Broken (#1) Read Online Free Book by A.E. Murphy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, College, Dark, Drama, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult Tags Authors: Series: Broken Series by A.E. Murphy
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Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
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There’s a light tapping on the door, “Are you okay in there?”

“Yes,” I lie, I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay again.

Quickly and thoroughly I scrub myself down, hating the way the water turns pink. I climb out and dry my body carefully. I then wrap a towel around myself after placing a pad in a pair of my lady boxers and tugging them on.

Nathan, hearing me move around, opens the door and steps inside, “All set?”

I nod and stretch my body, “I feel so much lighter.”

“He’s a big baby, I’m not surprised,” Nathan stares at me with a fondness in his eyes that I’ve never seen coming from him. “I know women give birth to babies every day, but I want you to know that right now, I’m in complete awe of you.”

“I’m in complete awe of myself,” I choke and rub a hand across my aching breasts. Ouch.

“Here,” Nathan hands me a nursing bra with nipple pads already attached. I notice he hasn’t got his gloves on. How odd. I don’t bring attention to this fact though as I don’t want to make him aware of it, just in case he’s not already.

“I’m disturbed by how comfortable you feel handling my underwear,” I take it from him and motion for him to turn around.

After a few moments I hear the sound of my son squawking, my boobs tingle. “Well that’s new.”

“What is?”

I shake my head, my cheeks flushing with colour, “Nothing.” Just the fact my breasts seem to know that my child is hungry.

Jeanine is sat in the armchair by the window, my son in her arms clothed in a lemon coloured all in one and a little yellow hat with matching mittens. I pad over to the couch and curl my legs to the side.

Shock overcomes me for a moment when Nathan, with a bright smile on his face, takes the whittling baby from Jeanine with his bare hands and holds him up before him. One hand behind his head and shoulders and the other under his round bottom.

I take a sneaky picture on my phone, I can’t resist.

He brings him over to me and places him on my chest.

“I’ll put the kettle on, I hope you don’t mind if I stay the night, I doubt I’ll be able to get back on my old legs,” Jeanine says and smoothes down her trousers.

“Not at all,” Nathan doesn’t take his eyes from us. “Thank you Jeanine. I don’t think I could have handled it without your help.”

“Sweet boy,” she chuckles and gives me a wink as she passes. “I think he’s hungry again.” She means the baby.

She’d be right. I look down at my son and smile at his attempt to find milk in my collarbone. “He’s going to give me a love bite if he doesn’t stop.”

Nathan sits beside us, his arm rests along the back of the couch and his fingers tease my hair. Tilting my head back slightly I relish the feel of Nathan’s gentle fingers soothing me as my son sucks the life out of my breast.

“He needs a name,” I scrunch up my face as I think. “I’m drawing a blank.”

“As long as it’s not something hideous.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes for a minute or so. “George?”

“No.”

“Travis?”

“No.”

“Dillan,” he gives a small shrug when he sees my look of disbelief. “I like Dillan.”

“Dillan,” I test the name out a few times. “I like it.” Yes. Dillan. I love it. “Dillan is great.”

Nathan’s smile blinds me, if I weren’t so tired I’d smile back. “Really?”

“Yeah, Dillan is perfect.” I yawn, it’s loud and unattractive. “Thank you. For keeping cool today and for being my rock.”

He doesn’t say anything but we share a look of mutual respect.

After burping my son I pass him back to Nathan who seems eager to take him. As much as I want to hold my child, I daren’t do it for a second longer as my eyes won’t remain open.

Chapter Twenty One

This whole parenting thing is hard. I don’t remember much after falling asleep on the couch, all I know is I’m now in bed and this is the third time I’ve gotten up to tend to Dillan.

Dillan. The name suits him so well.

I look over at his Moses basket that rests on a stand about two feet from the bed. Nathan must have brought it in here, obviously not feeling comfortable being so far from his nephew.

Standing slowly, I bend over the basket and collect my son with both hands. He stretches in that cute way that only babies can stretch and lets out a little yelp. Not happy being moved. Grumpy boy.

Carefully I climb back into bed and prop the pillows up behind me, Nathan who is asleep to my right, instantly rolls back into me and wraps his arm around my middle.



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