Vows of Love Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
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“Don’t blame yourself, Lennox. This is all on her so-called parents. It worked out. She’ll be here for the wedding, then Avery and I will travel up to New York in August to help her get settled in her dorm.”

I smiled proudly. “Thanks for taking care of her.” Gabe was a good man, and Avery was a lucky woman.

“Of course. She’s like a sister to me.”

I started to say something else, but his attention had wandered back to the door where he’d last seen Avery.

“Go on,” I told him, smirking. “I know you want to follow her. I’m just going to drop my stuff in my suite and head out to the pool.” He shot me a grateful smile before stalking in the same direction his bride had gone.

Right before he went outside, he turned and called out, “Have dinner with me and Avery tonight.”

“Sure,” I answered. He gave me a chin lift in acknowledgment, then disappeared outside.

Key in hand, I made my way to my room and unpacked. Once that was done, I called housekeeping to come take my custom-tailored Armani suit to be pressed for the wedding. With nothing left to do but relax, I changed into trunks and a pair of deck shoes, stuck a pair of Bvlgari sunglasses on my nose, and grabbed a shirt and towel to take with me to the pool.

With my football team and other business ventures, I hadn’t taken a vacation in years. I was looking forward to some downtime.

The air was sticky and hot, pretty much the norm for a June day in Florida. This meant the pool area was packed, and it only took one quick glance around to know there were no open loungers.

There were private cabanas, and for the right price, I probably could have had one cleared out for me. However, that wasn’t my style. I enjoyed the comforts of being a billionaire, but I wasn’t an asshole. Outside the boardroom at least.

Figuring something would eventually open up, I headed to the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks with a twist. When my drink arrived, I wandered toward the beach, wondering if I’d find a place to chill.

Just before I reached the steps that would take me down into the sand, I spied an open chair to my right. I turned toward it, intent on getting there before someone else spotted the free space. But then my gaze strayed to the lounger next to it, and I froze.

After a few moments, I double-blinked to make sure the vision in front of me was real. When it didn’t disappear, the breath caught in my lungs whooshed out.

A woman was lying on the sun chair, her body relaxed and glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. The way it probably looked after a bout of hot, sweaty sex. She had an hourglass figure worthy of a 1950s pinup. With full breasts and round hips, her body was made for breeding. Soft curls of white-blond hair that ended just above her shoulders were held back from her classically beautiful features by a gold headband that matched her swimsuit. If you could call what she was wearing a swimsuit. The scraps of fabric could barely be classified as a bikini.

The suit was sexy as fuck, but that thing was going in the trash ASAP. Her curves belonged to me. She was mine and only mine.

Mine? What the fuck?

She couldn’t be. She was clearly much, much too young for me. She…

Well, shit. Gabe had been right.

The second I saw her, she became mine. I already felt the obsession and surges of possessiveness coursing through my body.

Her blissful expression made me wonder how she’d look when she was coming down from the high of an orgasm. The thought had my cock hardening in my trunks, so I moved my towel in front of me.

I noticed someone approaching in my peripheral vision, and my head swung in their direction. My expression made it clear that going near my woman meant putting their life in my tightly clenched hands.

A young male server—who couldn’t have been more than twenty and looked like he could be a professional surfer—stopped in his tracks a few feet away. He glanced at my girl, then stared at me like a deer in headlights.

I held out my hand, and he quickly gave me a pink girly drink with a flowered umbrella, then scurried away. My eyes returned to the goddess I intended to claim, and I stepped forward until I was all she would see when she opened her eyes.

2

LENNOX

Ifigured that blocking her sun would get her attention. I was proven right when her eyes drifted open, and she snapped, “I’m trying to…”

Her words trailed off as her gaze took in my six-foot, two-inch muscular frame. I wasn’t ignorant of my effect on women. I stayed in shape at the gym and played sports, so my open shirt showed off my chiseled abs with a smattering of hair on my chest. My dirty blond hair—mixed with some silver—was shoulder-length, but it was pulled back in a man bun at the moment. I’d also been told that my blue eyes were “piercing” by the woman who interviewed me when I was put on the “World’s Sexiest Billionaires” list. Something I still owed Justice a right hook for since he’d suggested me to the magazine.


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