Thankful For Him: An Instalove Possessive Holiday Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Thankful for Him

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  THANKFUL FOR HIM

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 214

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  THANKFUL FOR HIM

  ZAK

  After twenty years in the African financial wilderness, I’m coming home.

  My life long friend Mark insists I spend Thanksgiving with him at his lake house, the perfect way to settle back into positive US traditions.

  A self-made man, I can more than afford to kick back for good maybe, who knows?

  But with just money and success under my belt, I still ache for something more.

  Someone more.

  What’s the good of ten lifetimes worth of money with nobody to share it with?

  But it all clicks into place when Misty collects me from the airport.

  Mark’s only daughter.

  And from that moment on, my only obsession.

  My only everything.

  She’s the one thing to make this life complete.

  I’m just not so sure Mark is gonna be as thrilled as we are about it.

  MISTY

  His picture was always on the piano. Dad’s best friend.

  He’s overseas, working, but my Dad always talks about him as if he’s in the next room.

  God, I wish he was.

  His broad shoulders and dark eyes follow me each time I pass his photograph.

  Until one day when I’m home on spring break, all those feelings make sense.

  I steal his photo, I keep it.

  Secret and safe.

  Waiting for the day he comes back, comes home to claim me as his own.

  Come Thanksgiving and Dad announces that Zak is coming home, for good.

  Coming to the lake house for Thanksgiving with us.

  And I’m already giving thanks for what I know should follow.

  *Thankful for Him is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Misty

  “I just don’t understand how a picture could go missing like that,” my Dad exclaims.

  “I think it’s only fair his picture is on display if he’s coming home. Coming all this way, especially for Thanksgiving!” he continues as I hide the smile playing on my lips with my hand.

  Dad’s rummaging through boxes and drawers, muttering under his breath he knew exactly where it was when we moved last.

  But I know.

  I know exactly where Zak’s photograph is.

  It’s under my mattress.

  “Maybe it’s already up at the lake house?” I venture, hoping to put Dad off the scent for a bit.

  “Are you sure you don’t know where it is?” Dad asks, knowing how terrible a liar I am, and I feel myself blush as I look at my feet shaking my head.

  It’s silly I know. Dad’s best friend moved overseas years ago, a finance job.

  It was a positive step for him, making his way in the world and my Dad encouraged him to go all the way to South Africa to live his lifelong dream of being a big shot finance broker.

  Me? I was a little girl back then, didn’t think much of it. Dad has just a few friends, and none like Zak, admittedly.

  As I got older, especially when I came home for spring break during my last year of college, Zak’s photograph took on a whole new meaning.

  His thick shoulders, dark hair, and sultry eyes started to follow me every time I passed it on the piano until the day I took it.

  I stole it.

  I covet it still as if it’s a piece of the man himself.

  I wish it was, I’ve held it so tight in both my hands often enough.

  The man I know I have a total and unreasonable crush on.

  Pure fantasy.

  As if he would ever go for a younger, thicker girl like me.

  He could have any girl or woman he wants.

  Maybe he already has?

  I block the thought from my mind. Those eyes, their light tells me he hasn’t found what he wants yet, because he wants me.

  The man of my dreams, my Dad’s best friend, and a successful international financier, Zak Ramon.

  Sigh.

  I never knew what attraction was, never even thought about myself in that way until I was old enough, and until I made the direct association with the man himself and my newfound desires.

  Now, he’s coming home.

  After a decade in the financial wilderness, Zak’s coming home.

  Coming home to me, I tell myself. But I know from experience that I’ll melt like butter in his company, even a quick hi and bye on the phone over the years always leaves me in a state.

  Whatever the real reason, Zak’s coming home. And my Dad’s spent weeks preparing for our thanksgiving dinner he insists will be his true homecoming.

  Bringing him home to the States to celebrate everything he should be thankful for. To give thanks for having him as such a true friend.

  I can’t wait.

  So much so, I’ve volunteered to pick him up from the airport at four A.M.

  Dad’s made sure the lake house is spick and span, even in November which is a time of year we rarely go up there. And with the weather this year, I was sure he’d call it off at one point.

  “Well,” Dad finally sighs with disappointment. “We’ll have the man himself to look at all week, don’t suppose his picture matters too much,” he says, trailing off before he remembers something.

  “Oh, and I think I’ll go pick Zak up from the airport too, sweetie. It’s too wet on the roads. I don’t want you out there on your own at-”

  I feel a weight on my chest, which explodes as I shout at my Dad. “No! I’m going to pick Zak up. We agreed on that, he’s expecting me!”

  Dad is taken aback and raises a brow with an
‘is he now?’ look before frowning. “Plus, you have so much to do, with the turkey and all,” I remind him as I work to try and calm myself down.

  “I’m not a little girl anymore Dad,” I add, and he holds his hands up in mock resignation before hugging me.

  “Alright, sweetie, you win. But if it gets too wet on the roads I want you to pull over and call me, alright?”

  “I will,” I chime, imagining just how wet I’d be with Zak Ramon all to myself out in the woods on a winding, mud-soaked road.

  I shiver at the thought, almost squealing with excitement. I’ve never felt like this about anything or anyone in my whole life.

  If my Dad knew though, I know what he’d be telling me.

