Husband To Go Read online

  Husband To Go

  A Man of the House Romance

  S.C. Adams

  Copyright © 2019 by S.C. Adams

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Under Cover Designs

  Created with Vellum

  For my Readers

  Contents

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  About This Book

  1. Kylie

  2. Kylie

  3. Kylie

  4. Tanner

  5. Kylie

  6. Tanner

  7. Kylie

  8. Tanner

  9. Tanner

  10. Kylie

  11. Kylie

  12. Tanner

  13. Tanner

  14. Kylie

  15. Kylie

  16. Tanner

  17. Tanner

  18. Kylie

  19. Kylie

  20. Kylie

  21. Tanner

  22. Tanner

  23. Kylie

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Size King

  About the Author

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  About This Book

  He’s huge, growly, off-the-charts gorgeous – and also my mom’s fiancé.

  I’ve always wanted to meet the man of my dreams, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I went to my mom’s engagement party expecting the same as always: flowers, cake, and lots of boring conversation.

  But instead, I saw him…

  … and even worse, he recognized me because we accidentally met last night!

  I swear, I didn’t know who Tanner was then. He was just a hot guy at a club, with perfect lips, blue eyes like lasers, and rough, strong hands that made me melt. I don’t even usually do *that*, I swear.

  But now wedding bells are ringing.

  Tanner’s the groom …

  … and my mom’s the bride!

  What do I do?

  It’s crazy. It’s insane. Reality has just gone flying out the window along with all semblance of sanity. Instead, indulge in a steamy story about the man of the house and his tempting brat, but don’t be surprised if you need a cold shower after the pages burst with flame! Reader beware.

  As with all my books, this one is safe, with no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.

  1

  Kylie

  I’ve been waffling between whether or not coming out tonight was a good idea. It’s not like my friends gave me much of a choice. Every time I said no, I was met with the saddest pouts. Andrea, my closest buddy, was particularly convincing.

  “But Kylie, you have to come! I want to be the fairy godmother that guides you through your ho phase!”

  I giggled a little before relenting. I’m not sure I’m even built for a “ho phase,” so to speak, but I couldn’t look into her faux sad eyes and say no.

  So now I’m here, hanging out in a club, and the music is insanely loud. There are bodies mooshing together in almost every corner. Usually, I’d be totally uncomfortable at a place like this, but I do have a slight buzz that’s taking the edge off. And it’s kind of fun being out with all my friends. Typically, I refuse their invitations to go clubbing because it’s not my scene at all, but after a long week, this is a nice change of pace.

  Plus, I am having a good time. Usually, my weekends would just be me curled up on my couch with a book and a hot cup of tea on a novelty coaster. Nothing too exciting, but it’s what I like to do. Plus, there’s only one chapter left for me to finish my book and I’ve been looking forward to trying out that new loose tea I bought from the specialty tea shop.

  Or maybe I’m here because I know I’m lame in real life. Novelty coasters? Loose-leaf teas? I sound like I’m an eighty-year-old cat lady who knits while rocking back and forth. Plus, I’m a junior in college and haven’t been able to shake that FOMO feeling lately. FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out. At least that’s what my friends say. According to them, my life’s passing before my very eyes, and I’ll die alone and eaten by wolves before anyone finds my body.

  The imagery did it. I’m tired of being boring. I want to be fun and cool, at least for one night. These are supposed to be some of the best days of my life, and I should be living it up. As a result, I’m ready for something completely different tonight.

  “Kylie! Kylie!” Andrea yells. She bounces over to me, two shot glasses in hand. “Here!” She pushes a glass into my hand, keeping the other for herself.

  My guess is that this is more tequila. It’s been the drink of choice tonight, and I am definitely feeling it.

  Looking down at the small glass, I debate taking another shot. I’m for sure drunk at this point but being drunker could be even more fun, I suppose. Andrea sees my hesitation, and her fingers lift up the bottom of my glass.

  “Bottoms up, sweetie!”

  Going with the flow, I down the shot. Seeing that this is the third one we’ve done tonight, there’s no longer a burn, and the tequila goes down smoother than silk.

  “Okay, now it’s time to partaaayyyy!” Andrea gets rid of our shot glasses and drags me to the middle of the dance floor where the rest of our group is swaying to the beat. My hands go up in the air, and I move my hips back and forth. I’ve reached a point where I don’t care. I just want to have fun.

  “Hey!” Kelly yells. Her voice is barely audible over the pulsating bass, but her excitement catches my ear.

  “Look at the hot guy over there!” We all crane our heads to where she’s pointing. I figure it’s just going to be some hooked-on-steroids frat boy with a too-tight t-shirt already stained with sweat, but the man who catches my eye is completely different. Holy cow. My jaw drops and I literally feel the air exit my lungs because he has to be the sexiest man in the world. Maybe in the universe, if there is any intelligent life in places other than Earth. Even with how dim it is, his chiseled features and huge, dominant build are obvious, filling out his fancy suit like a male model.

