Newly Tied (Marshals #7) Read Online Mary Calmes

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Marshals Series by Mary Calmes
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
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“We need to hurry and get to my place,” I husked.

“Because you want to touch me?”

I had to catch my breath. “Yes.”

“Yeah, I want to touch you too, but we gotta talk about that.”

“Oh God,” I groaned.

His chuckle was filthy, and that didn’t help.

“I need to hear about your mother first.”

“What’s to tell?”

“I want to know what she said.”

“She knew already.”

I turned to him. “What’d she know?”

He shrugged. “Me. She knows me. And she could tell from how much time I spend with you, and how I can’t seem to find anyone to please me—her words not mine—that perhaps you were the reason.”

I cleared my throat. “And how does she feel about that? I mean, your mother is a very religious woman.”

“She is. But you know her—she was also the one who walked my cousin Michelle down the aisle when she married her girlfriend, Eva, because neither of her parents would do it.”

I smiled, remembering. “That was a nice weddin’.”

“Yes, it was. And Michelle was married at church, at my mother’s insistence, and Pastor Aames⁠—”

“Who is a very nice man,” I said, trying not to laugh, “and also absolutely terrified of your mother.”

“So very frightened,” he affirmed with an evil grin. “But he married them and was happy to do it, and since they were married in the church, now Michelle’s parents are coming around.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I sighed.

“It is good, but that’s my mom, right? She’s not gonna stop loving me, or stop loving you, because our feelings changed from being friends to…you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” I pressed him. “What are they?”

“I thought you wanted to know about my mother.”

“I do. What else did she say?”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t let go of me. “She said she would be very upset with me if I hurt you in any way.”

I chuckled. “She’s worried about you breakin’ my heart.”

“Which is ridiculous.”

My scoff was probably a bit too loud.

“What? Why would I—I would never do that.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Not for any reason,” he insisted, sounding defensive. He moved his arm, side-eyeing me as he put some space between us.

“You get bored awfully fast,” I reminded him.

“That’s different. This is different.”

I shrugged.

“It is!”

“Don’t yell,” I cautioned him. “People will think we’re havin’ a fight out here.”

I could hear the frustrated growl under his breath.

“I’m awful glad you told your mom. I could not be the one to ever jeopardize your relationship with her.”

“My mother would never let something like who I love come between us. That could never happen. And I wasn’t worried about that when I told her. I just wanted to hear what she thought.”

I didn’t even comment on the whole who-I-love part because he had been focused on talking about her and nothing else. “What exactly did she say?”

“That before I started anything with you, I should be sure about what I really wanted because you’re my best friend and my partner, so if I messed up, I’d be setting both my personal and professional life on fire.”

I nodded.

“I hate this.”

“Whazzat?”

“Explaining this to you.”

I tried not to smile. “She really is worried about you stickin’ with somethin’, or someone, ain’t she?”

“Apparently so,” he grumbled. “I have no idea how I got this reputation of being some kind of…”

“Manwhore?” I offered.

The slow turn of his head with the accompanying scowl was priceless. “I’m sorry, what?”

“No? Don’t like that one? How ’bout player?”

“I don’t need you to⁠—”

“Cassanova?”

“Nobody says that any⁠—”

“Philanderer?”

“Are you done?”

“Love ’em and leave ’em?”

“I just date a lot,” he groused.

“Yeah, you do. And that’s fine.”

“Listen, I—you know, I really like meeting people and getting to know them.”

“I do know.”

“Now what the hell does that mean?” he asked as we turned the corner to start down the next street, making our way to my apartment.

“Nothin’.”

“It reeked of judgment.”

“Reeked?” I goaded him.

“You know what I⁠—”

“I do,” I said, slipping my arm around his shoulders and easing him close. “You like knowin’ how people think.”

He took a breath, calming with my change of tone and the closeness. “That’s true.”

“And when you meet someone new, you are very interested in them.”

“Why are you making that sound like a bad thing?”

“It’s not. It’s great. You are so interested in the beginnin’, and you ask a million questions, and you listen really well, and I have seen everyone—women you’re datin’, new friends, men and women both—eat up all that attention.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly, as if waiting for an ambush.

“Don’t get defensive. I’m not attackin’ you.”

“But you could make your point.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you like to learn everythin’ about the other person, and that’s real nice until you’re done.”

“Until I’m done?”

“Don’t act stupid. You know what you do.”

“Apparently not,” he snapped at me.

“Once you’re done, you go from bein’ around all the time to every other day, and then a couple of times a week, then once a week, then once every two weeks⁠—”


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