Cleo Miranda Adams is a part-time clerk at a small antique shop and an aspiring guitarist. Music has been part of her life since birth. After a tough loss, she focuses on building a name for herself and doing what she loves.
Billionaire and perfecti...
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"And with you, I feel safe. With you, it feels right. You make my heart glow. I want y... noooo," I erase the lyrics. I bite the top of the pencil while I think.
"You are my light in the darkest night. You are my laugh and my smile," I hum and sing the rest of the lyrics. "Perfect." I pick up my guitar and try the melody.
"And with you-" someone knocks on the door. I'm at home today. Uncle Fabian gave me a day off.
"Who is it?" I yell, and I stand to walk to the door, resting my guitar on the sofa.
"It's me, baby," I hear Chris' voice, and my walk turns into an uncontrollable run. I swing open the door and run into his strong arms. "Hi," I whisper into his chest.
"Hi, baby girl," I love that name. He buries his face in my neck. We hold on for a few seconds before letting go and going inside to sit on the couch. Thankfully, I packed away my songbook.
We'll get there soon.
"Don't you have work today? What are you doing here?" I ask, laying my head on his lap.
"I can't come and see my girlfriend now?" He smirks down at me. Smartass.
"Of course, you can, but I thought I was seeing you later," I answer. We planned a date at my house tonight, and I gave him my apartment number beforehand.
"Took a time out. More time with you," he bends and kisses me. God, I love his kisses.
"I missed you," I say with our lips still attached.
"Missed you too, princess," he says before pulling away and giving me an Eskimo kiss. "Do you have any clothes for me to wear?" He asks.
"I have some jerseys your size but, you will have to figure out your pants situation by yourself," I smirk.
"Fine by me," he winks. I get up and grab a white V-neck.
You may ask why I have oversized jerseys. Simply because I am not obligated to wear a bra and underwear every day. The girls need air sometimes.
I walk back outside to find this man only in his boxers. His suit was long discarded and folded neatly over my couch. Why is he so handsome? He is looking at some pictures on my shelf so, I take the opportunity to admire that fine butt of his.
This man is built. The muscles in his back are defined and masculine, and his legs were toned to perfection. He really is built like a wall. I'm really starting to wonder if he's human. "Staring is rude, tesoro," he turns around, and winks.
"Not when I'm staring at what's mine," I quip. My gaze shifts down, and I can see the outline of him, and let me tell you, it's big. A bit bold there, Cleo. I pull my wandering thoughts back.
