Texting My Hot Tutor – Text Me You Love Me Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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He was the right choice.

I shift on the bed, my hand stroking over my belly.

Our little bump is quiet, but I know she’ll be kicking again in a few minutes or hours, eager to come into the world and meet her parents.

When my phone buzzes from the bedside table, I can’t help but smile.

Eli and I are sleeping separately tonight. We made a not-at-all-serious deal that we wouldn’t text each other, but we were grinning the whole time, doing that eye contact thing that has my pregnancy hormones kicking into mega overdrive.

Picking up my phone, my smile widens.

Okay…you can say it.

I laugh, the quiet room suddenly feeling full of life—our little bump kicks.

Say what? I type. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

You win. I lose. But come on, Della…it’s hard enough being apart from you, let alone not being able to talk.

It did all start with a text. I clutch my phone to my chest for a second, feeling it beat against my heart, and go on. I was going to text you in a minute anyway. I’m starting to think Little Bump might really be our best choice.

Haha, we’ll see. I bet we’ll know her name the first time we meet her. I bet we’ll just know like we always do. It’s lonely down here without you.

Down where? I ask. Aren’t you in your room?

I’m sitting just outside the garden. It’s amazing. I can’t stop thinking about standing over that stream with your hands in mine. I can’t stop thinking about how happy I am, how unbelievably relieved I waited for you. I must’ve known on some level you were out there, the woman who’d complete me. And when I saw you, I knew.

You’re going to make me cry, I text, pawing at my cheek with my free hand. Remember what we said? We won’t get lost in how amazing the future’s going to be because now is amazing too. I wish I was down there with you.

We said we’d be good, he replies.

I know, I text. But what if we didn’t touch?

What if, say, you happened to come for a walk down here and sit in the garden, and I could watch you? I could watch you like I did when you were the woman on the bus when I thought you were going to glide out of my life forever.

Yeah, that would be a crazy coincidence, right.

I climb out of bed, my hand bracing my bump, careful not to move too suddenly, even as the excitement rushes around me. As I slip my baggy clothes on, again moving cautiously, I slip into my shoes and zip them up.

Eli’s been so great about pregnancy stuff, and I never feel like I have to put on a show with him. It makes me feel wild and sexy to wear something provocative for my man, but he always shows his attraction, no matter what I wear.

I walk down the hallway.

I’m on the first floor. It was the last room available on this level. Eli didn’t want me messing around with stairs or elevators. He’s always thinking of little things like that.

I follow the signs, my hand resting on my bump, and then round the corner and into a different world.

The garden is built so you can see the entire beautiful garden when you look out the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

On these walls, colors clash and dance, lighting the darkness.

It's soothing, vibrant, and beautiful.

I walk over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which has been slid aside, creating a large opening.

I stare up at the light show. I can’t figure out where they’re coming from as they clash on the wall.

In my pocket, my cell phone vibrates.

It’s not always like this.

I smile, looking around. Is this for us? Can you see me?

Yes, it’s for us. And yes, I can see you. You look beautiful.

Oh yeah?

I hold out my hand, splaying four fingers, turning in a slow circle.

My phone vibrates again. Four.

I laugh, peering out of the windows. But with the lights flashing above me and with the garden lit up with soft fairy lights – along the trickling stream, ringing the handrail of the wooden bridge – it’s hard to see. But it doesn’t matter.

He can see me.

I walk into the garden, standing on the bridge, looking into the darkness beyond, and imagining it’s tomorrow. I imagine my man standing in front of me, a smile on his lips, his intense eyes telling me he’s ready to commit forever.

I check my phone.

There’s a text.

I do.

EPILOGUE

TEN YEARS LATER

Elias

I sit on the park bench, smiling as Hudson walks across the park, carrying Parker on his shoulders.

My four-year-old son loves it when his uncle carries him like that, his arms at his sides, making flying noises.

Jaxton – or Flying Jax as he’s calling himself lately – is shooting hoops at the other end of the park with a few of his school friends. Our eight-year-old loves basketball.



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