  I mean he is H-O-T.

  “Oh my god, Kylie. Go talk to him!” Andrea’s already pushing me in his direction. She’s been trying to find me a hook up all night, and I’ve skillfully dodged all her recommendations. But this guy, he’s in a league of his own. So much so, in fact, that I don’t belong in his orbit.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I mumble, looking at the floor while shuffling my feet. Approaching men has never been something I do because so many things can go wrong. None of us even know the guy. What if he thinks I’m desperate or gross or something else wholly embarrassing?

  “Come on, girl! Let your freak flag fly!” my friend squeals. I guess it could be a bit of fun. After all, I came out tonight for a reason - it’s supposed to be the dawn of a bolder, cooler Kylie Mitchell. Andrea’s right, I can afford to get a little freaky. Being someone totally different from who I am has been fun so far, so why not take it to its next logical step?

  I grab the closest shot glass, down whatever’s in it, and give my outfit a few last-minute adjustments. It’s a tight skirt and skanky top borrowed from my roommate.

  Here we go.

  I weave through the crowd, getting closer to the VIP area. We had a minimal view of him from our little corner of the club, but something about him seemed intoxicating, even from afar. And like I said H-O-T. Maybe the alcohol is a contributing factor, but I am raring to go.

  If his good looks are the result of beer goggles, then that’s something I can live with. But I doubt alcohol could make someone look this fantastic. His hair is jet black, swept off a high,
aristocratic forehead. He has a strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones with cruel lips. They’re turned up a bit at the moment, as if this crowd isn’t his usual scene.

  After getting to the VIP area, I realize there’s no plan for me to get past the little barricade. Should I just push it aside? No one’s really guarding it. What’s the worst that could happen?

  “Excuse me?” I say hesitantly, looking around with my hand on the velvet rope. “Um, can I move this?”

  Of course, no one even notices me. Bodies twist and turn, colors swirling on the dance floor. I look around, my cheeks flushing. Should I just unhook the little gold clasp, and let myself in?

  Suddenly, a voice interrupts.

  “Can I help you?”

  I look up to find Mr. Sexy standing right in front of me. He is stupid hot up close. Almost too hot for words. Dark hair, blue eyes, solid body, everything just perfect.

  I want to reach out and touch him.

  In fact, I want to reach out and do a lot more than touch him, but this isn’t the time. I shake out my thoughts and bring myself back to reality.

  “Hi. Um, hello. How are you?” Do I sound too drunk? I feel a little out of it, and I’m positive I sound like an idiot. That last tequila shot really hit different somehow.

  “I’m fine,” he says, sounding quite amused. At least that’s better than upset. It means I might have a chance, a chance to maybe get in those pants.

  Ugh, that was a corny thought.

  “Did you want to come in?” He cocks an eyebrow, inviting me to venture into his little secluded part of the club. I’m surprised he’s so willing to let me, a stranger, pass, but I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Yeah!” I say, jumping on the opportunity. With limited grace, I wrangle the velvet rope so that I’m past it, and shoot him a shaky smile. The man grins and goes back to his seat, but I look around quickly. After all, you don’t get that many opportunities to be in the VIP section.

  From this vantage point, you can see everything going on in the club. My friends are still huddled around one another, enjoying the music. I wonder if this guy just came to people watch? He wasn’t on the dance floor earlier because it would have been hard to miss him. He must turn heads everywhere he goes.

  So, did he come here to hang out? I swing towards the handsome man, putting on my best smile. He looks amused.

  “You can sit if you want,” he says, patting the couch beside him.

  “Oh thanks,” I manage in a tolerably normal tone. Maybe I’m being too bold as I sit close to him, my curves almost rubbing up against his hard, masculine frame. We’re not alone per se, but at least we’re rather secluded.

  But I can’t help myself, so I smile again. His smirk widens.

  Sitting this close to him, I can see Mr. Mysterious is quite a bit older than me. At least in his forties, not that that’s making him any less sexy. In fact, I think I’m hotter under the collar because of it – I like a guy with some experience. God, I hope that doesn’t make me weird.

  His eyes scan my body, moving with a delicious slowness. They’re boring through me, getting down to my very essence.

  “So, do you come here often?” he rumbles.

  A chuckle escapes before I can smother it. It sounds like I’m choking on something, which is unattractive to say the least.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” Oh no, I’m already messing up. This guy is the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life, but my flirting game is way off. Not that it was very on to begin with.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s just that,” I start backtracking, “I’m not used to being hit on. I’m sorry,” I apologize, wrinkling my nose.

  Ugh. I sound like a dumb little girl. He didn’t hit on me and he possibly can’t be interested in someone like me, not really. He probably wants someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

  Why do I have to act so stupid? I could kick myself from embarrassment. One of his brows arches.

