Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 35378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
He cared for Lemon and planned to take care of her, protect her with his very life. She deserved someone who didn’t look at her like she was nothing. Not that he should be the one to judge. He wasn’t her father. All he knew was part of the pain she felt from the memory of her father rejecting her.
“She told me,” Nate said.
“What?”
“About the mall. Going to look for fabric, seeing you with your real family. From the time she was fourteen years old, you stopped being her hero.”
As the words spilled, he saw the crack start in Rocco’s demeanor. He did love his daughter very much.
It wasn’t unheard of for a mafia man to take a mistress or to keep a dozen of them. They all had the wealth of keeping them within a lifestyle they were accustomed to. Rocco was different. The only mistress he kept was Lemon’s mother.
Rumors would always follow Rocco, and Nate had never taken any of them seriously. They were dangerous men, and their lives didn’t allow them to take on civilian women who didn’t know the score.
“Lemon needs to come home.” Rocco pressed his fingers together, leaning on the table. “Do you think I wasn’t aware of the whole cursed houses?”
Nate couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That fucking curse. “Seriously? You believe in that?”
“Do your research, Nate, and while you’re at it, stay the hell away from my daughter.” Rocco got to his feet.
There was no way Nate was going to stay away.
He waited as Rocco left the café. Nate wasn’t an idiot. He knew about the houses. After the curse was mentioned, he’d looked into it. For the most part, it was all based on rumor, but he’d delved a little deeper, finding previous owners and discovering that each couple before him and Lemon had each gotten married.
All of them.
No divorces.
So, he delved even further back, and from the moment the houses were built, the couples who entered later left together, married or in a relationship.
To him, it didn’t sound like a curse. Like a fairytale. As if the houses picked out soulmates.
He stood up, paid the money for the coffees neither of them had touched, climbed in his car, and drove all the way back to Lemon’s house. Once he was parked, he stayed outside, looking at their houses, seeing no discernable mark. Nothing to suggest they were cursed.
Nate didn’t believe in shit like that. He also didn’t believe in love.
People may think they were in love, and put a label on their feelings which bound them in marriage, but he didn’t believe in it.
Getting out of his car, he hated that the sun had already set. It was freezing cold and way too dark.
He went straight to Lemon’s house and rang the bell.
Her father’s words were clear. Stay away from Lemon, but Nate was never one to follow the rules exactly.
Seconds later, Lemon opened the door, dressed in a bathrobe. She’d clearly been asleep. Her lips were slightly plump, her hair wild from dreaming.
He couldn’t resist her.
Banding his arm around her waist, he stepped over the threshold. No words were needed as he closed the door, flicking the lock into place, and then, lifting Lemon into his arms as he went straight to her bedroom.
She didn’t ask how he knew where her room was. He wouldn’t tell her how he stalked her house, putting cameras into secure locations so he could keep an eye on her. For weeks, he studied her home, her life, everything about her. Their first real meeting had been carefully orchestrated by him.
He put Lemon on her feet, tugged at the belt of her robe, and let it fall free. He slid his hands around her waist, tugging her close as he caught sight of the negligee. The lace traced over the curve of her tits, teasing, tempting. He wanted her.
His cock was already rock-hard.
With the robe on the floor, he tugged off his jacket, being careful so she didn’t hear the loud noise as he had a gun in it.
Lemon reached out, but her hands were clenched, almost as if she was too afraid to touch him.
He couldn’t have that.
He needed her hands on him more than anything.
Taking hold of her wrist, he placed it on his chest. “I want you to touch me, Lemon.”
Uncurling her hand, he put her hand back on his chest. “You can always touch me.”
She stayed perfectly still, but he had no problems putting his hands on her.
Wrapping them around her waist, he pulled her toward him, sinking his fingers into her hair at the same time he grasped her ass.
He lifted the negligee, finding supple flesh with no underwear.
“I need to taste you.” He growled the words against her lips as he pushed her back to the bed.