Firecracker – Smoke Read Online Abbi Glines

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)

Being the second son of a mafia boss has its perks. The money and power without the pressure of running the damn thing one day. Trev Hughes was everyone’s favorite playboy. He possessed the Hughes sex appeal without the intimidating presence.

The last time a gorgeous blonde walked into his life he never stood a chance. She had belonged to his older brother from the very beginning. However, when he uses one of his best pickup lines on a girl he notices across the room at a gala, tricks her into a kiss, and loses her before midnight he’s determined to find his Cinderella.

Trev Hughes was nothing like Gypsi had expected. He was funny and down to earth. She enjoyed his attention and the taste of his kiss still lingered on her lips. Disappearing into the night had been the only way to keep herself from making a mistake. Trev was destined to only be her friend. She just hoped she could learn to control the way he made her stomach flutter and heart race.

Trev soon finds out that he hadn’t lost his Cinderella. In fact, she would soon be living right down the hall… since Gypsi was about to become his stepsister.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.

—Mark Twain



Horse racing was in my blood. It was the second-most important part of my family’s legacy. However, if I was being brutally honest, this was my favorite part of the Kentucky Derby weekend—the Derby Eve gala. I typically hated fucking galas, but not this one. I didn’t even mind wearing a tux. My best friend didn’t seem to share my sentiments. Saxon Houston looked annoyed. He was definitely here for the races. Horse racing was his first love.

Smirking, I turned toward him to lay one of my smart-ass comments that would get a smile out of the guy when my eyes found someone else instead. All other thoughts left me. The music being performed onstage by some old famous dude faded away. It was as if no one else was in the room. Just her.

Fucking hell, she was smokin’.

The lights caught the different shades of blonde in her long, curly hair. Bare, sun-kissed shoulders and—holy shit—that body in that formfitting hot-pink dress. She wasn’t looking at me. Not directly. Her focus was on the old dude singing. From where I stood, her lips looked full. I wanted to see her eyes. I had a thing about eyes.

“I’ll be back—maybe,” I said, not taking my gaze off her when I spoke to Saxon.

“Where are you—oh,” he replied, and I knew that he’d spotted my target.

He could keep his nice-guy bullshit right where it was. I had seen her first.

Moving through the crowd, I didn’t even stop to speak to the Packers quarterback who had grown up in Ocala. Our families were friends. Even if Jon Bon Jovi stepped in front of me—and I was pretty sure he was here—I wasn’t stopping.

She took a sip from the drink in her hand and finally let her gaze travel across the room.

Who was she with? Why the fuck was she alone?

Reaching her side, I pulled out all my Hughes charm and decided she was about to fall hard. I’d make sure of it.

“You owe me a drink,” I said, leaning down close to her ear.

The tiniest jerk of her shoulders was followed by a slow turn of her body toward me. She lifted her eyes and … fuck me.

“I doubt it,” she replied. Her thick Southern drawl was a smooth, smoky sound.

What color were her eyes? Honey? Could eyes be the color of honey? Because hers looked like warm honey with sunlight shining through. I struggled to get my head back in the game after she’d thrown me off with eyes I hadn’t expected.

“Ah, but you do.” I flashed her a smile that had been working for me since puberty.

She smirked. “Please continue. I can’t wait to hear the rest of this cheesy pickup line.”

Okay, fine, it was a pickup line, but, damn, it wasn’t cheesy. It was fucking smooth.

“Because when I saw you, I dropped mine.”

A grin tugged at those full pink lips, and then she laughed.

Score. It’d worked.

“What color are your eyes?” I asked, fascinated.

“Hazel,” she replied with another laugh.

I shook my head. “No, I’ve seen hazel eyes. That is something else. Sunshine and honey.”

“Now, what would you have said if they’d been blue? What’s your pickup line for that color?”

“That wasn’t a line. I’m fucking serious.”

“Mmhmm,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“You don’t believe me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Does it really matter? I don’t even know you.”

Ah, but we were gonna fix that.

I held out my hand. “Trev Hughes,” I said.

The flicker of recognition in her eyes told me she must be connected to the horse racing world. Not just a guest or someone wanting to experience the Kentucky Derby. She knew the last name Hughes. Her eyes lowered to look at my hand as if she wasn’t sure if touching me was something she wanted to do.

What had Dad done to her family? He’d better not have fucked this up for me before it even had a chance.

I started to attempt damage control when she finally lifted her hand and slid it inside mine. Her skin was soft, and her hand was dainty with pink nails to match her dress. I liked how my hand seemed to swallow hers. A weird tightening in my chest that I wasn’t familiar with struck me.

“Gypsi Parker,” she replied.

I could see in her gaze that she was searching mine for any recognition. But I’d never met anyone named Gypsi in my life, and there was no fucking way I’d have forgotten her. Especially with those eyes.

Reluctantly, I released her hand but stepped closer to her, then bent my head to whisper in her ear. “I know you aren’t here alone,” I said. “Please tell me there isn’t a guy somewhere who has a claim on you.”

She laughed again. “That’s a tricky question.”