  “I can’t believe that,” he says. My forehead furrows.

  “Why not?” I ask. After all, it makes sense. I’ve never really been able to attract the opposite sex. Maybe it’s because my boobs are too big or the fact that my head is always buried in a book. I don’t know, but there’s something about me that repels the male gender. My mother would say I just lack the necessary skills, but I’m not even sure what that means.

  “You’re much too pretty to ignore,” he rumbles with another amused smile.

  “Oh, thanks!” I say quickly. “Um, great.”

  His hand lands on my knee, snaking up to my inner thigh.

  “Is this okay?” His fingers massage my thigh, tickling my insides. I’m hyper aware of everything around me: the music, the lights, people dancing, talking, and laughing. Hot breath skims the outside of my ear.

  “This is great,” I say, barely able to breathe. My heart is going at a million miles an hour, and I feel like I might hyperventilate at any second.

  “Should I keep going?” he whispers.

  I turn to face him; our lips are close to touching. Almost instinctively, my legs open up, giving him all the access he needs.

  Without lowering his eyes, his hand travels further and further up my leg. The couch pushes against my palms as I tense up, doing what I can to relieve the pressure. I’ve never done anything like this, I swear. I’ve never had a man touch me so intimately in such a private place.

  “Are you going to…?” I can’t even finish my thought. Oh, my cheeks are on fire. Thank god he can’t see how flushed I am in the darkness. I’m not totally inexperienced, but I haven’t done a lot either.

  “Am I going to what?” he growls with that amused smile again. I don’t want to ask the question on my mind, so I make a substitution.

  “What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

  He doesn’t even hesitate.

  “Whatever you want me to, pretty girl.” Those blue eyes search mine, and up close, I notice their pure cobalt color. They’re gorgeous, like lasers in the darkness of the club. I feel his fingers dig into my thigh, the power in him making me shiver deep inside.

  We’ll do whatever I want.

  But the real question is, what do I want?

  I search his eyes for an answer. But they’re impossible to read, the deep blue stormy and yet soothing at the same time. I take a deep breath.

  “Do you want to do something crazy?” I ask hesitantly.

  I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the music, or just his proximity, but I feel electric. I want every piece of this man as quickly as possible

  “Crazy how?” he asks with that same half-smile.

  “Well, we could…,” my hands come to my face because I don’t want to say it. Even at my boldest, I can’t verbalize this overt behavior.

  So instead, I kiss him. Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, I pull his lips down to mine, pressing my mouth against those perfectly-sculpted lips. He’s surprised at first, and unmoving, but then he takes charge and suddenly, I’m being devoured. He’s all over me, making me moan and whimper with desire as I’m truly kissed for the first time. Honestly, if his hands hadn’t seized my curves, I would have fallen off of this couch into a puddle of hormones, and that would have been awkward.

  His chest vibrates as he presses into me, impossibly huge and broad. Absentmindedly, I bring my hand down to his lap, but I skate away, breathing hard, when I touch something rigid.

  “Oh!” I exclaim. We break apart, and I look down to see the outline of his cock in his pants. Oh god. It’s massive. It extends so far down, that it practically reaches the crease in his trousers where his knee starts. How is this anatomically possible? Even more, how am I going to manage it?

  Oh, shit.

  The man lifts up my chin, looking deep into my eyes with that same amused half-smile. Something tells me that he’s used to women being shocked at his sheer size.

  “Why don’t we take it slow?” he growls. The stranger moves his hand
down to my neck and then over to the strap of my top. With a delicate touch, he pushes the thick strap off of my shoulder.

  I somehow feel more naked even though my shoulder was already out. I shiver at the thought of what’s about to happen.

  He kisses down my neck and over to my clavicle, and I moan a bit, tossing my head back. Licking a bit before chuckling, Mr. Handsome takes his lips away from my skin which makes me shiver. It’s what I wanted, but not really at the same time, if that makes sense. I just want him, and suddenly being left alone brings me to my senses. The club is dark, and people are still dancing away, but it suddenly feels like everyone’s watching us.

  “Are people looking?” I whisper, shooting discreet glances at the dance floor.

  He leans back in his seat, regarding me.

  “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “Well,” I start. “I don’t want to get caught.” He chuckles softly.

  “No one’s watching, sweetheart, I assure you.” I take a look over the club, and he’s right. Everyone is too enamored with whatever they’re doing to even throw a glance our way. And all my friends have scattered, making out with the random guys they’ve been flirting with tonight.

  As a result, the only thing stopping me is myself.

  And I don’t want to stop.

  Taking a long and deep breath, I scoot myself onto his lap. His eyebrows arch with surprise, but then he smiles, pulling me close to that warm bulk. A big palm finds its way to my upper leg before he pauses.