Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
We fit together well. I don’t think he meant to, but the finger Diego slid along my stomach tickled, and I flinched, causing Aaron to stir. His hazel eyes, with those gorgeous flecks of gold, opened and zeroed right in on me. His smile was almost as beautiful as Cody’s.
“Morning,” he whispered.
I whispered it back even though everyone was awake and planted a kiss on the side of his neck. His arm tightened around me, and I rolled onto his chest so that I could kiss his mouth.
Diego moved with me, his hand sliding down my back and coming to rest on my ass—not as if he wanted something from me, but just as if he liked touching me. I could understand that since I couldn’t get enough of touching their incredible bodies.
I ran my hand up and down Aaron’s bicep, marveling at the hard muscles. He wasn’t a bodybuilder—none of them were—but I just had never known male bodies could be this sculpted and fun to touch. Their defined abs, the hard muscle biceps—I wanted to touch all three of them at once. It was too bad I had only two hands.
Then I froze, my fingers gliding along Aaron’s arm. There was a line there that felt puckered and uneven.
Blinking, I tossed my hair out of my eyes and examined his arm. In the morning light, I saw it then—what I’d never noticed before under the ink. Scars and ugly marks.
They all looked old and mostly hidden by the tattoo. Tears filled my eyes, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to look him in the face. I hadn’t known this. I’d only seen what his life was like now. His hand glided down my back.
“It’s okay, Mia.” Aaron’s voice was gentle, comforting me when I should’ve been comforting him. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
But I couldn’t help it. I buried my face against his chest, and his arms wrapped around me, one hand stroking my hair.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It was a long time ago.”
I wept for that. I wept for what he’d been through, what Cody and Diego had been through, what so many foster kids had been through.
“Look at me, Mia,” Aaron said, lifting my chin with his finger. As I did, I realized that Cody wasn’t on the other side of him, and Diego was no longer behind me.
They’d given us some space.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I said I won the lottery at age seven, not before,” he said softly. His hand glided down my back. “I’m pretty damn happy with my life these days.”
I couldn’t look at those old marks any longer, so I let myself get caught up in those lovely hazel eyes. “You got the tattoo to hide them?”
“Not to hide, exactly. More like to make lemonade out of lemons. It was my grandfather’s idea.”
That made me smile softly. And here I’d thought his ex-politician grandfather would’ve disapproved. I kissed him then—not with heat or passion, just the desire to show him how much I cared about him, and how much I wished his childhood had been different.
“Shhh,” he said, stroking my hair. “We’re all a long way from where we started. I like where I am now.”
Looking around the gorgeous bedroom in the luxurious suite, I had to agree with him. “It’s so beautiful here.”
He laughed softly, holding me closer. “And I definitely like where you are now. In my arms and in my bed.”
That was so sweet that it made the tears resume. I let my cheek rest against his chest again. We were silent for a long time as he held me, but I hoped he derived as much comfort from our closeness as I did.
Sometime later, I stirred, my face mashed against his chest. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yes.” Aaron smiled down at me. ”But we’d better get up. I think breakfast is waiting.”
I sat upright, pulling the sheet to my chest. A scent in the air made my mouth water. “That smells incredible.”
Aaron was already climbing out of bed and pulling on his pants. “Diego makes the best pancakes in the world. You’re going to love them.”
He waited, looking away when I pulled on my robe and fastened it around my waist. He was back in “gentleman mode,” which was kind of sweet. But I hoped I hadn’t seen the last of the more abandoned side that had come out to play last night.
When I was ready, he held out his hand, and we walked barefoot across the thick, plush carpet toward the kitchen. Nobody was at the large dining room table, but Diego was sitting at the small table inside the kitchen.
Wait—Diego was sitting there?
What?
My jaw dropped as I entered the kitchen and took in the scene. There were a skillet and several pots on the stove, steam rising from them, and a bunch of serving bowls and platters on the counter. One held golden-brown croissants. In the center of it all was Cody.