Come What May: A Standalone Age Gap Romance

by LK Farlow

  “Yes, I do.”

  I squirm in his grasp, but he moves steadily ahead, my pleas falling on deaf ears.

  He carries me over the threshold of our room—suite actually—stopping only to secure the door before making determined strides to the bed.

  Once I’m on my own two feet, he spins me, so my back is to him. He skims his long fingers over my exposed back before nimbly working free the closure.

  I love a man with a purpose. And right now, that purpose is getting this dress off as quickly as possible.

  I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I can’t help the little flutters of anticipation running through me. Mateo takes his time, helping me onto the bed before worshiping every inch of skin he reveals until I’m wearing nothing but the special pale blue lingerie I purchased specifically for tonight.

  “Dios mio,” he groans, slowly running his hands up my body. “You are a vision.” He leans down to place a gentle kiss on my soft swell of my belly. “And all mine.”

  I try to sit up, needing to even the clothing score, but he refuses. Instead, I’m gifted with my own private strip show. I’m practically drooling as his suit joins my dress on the floor.

  This man is a god. My god.

  “Is it crazy that I’m nervous?” I ask in a quiet voice.

  “Not at all.” He hovers above me, careful not to put too much pressure on my stomach. “But this is only the beginning.”

  Whatever nerves I had disappear in a cloud of lust as he blazes a trail of kisses down my neck, paying special attention to my overly sensitive breasts. I moan under his touch, craving the friction as he rolls his hips, sending a jolt of need directly to my core.

  “Tonight, it’s only us.” He trails his lips even lower, running his hand reverently over my bump. “I can’t tell you how much I love seeing you grow with our child.”

  “Our son,” I croak out, hoping this little plan of mine doesn’t blow up in my face.

  I’ve been sitting on this information for a few days now, and not telling him was the absolute worst form of torture.

  I agonized over the perfect gift to give my him on our wedding night. Then it dawned on me. I could easily take a blood test to find out the sex of our child.

  Judging from his glassy eyes and wobbly smile, it was the perfect gift.

  “Un hijo—a son?” His eyes drop to my stomach again. “You are sure?”

  I beam brightly at him as he caresses the space below my naval. “One hundred percent.”

  Without warning, he straightens his posture and captures my lips with his. This kiss is one fueled by equal parts joy and desire. Mateo makes quick work of removing the remaining lingerie before lining himself up at my entrance.

  “I love you, my wife.” He enters me slowly.

  “I love you too,” I cry, as he pulls nearly all the way out of me before slamming back into me in a way that has my back arching while I beg for more.

  Mateo plays my body with expertise, knowing exactly where to touch, where to kiss, what spots to hit until I’m practically seeing stars and begging for release.

  “Please, Mateo, fuck.” He reaches between us to finger my clit, rubbing it in perfect time with his powerful thrusts.

  When the first wave hits, I claw at his sweat-slicked back, crying out his name as the orgasm rips through my body.

  He reaches down and hikes my right leg over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit a spot deep within me, which only intensifies the tremors still running through me.

  “Mariposita,” he howls, sounding feral with need. His rhythm falters, and a few unsteady thrusts later, he stills over me, his warm release filling me.

  He releases my leg and presses his forehead to mine. He drags precious air into his lungs as our heartbeats slow to a normal level.

  “That was…” I can’t even finish my sentence because there are no words to describe what we just shared.

  “Perfect.” Mateo brushes my hair away, giving him an unobstructed view of the smile permanently etched on my face. “It was perfect.”

  Bonus Scene!

  Want A Little More Seraphine And Mateo?

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  Coming Soon

  Without a Doubt is coming early 2021. Add it to your TBR today.

  RYKER

  Hooking up with your boss’s little sister is never a good idea. But Silvi Reyes is a fun-sized package of tan skin and lush curves I’m helpless to resist.

  She was supposed to be a one-and-done kind of thing, but after a night of hearing her sweet voice cry out my name, I’m already plotting how to get her back in my bed.

  I figure I can work her out of my system and move on, except somewhere between orgasms six and ten, the unthinkable happens—I catch feelings.

  If I were a better man, I’d cut ties and walk away before she gets hurt, but doing the right thing has never really been my forté.

  SILVI

  After the implosion of my last relationship, I decided to prioritize work over play. My days and nights are spent inside my studio painting instead of out with friends.

  Which is why it’s so surprising when one flirtatious wink from Ryker St. James is all it takes for me to end up between his sheets.

  The next morning, I swear it will never happen again.

  Ryker swears it will.

  And while I’m not saying I was wrong…he was definitely right.

  What is it about this sexy bad boy that has me casting all my inhibitions aside?

  Without a doubt, he’s going to break my heart, but something tells me he just might be worth the pain.

  Other Titles By Lk Farlow

  *All can be read as standalones and are available through Kindle Unlimited.

  Coming Up Roses

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  An Uphill Battle

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  Weather the Storm

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  Best Laid Plans

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  Best of Intentions

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  Best of Me

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  Rebel Heart

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  Rebel Soul

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  Rebel Desire

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  Sneak Peek Of Coming Up Roses

  “No, no, no. This isn’t . . .” I glance down at the test, at the two glaring pink lines. The results haven't changed—it's still positive. I slump back against the bathroom wall and slide to the floor. How did this happen? This wasn’t supposed to happen—at least, not for a few more years.

  We were careful. Except New Year’s Eve, my brain practically shouts at me as I sob, clutching the little stick that just changed my entire life.

  I've never missed my Grams more than I do right now. She'd know what to do, what to say.

