Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“Love you, cherry. Same goes, except I’ll get to watch you grow our child in your body, watch you nourish them, and be grateful as fuck you’re mine. Forever.” I pull his mouth to mine, kissing him with everything I have and cherishing every moment.
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Coming Next is My Wounded Boss, Rafe’s story.
Amazon
Prologue
Rafe
Two weeks earlier
The nightmares. They should have been there, the minute my eyes snapped open. Sweat drenches the back of my neck, my chest, and my forehead. The sheets are a tangled damn mess around my waist. I take a deep breath, trying to still my rapidly beating heartrate. For one violent second, I thought I was back there.
Overseas. Sand in my lungs, smoke in the air, and blood on my hands. Then realization hit, there was no gunfire, no screaming, no death.
Just her.
My pulse thunders, the darkness of the penthouse does nothing to calm me.
“Son of a bitch,” the words come out low and wrecked because this is somehow worse. Usually the nightmares hollowed me out— shaking, angry at myself for coming back in one piece when better men hadn’t. When the ghost’s claw through my head along with enough adrenaline in his bloodstream to last until dawn. The only thing that calms the dark thoughts swirling in my head is working out, to tire myself out so much that I’m barely able to make it to the shower.
Tonight I wake up just as hard, except it was different. And the dreams I had, I shouldn’t be having.
Shit was so real, so raw, it was like Seraphina was there with me. No blurry dream fragments, no fleeting impression, every detail seared through me with a clarity like no other.
I drag a rough breath into my lungs, swing my legs over the side of the bed, lean forward, and brace my elbows on my knees. Seraphina Westwood, elegant yet dangerous. Yesterday nearly did me in, soft honey brown hair hanging loosely down her back in soft waves, golden strands catching the light, and the smile she sent my way, disarmed me. Amber- brown eyes that made me want to see the colors they’d turn in a different capacity. Full berry-colored lips and a smile that could make a man drop to his knees.
The white loose blouse she wore effortlessly, the deep v giving me a slight glimpse of the swell of her breasts, high waisted black slacks hugged her long legs and full curves.
In my dream she’d been in my lap, not in the building, not behind her desk where she works just outside my office. Nope, she’d been right here, in my penthouse. Moonlight spilling over her milky skin while the city glows behind her, thighs straddling my hips, her fingers slowly sliding through my hair, looking at me like I’m not the demanding asshole boss I am at work, not the man with a past that still plagues, she looked at me like she wanted me.
I shouldn’t have had one single dirty thought about my assistant, except I did.
I stand up abruptly, stalking out of my bedroom and toward the kitchen without a stitch of clothing on. My bare feet are silent against the marble floors, my body still feels too damn tight, restless muscle and restrained hunger. I pull open the fridge door, grab a bottle of water, untwist the cap, and suck the contents down. It didn’t help, fuck, nothing will help. Not when my mind keeps replaying the dream in cruel, sensual flashes. Seraphina leaning against me, chest pressed to mine, her mouth a breath away. The delicate scent of honeysuckle and peach surrounding me. Her palms flattening against my chest and when she said my name on a whisper, I slam my eyes closed, refusing to bring up the rest that happened.
I’m losing my damn mind. She’s my assistant, twenty-six years old, playful, confident, vibrant, and entirely off-limits. Too damn bad the head between my legs can’t get with the one on top of my shoulders. I brace my hands on the counter with my head lowered after discarding the bottle of water in the recycling bin.
Two weeks. That’s all it’s taken for her to get under my skin.
Two weeks of her walking into my office, takes my day by storm, floating in and out, rambling non-stop, not giving a fuck that I’ve only given her a grunt in response.
Two weeks of her soft voice cutting through the constant noise in my head, refusing to be intimidated by me.
Two weeks of my dick being in a constant state of hardness when Seraphina’s anywhere nearby. And believe me, she stayed close. Arching an eyebrow if I skipped a meal, calmly taking my whisky out of my hand after a sixteen-hour work day to replace it with either water or coffee.