Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance, Flora Ferrari [best ereader for academics .txt] 📗

I choose a flowing spring dress, the sort I know drives Solomon wild. Just last night, he savaged me from behind when I walked into the bedroom in one of these dresses, his hands magnetizing to my hips as he let out a carnal snarl of pure domination.

“Do you really think you can flutter around in that thing and not set my blood boiling?” he growled, claiming me as only my man ever will.

I lay the dress on the bed and then quickly go into the bathroom, walking across the pristine marble to the waterfall shower.

Standing under the water in this luxury shower, I’m stunned by how at home I feel. I thought there would be more of a transition for me to get used to a life of so much luxury, but with my man always hungry to treat me like a princess, I find that I can sink into the role with a fluttering belonging soothing any doubts I might have.

Just because I was born poor, it doesn’t mean I have to be ashamed of being spoiled by the man of my dreams.

I fix my hair and get dressed, and then walk through his large loft apartment to the private elevator. My stomach tingles with a thousand possibilities as the elevator rides up toward the heavens, nerves dancing and gallivanting up and down my body.

But these aren’t the self-doubting nerves that have plagued me my whole life.

These are tinged with starlight, with closeness, with love.

The door opens and for a long moment, I just stare in awe.

We came up to the roof a couple of nights ago to watch the sunset, and it was nothing like this.

It’s been transformed into a rooftop garden, greenery everywhere I look, trellises sporting ivy and large luscious leaves. Roses and dozens of other flowers form a pathway through this secret garden, an archway at the end sporting the words This way, my little dreamer, in love red letters.

I walk through the dancing scents, a hundred of them vying for my attention with each step I take. My heart couldn’t feel lighter, flooding with the importance of this moment until I feel as though I could take off from the roof and float into the sky.

I walk through the archway to be met with more impossible nature. Amidst the flowers and the trees and the colorful, scent-laden bushes, Solomon has placed prints of my artwork on easels, pieces I’ve only ever uploaded to my website.

I’ve never seen them blown up like this.

He’s chosen my nature landscapes as well as some of my portraits.

My eyes sting with tears as I drink in all the effort he’s gone through, and then I move my gaze to the ground, where he’s littered rose petals just like he did on our first date.

The rose petal path leads to another archway.

Keep going, my love, the words read.

I smooth my hands over my belly, certain I can feel my womb swelling and throbbing and singing at the majesty of this moment. If she had arms and legs, she’d be shaking them manically right now, dancing in the magical beauty of what Solomon has done for me.

Surely this means he feels the same way. Surely this means I’m not misreading this situation.

Surely this means I can finally stop doubting myself.

I walk through the archway into what seems like a grove in the middle of the forest. Solomon has had trees moved here, tall trees that rise up and make the sunlight hazy and beautiful. Leaves litter the floor, verdant greens that get my artistic juices flowing.

Solomon stands in the middle of the grove, wearing a steel-colored suit, his eyes filled with the same iron certainty.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he smiles.

He smiles.

He doesn’t smirk, but he really, actually smiles, a big ear-to-ear grin that sends more and more waves of belonging crashing into my soul each moment.

“How long have you been standing here?” I murmur, walking on dreamlike legs toward him.

“Awhile,” he says, his eyes glinting playfully. “It’s given me time to think about how much I love you.”

I gasp as I reach him, standing beneath him and staring up into the firm cut of his strong jaw. I try to speak – to return his words – but all that comes out is another gasp.

“I love you, my little dreamer,” he snarls, stepping forward and cradling my face in his giant’s hand. “I loved you the moment you stepped into my office. I’ve loved you every second since then. I’ve burned with love for you. I should’ve told you sooner, but I wanted to get this arranged first. I wanted to make it special.”

“It is,” I gush, my words croaking with tears and euphoria. “It’s the most wonderful thing that anyone has ever done for me.”

He leans down and brings his lips close to mine, our bodies teasing each other.

“I. Love. You.”

He kisses me softly, our tongues colliding, my mouth filling with all the promise and heat of our future.

“I love you too,” I sigh breathily when he pulls away from me. “Oh, Solomon, I love you so much. I didn’t know if you felt the same. I didn’t want to be the one to say it first.”

“Of course, I feel the same,” he smiles. “You’re the love of my life. You’re everything to me.”

I almost scream when he steps back and slowly lowers himself to one knee, moving fluidly, the same way he did at the café when he demonstrated that he’ll always protect our family, that he’ll always protect me.

He reaches into his inside pocket, taking out a ring box, keeping his eyes fixated on me the whole while.

Even when he becomes all blurry with my tears – even when the world seems to start spinning – his eyes sear into me, pinning me in place, looking at me as nobody ever has before.

“Sophia, I love you,” he growls, a beast claiming his mate. “You, me, our future, it’s all I can think