Dramatic, Mushy, Complicated Love Leah Sharelle (best story books to read .TXT) 📖

“It’s you, me, and our baby, Meadow, for the rest of our lives. Now kiss me, I haven’t had your lips for three weeks, and I need that sweet connection, or else I will die.”

Closing the short distance between us, Luca covered my mouth in the sweetest, most passionate kiss. His tongue demanding to be let in, and of course, I let it, opening my mouth wide to accommodate him.

“You are so mushy,” I panted when I pulled away for a needed intake of air.

“Hmmm, well, you are dramatic, as is your family,” he countered, pecking at the corners of my lips, his hands at the small of my back and heading inside the waistband of my pyjama bottoms.

“I can also be complicated, remember.” My hiss loud when he traced the tips of his fingers along the crack of my butt.

“Tell me about it! Your independent streak is going to put me in an early grave.” A moan rumbling in his throat when I licked the length of his neck with the flat of my tongue, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

“But you love me anyway, don’t ya, Spunk?”

Luca stilled his fingers, his forehead leaning on mine. His deep sigh happy and contented.

“With everything I am, Meadow Tessler. More and more every day and will forever.”

Smiling at him, his handsome face blurred from the wetness gathering in my eyes.

This man was my future, my beginning and my ending. Family could be a pain in the arse at times, but life would be boring with normal. Right?

Rubbing my nose up his then down again, I kissed the tip.

“You are so mushy,” I repeated in a whisper before my lips claimed his again.

“Only for you, baby, only for you.”

“Wife, why are you on your feet?” I demanded to know, coming up behind my bride and wrapping my arms around her massive belly, my hands not quite meeting.

“Umm, because I am dancing, husband. And please make more of an effort to get your hands to reach together; honestly, Spunk, didn’t your vows include the words to do anything in your power to make me happy?” Meadow sassed, leaning her head back, fitting it into my neck, her hands resting on my forearms. During the course of the night, I’d tossed the tie and rolled up my sleeves. Meadow’s hand with her new wedding band resting on my new tattoo. I finally decided to finish off my sleeve after much thought and discussions with Meadow. At first, I didn’t know how to add to the tribal design, but my stunner took over and came up with a never-ending mandala knot. It wrapped all the way around my forearm with the letters making up her name entwined throughout the knot. It stopped just above my wrist so I could still wear a shirt to meetings and push the sleeves up just a little and not reveal my ink.

It was perfect, just like the woman in my arms.

“I believe so, and I remember you said something along the lines that you promised to make my life easier by doing as you are told,” I retorted, loving the easy banter we were so good at with each other.

“I said I would try, not promise. Wash your ears out, Spunk, as if I would promise you that,” Meadow scoffed at the same time one of my two children kicked under my palm.

To say Meadow and I were surprised when we found out she was carrying twins was a major understatement. Our minds were blown was more fitting. We left the doctor’s office so stunned I even let Meadow drive home. Seven months pregnant! According to the baby doc, one of the babies had stayed hidden behind its twin for the first two trimesters. Now, she was about to pop, and we only married that day. Meadow was stubborn and annoyingly persistent that we postponed the wedding until everything was fixed properly between Mum, the girls and me. As much as I hated that Meadow had dragged her feet to take my last name, I had to grudgingly agree that she had been right.

It took months of quarrelling with Mum and Kayla, deep and meaningful talks, and even a month of family therapy for me to truly trust my family again and to believe Mum’s claim that she was sorry and was capable of being a better person. During our sessions, there was a time there bringing up old wounds, talking about my younger years, leaving university, and coming home after Dad died, that I thought we would never come to an understanding.

I kept Meadow away from Mum during those first months, she and I got back to our normal straight away, and there had been no way in hell I was going to jeopardise our love ever again. I worried that the stress would set Meadow back into not being about to eat, so I did what any man would do and put my foot down. Of course, my beautiful pain in the arse had a lot to say about that.

Meadow and Trish kidnapped my mum and sisters for a whole weekend for the miracle to happen. Mum came back a new woman. She still sniffed from time to time, and Kayla still liked to boss me around at the office, but whatever happened during those two days gave me a more loving, affectionate and less demanding mother. I wasn’t complaining, as my mum and I were well on the way to a better relationship. She had even taken to working one day a week at Meadow and Spring’s shop, suddenly developing a liking for antiques and scuffed up furniture. I’m not saying it was all sunshine and rainbows, and Meadow’s mum had a way of grating on my mother’s nerves, but mostly it was a harmonious family unit.

Rubbing the spot where the baby kicked, I smiled against Meadow’s soft skin. I loved my time