Wrecking Ball by P. Dangelico
Cam DeSantis’ life is a mess.
How else would you describe losing your husband, your job, and your money all at once?
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
So when salvation comes in the form of one intolerable jerk, who just happens to be the starting quarterback for the vaunted New York Titans, she has no choice but to accept his offer as a live-in nanny slash teacher for his eight year old nephew.
Now all she has to do is find a way to ignore him for the next three months.
Which is harder said than done.
Calvin Shaw has zero interest in women.
Wait, wait––let me rephrase that. He loves women, he just doesn’t want anything to do with ‘um.
What he needs to do is focus on winning another Super Bowl before he retires.
Problem is, the woman living in his house is a major distraction.
And he doesn’t know what’s worse, that he promised to be civil, or that he’s attracted to her.
Excerpt Wrecking Ball by P. Dangelico
Calvin’s Epilogue…New Year’s Resolutions
I walk out of the bathroom and stop short. My stomach drops and my brain shuts down as if I’ve been hit upside the head with a brick.
Two and a half years since the day we met and every time I see her it’s like the first time.
Wearing only a black lace bra and panties, my wife stands in front of the vanity in our bedroom finger combing her long brown hair. Back arched, chest out, she’s fucking beautiful. The only sight more beautiful was seeing her pregnant with our son.
She gives me a quick glance, gaze working up and down my body.
“Are you going to put some clothes on? Our guests will be here in an hour.”
Whatever she said barely register as I take in the view. The soft, round curve of her ass, the swell of her breasts, each one of the freckles across her nose I’ve kissed.
When I don’t answer, my wife stops fixing her hair and gives me her full attention. Her dark brows rise in question and her full lips curve into a soft smile. “Seriously, what’s it going to take?” Then she smirks and shakes her head, knowing I’m a lost cause. “I swear you were a nudist in a past life.”
“That’s my line,” I remind her. “And I’m a nudist in this life.”
December 31st, my second wedding anniversary. Another year gone. This one even better than the last.
It seems like yesterday that those big brown eyes crashed into my life, jump-started my heart, and brought me back to life. Most of the time I wonder how I ever lived without her, my little wrecking ball, who taught me how to love and be loved. Taught me that surrender doesn’t mean defeat, and giving up your pride makes you stronger.
Arms crossed, I lean against our bathroom doorway while she goes back to messing with her hair. Checking her work in the mirror, she frowns.
“Leave it down.”
“Okay, caveman,” she says with a smirk.
“Leave it down,” I practically beg. This is what this woman’s done to me, turned me into a goddamn poodle begging for scraps. Even worse, I’m lovin’ every minute of it.
The urge to touch her is so strong I can’t wait another second. Making my way over, I stand behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and kiss all the way down her neck. Her hands come down and grip my wrists when I rub my fingers over her tight nipples. Sighing, she leans back into me and tilts her head to give me room.
“You’re not going to distract me with your sexy shenanigans. The baby will pull half the hair out of my head if I don’t put it up.”
As soon as her voice goes breathless, I know I’m getting what I want. In all honesty I don’t give a rat’s ass what she does with her hair as long as I get to touch her, hold her––make love to her. The hunger to be shoved deep inside of her is so relentless I don’t know how the hell I ever went without.
Turning, she sits on the bathroom countertop and I step between her legs. My hands full of the round cheeks of her perfect ass, I pull her against my painfully hard dick and kiss her. A kiss that’s meant to say all the things I feel in every fiber of my being.
I love you
I need you
I worship you
You are every breath I take and every beat of my heart.
Pulling back, Camilla gives me a sly smile. “How about some resolutions?” Her fingers run through my hair and every muscle in my body responds, parts of me slack with a sense of relief, other parts hard enough to punch through sheetrock. “I’ll start for you––I, Calvin Reginald Shaw, do solemnly resolve to not walk around naked most of the time.”
At my slow headshake, she frowns. “I solemnly resolve to act less like a caveman?” That one gets a negative, too. “How about…mmm, I resolve to agree with all my wife’s suggestions?”
At her hopeful look, I chuckle. I’m not a man of many words but these should do.
“I, Calvin Shaw, do solemnly resolve to love and worship Mrs. Shaw forever––and maybe consider getting some new underwear so Mrs. Shaw can stop ridin’ me about it.”
“Well––” Cam wraps her arms tightly around my neck, pulling me closer. “It’s a start. Maybe by our tenth anniversary I’ll get a pledge from you to wear pants in the house.”
“No harm in dreaming, baby,” I whisper against her lips. “Happy anniversary.” Because no man has ever been happier. I open my hand and hold up the ring I never got the chance to give her, seeing how we did things backwards.
Her eyes get so big it makes me laugh.
“What the…” her hands cover her mouth as she stares at it.
“The manager at Tiffany said you can trade it for the one you want.”
Her eyes, wet and full of love and wonder, come up to meet mine. “Did you pick it out?” She slips the round stone on her finger.
As flawless as it is, it’s nothing compared to her, to what she’s given me––a sense of peace I’ve never felt before until she loved me.
All the things I’ve managed to accomplish in my life and I’d trade them all for her. That’s what she means to me. And given the chance, I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I’d endure all those years of feeling alone with the weight of the world sitting on my shoulders, with no one to turn to when I thought I was gonna break to get me here––with her.
I nod and her eyes flood, tears spill down her cheeks. “It’s perfect. You didn’t have to, but I love it.”
“Now what were you saying about wantin’ to make love to me before everyone gets here?”
“That’s not what I said,” she says, giggling against my mouth.
“Pretty sure you said it with your eyes.”
Wrapping her legs around my waist, she reaches down and strokes me and I just about come apart in her hand.
“Better hurry, Reg.”
I push her panties aside and slide home, where I belong, where I feel whole. “Can’t guarantee I won’t get you good and pregnant,” I tell her between devouring her sweet mouth and kissing down her neck.
“That’s impossible, Boo. Even with your super sperm.”
The inflection in her voice gets my attention. I pull back to scan her face and find her grinning.
“We’re pregnant,” she murmurs, watching closely for my reaction.
My chest feels tight, like my heart’s about to explode––that’s my reaction. A flash of unease crosses her face but I’m so bent out of shape I can’t utter a fucking word. “Are you happy?”
“Baby––”I force out. Cupping her face, I take a deep breath before I completely lose my shit. “I didn’t think I could get any happier, but you just proved me wrong again. Best fucking anniversary present ever.”
There isn’t much talking after that. I get busy making love to wife, my best friend, my better half. With my body, I tell her what I can’t put into words––and she returns the favor.