This Is Love Read online Natasha Madison (This is #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: This Is Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
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“I can,” I tell her, and we talk for an hour, even after she gets her food, and the next night when I get to her apartment, I’m shocked to find her waiting for me at the door. “Hey,” I say, grabbing her around her waist and carrying her to her bedroom. After dumping my bag on the floor, it takes her five seconds to get naked and a second more for me to plant myself inside her. She is fast asleep when I come back from my shower, and I collect her in my arms and pull her close to me.

“Good morning,” she tells me the next morning when I walk into the kitchen while she is making eggs. I walk to her and wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her neck.

“Is that my shirt?” I ask of the dress shirt she’s wearing.

“It smells like you,” she says, smiling, looking at me from the side. “Go make coffee. It’s almost done.”

I make myself coffee and then bring it to the table, and she walks out two minutes later with two plates. “I made spinach and feta omelets,” she says, putting the plates down and then coming back to the kitchen. “And bacon and some sausage.” She puts down two more plates and kisses my lips before she sits down in front of me.

“What time did you get up?” I ask her, looking at the spread.

“I think it was about an hour ago. I had some things to do,” she says and takes a piece of bacon and bites off a piece.

“Strange thing happened to me this week,” I say. “I came across this blog.” I look up at her and see that she’s stopped eating her bacon. “Really, really good blog. The Serial Dater.”

“Mark,” she says, and I shake my head.

“My question is are you going to change your name?” I ask her. “Because you aren’t a serial dater anymore.”

“How did you find me?” she asks me.

“Evan,” I answer her, and her mouth drops open. “He doesn’t know it’s you, though,” I tell her, and she releases a big sigh. “I take it no one knows?”

“Karrie,” she tells me. “She’s the only one who knows about it.”

“What about Matthew?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.

“God, no. It started as a joke, and then it just exploded, and I, well …” She puts her hands up.

“I never mentioned you by name.”

“I know. I read it,” I tell her, and she looks at me shocked. “Not everything. I stopped when it started talking about other men or, as you called them, conquests.”

“That was before,” she says, and I nod my head. “It’s not now.”

“I am going home for Christmas,” I tell her. “And I want you to come with me.” I watch her, and I don’t know what I’m expecting or, if I’m honest, I’m expecting her to come up with excuses.

“Mark,” she says, “what if your parents don’t like me?”

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“Mark, I have no filter,” she tells me. “My best friend walked in and saw me on my knees, and I didn’t even care.” She laughs nervously. “What if I say something, and then they don’t like me?”

“One, I don’t think that my family will ever catch you on your knees, and …” I push away from the table and then hold out my hand. She gets up from her side of the table and walks over, sitting on my lap. “My family is going to love you.” I push her hair away from her face. “You know why?” She shakes her head. “Because I love you, so my parents will do what they need to do in order to love you, too.” I smile at her. “It’s the way it is.”

“I’ve never met parents before,” she says while her finger plays with my collarbone. “But I swear I’ll be on my best behavior,” she says. “I mean, I’m going to talk to Karrie, and maybe I can take a course or something of what to do and what not to do.” I laugh now and kiss her lips. “I think we should see what the omelets taste like cold.” She moves in my lap and straddles me now. Moving my shorts down, she slowly lowers herself down on me. My hands rip open the shirt she’s wearing, and I cup her tits while she rides me; the only sounds in the room are the pants coming from both of us. When she finally comes, I let go, wrapping my arms around her waist, and she buries her face in my neck. I get up and carry us both to the shower.

“I want to show you something,” she says to me while she stands next to the sink putting on cream. I’m running my hands through my hair, and a towel is wrapped around my waist. I nod at her, then slip on my boxers. She holds her hand out to me and walks me toward a door that is always closed when I am over, but I never thought anything of it. She turns the handle, and we walk into her office. It’s clean and bright and cheery, but that isn’t what I’m looking at. Instead, I’m looking at where she has her articles. “This article was the first one I published with the magazine.” She points at it and smiles. “This is the first blog post ever.” She points at it, and I look around, and I’m so proud of everything she has done.



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