“Promise?”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a more beautiful smile than the one my bombshell gave me day after day. “Absolutely.”
The End.
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PROLOGUE
Gypsy
Those stunning hazel eyes stared down at me, the intensity in them penetrating the shield I kept around my heart at the same time his perfect cock stroked that place deep inside me.
It was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
Dangerous.
Explosive.
So. Incredibly. Hot.
The power behind his thrusts was scrambling my brain and making it impossible to think. All I could do was feel as he drove in and out with the perfect rhythm.
“Marco,” I moaned, throwing my head back as my body strung tighter and my nails dug into his back. God, it had never been like this.
So good. So sweet.
It was perfect.
He was perfect.
“That’s it, girasol.” The rich, husky cadence of his voice forced my eyelids open. The greenish brown of his eyes was nearly swallowed by lustful black. “Give it to me. Let me hear how much you love what I’m doing to you.”
I was about to. I could feel my release growing, building into something so powerful it scared me.
I let out one last whimper as Marco slammed in deep, grinding against my clit. That was all it took. My mouth fell open and—
The shrill buzz of my alarm clock sounded and I shot up, panting and gasping for air. A clammy sweat coated the goose bumps that covered my skin, and it took several seconds for me to get my bearings and realize it was just a dream.
“Shit,” I whispered, flopping back on my mattress as I tried to calm my frantic heart and shallow breathing. That was the third sex dream I’d had about the undeniably sexy Marco Castillo, and each one was more detailed and vivid than the last.
All it took was one word. One freaking word and a sultry look at my friend Nona’s backyard barbecue a few weeks ago, and I was done for.
On the few occasions I allowed myself to daydream, to hope, I could still feel that look from him like a physical touch. I could hear him calling me “girasol” in that smoky voice, and it never failed to elicit a shiver from me when I thought about the smooth way his tongue rolled on that r.
But it wasn’t just the word said in that beautiful accent that turned me into an achy, needy puddle of desire. It was the meaning behind it. I’d looked it up about a million times. Partly because I was hoping the more I saw it, the more desensitized I’d become, but mainly because I loved the way it made me feel. As ridiculous as it sounded, having him call me “sunflower” as opposed to “babe” or “sweetheart” or something equally innocuous made it seem like I was… special.
See? Ridiculous!
“Shit,” I repeated, then again with more passion as I kicked at the mess of tangled covers around my legs. “Shit, shit, shit.”
This was bad. So, so bad.
I couldn’t afford to let myself get hung up on Marco Castillo. A man like him wasn’t for the likes of me. And as much as I didn’t want it to, that realization depressed me. My life was all drama and baggage and constant headaches.
And speaking of my life….
The slam of a door sounded through the paper-thin walls, quickly followed by a loud pounding and my sister Sunshine shouting, “Rhodes, get outta the bathroom! I need to do my makeup!”
“No way in hell!” he yelled in return. “You’ll hog it all damn mornin’!”
As the two teenagers in the house, fifteen and seventeen respectively, both kids were infamous bathroom hogs.
Lifting my arms, I pressed the heels of my palms into my forehead, hoping to stave off the inevitable headache. I knew what was coming next. It was the same thing every freaking morning.
Like clockwork, the Sunny and Rhodes shouting match was quickly followed by a sharp squall from my youngest brother, two-year-old Raleigh.
After that, it was full-blown chaos.
My bedroom door crashed open, and my six-year-old sister Holiday stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and pulling off an unhappy glare at the same time.
“Morning, doodlebug,” I offered with a smile at my adorable little sister.
“Rhodes and Sunny woke the baby again,” she grumbled, moving into the room and climbing into my bed.
Seeing as there wasn’t nearly enough room in our house, Holly was forced to bunk with Raleigh and Sunny, while Rhodes and my nine-year-old brother Raylan shared another room. So when Raleigh woke, Holly woke. And my baby sis was not a morning person.
“You got a few more minutes, honey,” I said softly, reaching up to brush her thick, shiny blonde hair from her face. “Rest your eyes, and I’ll come get you in a bit.”
And just like that, she was out like a light again.
Heading out of my room, I crossed the narrow hallway into Holly and Raleigh’s, moving to the crib to pick up my screaming brother.
“Hey, punk,” I cooed, propping him on my hip and brushing the tears from his chubby pink cheeks. “What’s all that noise about, huh?”
Wrapping his arms around my neck, he burrowed his face against my shoulder and rubbed it there, still half asleep.
“That’s it, punkin,” I whispered as his cries turned to whimpers, then stuttered breaths. A second later, he was my calm, sweet baby once again.
“Gypsy!” Raylan yelled. His tone was laced with an anger I understood the moment he added, “Rhodes ate all the Cocoa Pebbles again!” To say my brother was a finnicky eater was a massive understatement, so if we happened to run out of one of the only foods he was willing to eat, it was DEFCON 1. Luckily, I was prepared.
Brushing off the frustration I was all too familiar with, I jumped into action and headed back down the hall toward the kitchen. “Relax, little bro. I got you covered.” With Lee still perched on my hip, I used my free hand to open the cabinet where I usually kept the spices and reached to the very top shelf where I’d stashed a box of Cocoa Pebbles no one else knew about.
Raylan gave me wide eyes before twisting his lips into a pleased grin. “Sweet!”
Wrangling the Bradbury clan was like trying to herd cats. However, I had years of experience, so I was pretty damn good at it.
Our folks hadn’t been good for much other than pushing out kids and gracing them with embarrassing names, so the moment Rhodes had come into the world, the responsibility of raising him had fallen on my own eight-year-old shoulders. Sunshine came two years later, and it was the same gig. Over and over again for years.
Then something in Danny and Peggy Bradbury changed when Raleigh came into the picture. They decided they weren’t the type of people who wanted to be parents after all, and I woke up one morning to discover they’d bailed.