Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
My shoulders droop.
Of course he doesn't get it. He has his sister. They had parents who adored them before they died. He knows what it's like to be loved and have family. Not me. I've never had either. My entire life, I’ve been alone. Oh, I have parents. But my parents tossed me in boarding school as soon as they were able to do it and went back to their lives as if having me was a mistake. I can count on one hand the number of holidays I spent at home.
I desperately want to know what it’s like to have a family of my own…to belong with people who actually want me. So that's what I put on my list—love and a baby. I just left out the part where I want to know what it’s like to be loved by him... and where I want his baby.
I should have put socks on the stupid list instead because now he’s mad.
“I’m so Scrooged,” I groan, laying my head on my desk.
Chapter Two
Lachlan
“Fuck,” I mutter, pacing back and forth in my office, Caitlin’s list clutched in my shaking hand. Running out of her office like I did was a dick move, but I had to get the fuck out of there before I did something I couldn’t take back…like haul her out of her chair and give her exactly what she wants for Christmas.
Getting her pregnant is basically all I've thought about since she stumbled her way into my office the week before Thanksgiving, looking like an angel.
I’m obsessed with her in a way that borders on unhealthy. Her big green eyes and sweet smile haunt my dreams. I find excuses to work late, just to keep her here late. Christmas is in two days, and we’re in the office. She should be at home right now, enjoying some time off. But no. I have her here with me.
Most weekends, when my sister thinks I’m working, I’m in the goddamn parking lot outside her place, just hoping she pops her head out. And as soon as she does, I’ve got my fucking cock in my hand, jerking it like a creep.
Okay, so maybe my obsession passed borders on unhealthy a few stops back. I can’t fucking help it, though. Everything about her makes my goddamn heart race. My cock is permanently hard. I ache for her in ways I can't even begin to explain.
She’s everything that’s been missing from my life. With her here, the office feels a helluva lot more like home than my own damn house. She feels like home. She’s shy, sweet, and has these curves that demand I put my hands all over them and claim them as my territory. I’ve never wanted to sink into anything and get lost the way I want to sink into her.
While she thinks I’m in here working, I’m jerking off like a horny teenager who just discovered porn. Except…the only thing I'm watching is the cameras pointed at her desk.
If she knew, she’d kick my ass.
I want to kick my own ass.
It’s illegal. It’s inappropriate.
And neither of those things is enough to stop me.
Every damn day, I swear I’ll stop, but then I see her, I smell her freesia shampoo, and eighteen new fantasizes swirl through my head. I’ve thought about fucking her every which way there is to fuck someone. Bent over her desk? Check. On top of it? Check. On my lap with her hair wrapped around my fist? Check. On the couch in my office? Check. Spread out on the rug in front of said couch? Also check. With her hands bound so she can’t move while I do every filthy thing I can think up? Check, check, and check.
I’m an asshole. My only saving grace is the fact that I’m an asshole in love. Because this isn’t just about fucking. God no. I want her—every fucking piece of her. I want my ring on her finger more than I want air. And I want her pregnant with my kid so goddamn badly I can taste it.
But until ten minutes ago, I wasn’t sure I stood a chance. She’s so quiet, so reserved. She holds her cards close to her chest, refusing to share much of anything. I thought it was because she simply tolerated me. But I saw…a flicker when she handed over that list. I’m not even sure how to describe it, but there was something in her eyes when she looked at me, like she wanted me to see her, like she wrote this list specifically with me in mind.
Shit. Maybe I only saw what I wanted to see. I don’t fucking know. But if she wants love and a baby, the only man giving them to her will be me. Hell will freeze over before I allow anyone else to touch her, kiss her, make love to her. She’s meant to be mine.