement from Tyler’s new lady.

Blinking my eyes open slowly, I see some sunlight coming into the room. I’m on my back, and the covers are to my neck. I look over and see the back of Tyler’s head. I stretch, turning and slipping out of bed, careful not to wake him. I walk to the bathroom and wash my face with water. Walking to his closet, I check to see if he has a robe, and he doesn’t. I grab a pair of panties and slide a T-shirt off one of the hangers, slipping it over my head. I walk out and see he’s still asleep. I close the door softly so as not to wake him. I walk to the kitchen and look around. The U-shaped kitchen has all white cupboards with white and gray marble countertops, making it look a touch cozy. The dark wood floor makes the white stand out. A huge island in the middle of the kitchen has eight stools around it with a big vase of yellow flowers in the middle. I walk over to the sink and look out the window, and the scenery is breathtaking. All I see is green and mountains everywhere. No other houses. To the left is an in-ground pool and what looks like a covered porch. I turn, walking to the coffeemaker, and search his cupboards to get what I need. I don’t have to look far; the coffee is stored right on top of the coffee machine. I start a brew and go over to the fridge. The huge stainless-steel fridge is stocked, so I grab some milk and make my coffee. I look around, not sure where I want to have the coffee, when I spot the nook off the kitchen. Huge bay windows and a small table in the middle with four chairs. I leave my coffee on the island and grab my computer, powering it on. I decide to sit at the island, crossing my legs as I take a sip of coffee. I open a blank document and start typing. I don’t hear him walk up behind me, but I feel his arms wrap around my waist. “Morning,” he mumbles and buries his face in my neck, taking a deep breath. “How long have you been up?”

“Not long.” Turning my face to kiss his lips, I say, “I made coffee.”

He nods his head, letting go of me and walks to the coffeepot to make himself a cup. “So I was thinking.” I look over at him in shorts that rest low on his hips as he leans back on the counter. “I wrote a piece today, and if it’s okay with you, I want to publish it.” His eyes narrow on me. “I don’t know where I’ll post it. I was thinking maybe Instagram or my Facebook; someplace that the media will see it and share it.” I look at him. “I won’t share it if you don’t want me to, but”—I smile at him—“if it’s okay with you, I also want to share a picture of us from when we went to the cherry blossoms.”

“Why?” he asks, setting his cup down on the counter behind him.

“Because I want people to see us happy and smiling together. I don’t want the only picture of us together to be the one private moment.”

“You know that no matter what picture you put out there, the other will always be there, right?” Something I don’t need him to tell me because I know how it works. “And that the world loves a scandal, so it’s easier for them to grasp onto the gossip than on the reality.”

“I know that whatever happens with us, even if we are together for ten years, that picture will always be there, but I want to have others there also.”

“If that is what you want to do, I’ll stand behind you.” I’m surprised but not really; that’s the real Tyler.

“Don’t you want to read it?” He shakes his head at the question.

“If you want me to, I will, but I don’t need to.” He comes to me, and I turn on the stool. “If you need to do this, then do it. I stand behind you, every time.” He stands between my legs now, and I kiss him, tasting the coffee on his lips. He peels the shirt off me, then picks me up, and turns to the bedroom.

“Wait,” I tell him, and he stops in place. “I want to post it, and then I want you to take me back to bed.” He walks back to the island and sets me back on the stool. I open my Facebook and Instagram and post it at the same time, attaching the other photo of us. The one where both of us are smiling, and his arm is over my shoulder. I close the computer, and he takes me back to bed, where we stay well into the evening. His phone goes off most of the day, no doubt because of the social media post that is now trending all over the place.


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