  Everything I have, everything I am can be attributed to her—Marjorie Rose McGraw was the strongest damn woman I’ve ever been graced with the pleasure of knowing. She gave birth to my mama right in the middle of Hurricane Karin and swore it cast a mark on the child, said someone brought about amid all that destruction was bound to be a bad egg. Even though Grams tried her damnedest to keep my mama on the straight and narrow, she always strayed. Some people just have hearts wired for trouble, Myla Rose—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard my Grams say that phrase throughout my life.

  Mama was young when she had me, only nineteen. I never knew my daddy, and I doubt she really knew him either. Mama was all about fun, always flying by the seat of her pants. While she was never abusive, she wasn’t nurturing either. Someone or something always came before me. I was seven when my mama decided she didn’t want me anymore. I remember it like it was yesterday.

  “Come on, Myla Rose, grab your shit and get in the car. Mama has to go,” she urged, directing me toward the car with a little push to my back. I stumbled
a little, my untied shoelace sealing my fate—I still hadn’t learned how to tie them. Down I went, right to my knees, scraping them on the driveway. It stung, but her words stung worse. “Myla Rose! Get up off the ground, girl, and get in the damn car. How many damn times do I need to repeat myself?” She teetered in her high heels, drunk. She was always drunk. I pulled myself up off the ground, dusted off my knees, and climbed into the back seat. She dropped me off at Grams’ and never looked back.

  Thankfully, Grams welcomed me with open arms and a smile on her face. Until the day she left this earth, she was my rock. My foundation.

  Now, here I am, just a year older than Mama was when she had me, and pregnant. Mirror, mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all.

  “Five minutes, Myla Rose. You can cry for five minutes,” I tell myself, “then you gotta get up, girl. Cryin’ isn’t gonna change nothin’.” I hear Grams' voice in my mind, echoing the words I spoke aloud to myself. That’s exactly what she’d have said if she were here, and it’s damn sure what I need to hear.

  With a newfound resolve, I force myself from the bathroom floor and head into my bedroom. I crawl into my bed, blindly fumbling around for my phone so that I can call AzzyJo. If I can’t have my Grams, she’s the next best thing. Azalea Josephine Barnes—AzzyJo for short—is my best friend and my biggest supporter. We’ve been inseparable since the third grade when we decided to sit together at lunch because we both had flower names. It was fate, y’all. That girl . . . she just gets me.

  She answers on the first ring, all but singing into the phone.

  “Good mornin’, Myla Rose.”

  “A–Azalea.” My voice trembles with fear and uncertainty.

  “Are you okay? No, don’t answer that. I’m on my way, sweet girl.” She hangs up before I can even respond.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here. Could’ve been just minutes—or maybe hours—when I hear my front door unlatching.

  “Myla, I’m here,” Azalea calls out.

  “In my room,” I call back, my voice hoarse from crying. I hear her shuffle into the room, and I can only imagine how pathetic I look with my tear-stained cheeks and matted auburn hair curled up in a ball on my bed. Azalea, though, doesn’t even blink at the sight before her. She just kicks off her shoes and snuggles in behind me, offering silent comfort.

  Finally, she breaks the silence. “Myla Rose, you wanna tell me what’s got you in such a tizzy?” I don’t even bother to respond. I just point to the damning little stick. “Oh, sweet girl, it’ll be okay. Have you talked to Taylor?”

  I shake my head. “No. Not yet. You’re the first person I thought to call.”

  “Okay, it’s okay. Just call him. Tell him you want to meet and talk. He’s—”

  “AzzyJo, I don’t even know if he wants kids. We’ve never talked about the future! Hell, I can hardly get him to commit to a date these days.” I can feel myself starting to panic.

  “I know y’all’s relationship is still new, but you've known him forever. Plus, what’s done is done. He’ll either man up and help you raise this baby or he won’t, simple as that. One thing I know for sure—you’ll be right as rain either way.”

  Her words are like a balm, and she’s right—I can’t change the past. It is what it is. Maybe he’ll be a good dad. Maybe he’ll love this baby. Only one way to find out.

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  Acknowledgments

  Every single book, I worry I’ll forget to thank someone important. It is legit one of my biggest fears, so much so it keeps me up at night.

  Because the thing is, writing a book is a lot like raising a child—it takes a village. Thank God, my village is full of the best and brightest. My village is brimming with people I’m simply lucky to know.

  So many amazing, kind souls who have gone out of their way to help me, to lend an ear, or a kind word on a down day.

  Honestly, there are too many to list.

  So, I’ll leave it at this:

  THANK YOU. YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT…YOU.

  FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART, THANK YOU.

  Also, major thanks to Tania, Viridiana, and Anna for their endless patience helping me with Spanish translations. You ladies are the real MVP’s!

  I also need to thank my team—Kiezha, Ellie, and Julie, y’all are priceless and I couldn’t do this without y’all.

  But maybe the most important group I need to thank is the book lovers! Be you a reader or a blogger, you are the reason I am able to do this. Your support means more to me than I’ll ever be able to articulate. I am thankful for each and every one of you.

  And last but not least, my family. Y’all are my everything and I’m incredibly grateful for the glorious chaos y’all bring. Special shoutout to Baby K—this book almost didn’t happen thanks to your special brand of clinginess.

  Let’s Connect

  Known by Kate to most, LK Farlow is an Amazon Top 40 bestselling author of small-town romances.

  She has a heart built for happily ever after, which is lucky since she found hers at the young age of nineteen. Now, at thirty, she is the wife to one hunky man and the mother to four human babies and one lizard.

  Kate often jokes that her life is all out chaos on most days, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  Stay in the know with all things LK by subscribing to her newsletter: http://bit.ly/lkfnewsletter

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