Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
My eyes drift closed as I feel the thud of his heartbeat beneath my hands.
“I love you, Keira. I love you so much. I’m positive I loved you even before I met you.”
I sigh. “Thank you for protecting me...for saving me,” I murmur against his chest. “Thank you for letting me love you.” My eyes grow heavier with each breath, and I know I’ll never be safer than I am right now in Damon’s loving arms.
Chapter 22
Damon
She fell in love with a criminal…a fucking criminal—a man who didn’t deserve her love. A man who was certain he was unable to love in return. She took him and shaped him into a man worthy of love. She didn’t know what she had done or how much she had changed him, but every time he looked at her, he knew he wanted to be good—if only for her.
Thoughts swirl around my head, making it hard to sleep. Maybe a little midnight snack will help ease the insomnia. Gazing down at Keira, I feel I don’t want to leave her, but I’m not waking her up to bring her downstairs with me.
She needs her sleep; she barely gets enough as it is. I peel her naked body from mine. She’s sticky with sex, and I love that my scent clings to her skin, marking her as mine. I pull the comforter to her shoulders and slip from the bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.
I tiptoe from the room and close the door. Hopefully, she doesn’t wake up while I’m gone. Being away from her even for a short time enrages me. I want her with me everywhere I go—to be my shadow. But even possessive-as-hell Damon realizes how fucked up that is.
The hall is dark, but I know this house like the back of my hand, and this monster isn’t scared of anything. I walk down the hallway and hear a soft cry. It pierces the air, meeting my ears instantly.
I turn my head, pointing it in the direction I think I heard the cry. It’s so strange. It sounds exactly like the noise I heard the last time I was here.
I hold my breath, so there is absolute silence surrounding me, and for a few moments there is. Then I think I must be going crazy for the second fucking time when it goes away, but a few seconds later, I hear it again.
My feet move to follow the sound when I hear something else. I stop again and strain my ears.
Is that Xander’s voice?
I shake my head. There is no w—
Another low cry echoes through the hall, interrupting my thoughts, accompanied by Xander’s soft voice. My brother’s tone sounds soothing and kind, warm even. There’s no fucking way that’s my brother, but it’s definitely his voice. I know it.
What the fuck?
I move farther down the hall and closer to the door where I’m pretty sure the crying is coming from. My stomach does a summersault the moment my hand grips the knob. I hear Xander’s voice clearly now, and I’m more confused than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
The crying has stopped, replaced by the soft cooing of a baby.
This must be some sick joke. Some twisted fucking mind game of his. There is no way I’m going to believe my brother is caring for a baby…or has one.
I push the door open, whole-heartedly expecting him to be holding a tape recorder. What I see is biggest mindfuck of all.
A nursery decorated in light blue. A large, white crib. And Xander sitting in a rocking chair, holding a baby.
A. Fucking. Baby.
I can’t take my eyes off the baby he’s cradling in his arms. What the fuck is going on? Did he steal someone’s kid?
“Come on in, little brother. It’s time for you to meet your nephew.”
I think I’ve lost the ability to blink—hell, to even speak or walk for that matter. This has got to be a nightmare.
I watch the small baby in Xander’s arms reach up and wrap his tiny fingers around Xander’s thumb.
“Don’t just stand there, come look at him. He has a strong grip all ready. He’ll be big and strong in no time.” It’s Xander’s voice I’m hearing, but I’m unfamiliar with the tone. And the words don’t make sense.
Once my legs start working again, I step all the way into the room and move to where Xander is sitting. I look down at the small child. He has big brown eyes and black hair—just like Xander.
“Have you ever held a baby?”
Xander doesn’t wait for my answer. We both know what it is. Who the fuck would let me hold their baby?
Apparently, Xander. Because in the next moment, he gets up and places the baby in my arms.
I instinctively cradle it to my body, still not sure this isn't some fucked up joke.