Page 21 of Accidental Husband

In high school, guys were always talking about her "exotic beauty." Which is fucking stupid. Her biological father was from Colombia—her mom had an affair with a senior VP at her company.

Jules doesn't know his name. She doesn't know anything about him except his ethnicity.

It bothers her. It always has.

I hate my dad. He's the scum of the Earth. But I'm glad I know he's the scum of the Earth. I can't imagine what it would be like going through life, not knowing the person who provided half my DNA.

Especially when said person was a married man who wanted nothing to do with his knocked up mistress.

Men really are shit. I don't know why women put up with us.

It's hard for her, not knowing anything about half her heritage. It's never mattered to me. It's never affected us, not beyond that phase in high school where she learned to make arepas. Or the idiotic guys who approached her to tell her how exotic she looked or ask "where are you from, no not Los Angeles, where are you really from?"

I just…

I really fucking hate those guys.

I hate everyone who hurts her. Even when it's a minor offense.

Still, I have to admit, her unique set of features is gorgeous.

The long dark hair she inherited from her father—

It's hot as hell. That's all that matters for our purposes.

It would look fucking fantastic between my fingers.

I don't care.

I don't think about her like that.

Ever.

Fuck, she really does have nice tits.

I bet they're responsive too.

She probably purrs like a pussycat when a guy toys with her nipples.

No. She's only been with Jackson. And there's no fucking way he knows his way around her body.

"Griff?" A yawn interrupts my name. "Are you just going to stand there?" She steps into her messy bedroom. Motions to her mom's room.Get in here before she notices us.

"She'd care less if you were dressed."

"Am I naked?"

Fuck, now that's in my head. Those dark curls fall to her shoulders. They frame her face perfectly. Stop right at her shoulders. Do nothing to cover her tits.

If she was naked—

What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm not thinking about my best friend naked. No matter how badly I want her to come.

I need to get her in a dress and heels and a little red lipstick.

Some guys don't appreciate a woman in an Angels t-shirt and boxers.

Fuck, she's swimming in my t-shirt. It's adorable. Even better 'cause she hates the Angels.