  Just don’t set yourself up for disappointment, Misty. Zak’s a friend and he likes you - a lot, but just not like that…

  I have to pretend though. I have to tell myself there’s always a chance. Thing is, nobody’s ever liked me like that. And if things don’t change soon in that department, I’ll end up going mad I know it.

  “Speaking of the roads, Dad, shouldn’t you get going if you want to get to the market before heading up?” I ask, noticing the time.

  “Shoot! Honey, you’re right. I’ll call you when I get to the lake house then. And please drive carefully, okay,” he pleads and I peck his cheek, already counting the seconds as I look at the clock until it’s just me and Zak.

  For a few hours anyway.

  I see Dad off and try to relax while also packing up the last of everything I know Dad’s left behind into the SUV. This dinner, the whole week, it all means so much to Dad.

  But I’m excited for another reason.

  It gets dark early and despite trying to get some sleep after setting my alarm so I don’t miss Zak’s arrival, I find myself holding him again with both hands as I stare into his eyes.

  His picture anyway.

  Tracing a finger across his powerful jaw, wondering what it would feel like to have him so close to me in real life, I’m sure I won’t sleep a wink.

  I bolt upright with a start.

  Crap!

  I’ve slept through two alarms already and now I’m late.

  I had a whole get ready for Zak routine, a special outfit even but all that’s gone to hell if I want to make it to the airport in time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Zak

  Who takes a connecting flight to arrive at four a.m.?

  Zak Ramon when he’s so jet lagged it’s a relief to have something else to do to stay awake except stare at four walls, that’s who.

  Plus, I’d fly all night to see Mark Rivers again. His invitation was more of an order to come spend a week with him and his daughter, Misty at his lake house as soon as I got back stateside.

  I couldn’t refuse, a perfect chance to get back home to homely traditions, American style.

  No more computer screens, no more conference calls. I’ve made it and now I’m coming home, having taken a big enough chunk of the world’s financial pie to last me several lifetimes over.

  But what now? Enjoy the rest of my days alone with a mountain of money?

  I push that thought to the back of my mind. A week with no stress, no drama, and plenty of good food and friends is what I’m looking forward to most.

  No pressure. No stress.

  Misty Rivers.

  Her name flashes through my mind but only for a second. I’d texted Mark to let him know I was definitely arriving and he’d passed on his daughter’s details who said she’d come pick me up herself.

  It’s a long drive from the city airport to their lake house, but she’s all grown up now.

  How time flies.

  The last time I saw her in person she would have been big enough to bounce on my knee, now she’s driving a car in the wee hours in what I hear is rotten weather to come get her old man’s oldest friend.

  I feel nostalgia, and regret that I have no one of my own. No family, nobody to squeeze tight when I get off the plane.

  No bed to warm up later on.

  Another memory flashes across my mind, Misty’s graduation photo Mark emailed me. It was the proudest moment of his life, he’d said.

  But I was shocked where my mind went, seeing his little girl all grown up.

  I’d put it down to work pressure, getting old, or just plain living like a hermit the past twenty years.

  I’ll be forty this year, Misty must be… half that.

  I shiver as I try hard to replace her image in my mind, glancing at my Rolex and estimate the time left before I can set foot on US soil again.

  Shuddering a breath I try and push Misty’s thick curves and heavy chest down, but something hard is pushing it all the way back up.

  I never knew I had a ‘type’, and for the first time in a long time, I find my thinking about her has an unexpected response from my groin, giving me an aching hard on at thirty thousand feet.

  I smile to myself, sure it’s just the cabin pressure.

  There’s no way a twenty-two year old girl is gonna wanna jump these old bones, even though I do look after myself.

  The thought plays happily in my mind as I manage to doze off until the jolt of the plane touching down wakes me suddenly.

  Maybe I dreamt the whole thing?

  My incessant hardness tells me I didn’t.

  I suddenly feel like I’m getting closer to something, to something that’s going to make the past twenty years of my life make perfect sense.

  Still grinning, and covering myself with my carry on, I happily wait through the international arrivals process, wondering what has me so dream-happy all of a sudden.

  Stepping out into the arena-sized arrivals area after about an hour, I don’t have a sea of people waiting.

  A janitor, some tired grouchy looking parents. That’s it.

  I check my watch again, we’re bang on time.

  No Misty.

  I take a moment to register my true feelings. I actually feel a stab of hurt, like I really hoped she’d-

  There she is.

  I can hear her huffing it in heels long before I catch the welcome sight of her chest bouncing, making my dick pulse back to life with each of her short steps.

  Whatever I was telling myself about my best friend’s daughter being too young for me flies out the window.

  There is such a thing as love at first sight.

  I’d have laughed if anyone told me, but when I see her, it’s all I can feel.

  Without even speaking to her yet, without even knowing her innermost thoughts, I know she’s the one.

  She’s the real reason I came home.

  To make our home together, someday soon.

  Her blond bangs dance in the glaring fluorescent light, her oval face flushed with a mix of determination and hesitancy while her clear blue eyes flash a message of hope and apology.

  She’s wearing gray track pants, a sweater, and two inch heels.

  I instantly know she’s late, and that she wanted to have a special outfit on. Something she’d planned in advance maybe.

  For me?

  Nah, couldn’t be.

  I stand watching her, astonished. Arrested by her youth, her beauty, but most of all those curves that seem to have my name on them. Begging for me to grip her and hold her close.

  But by the time she’s close enough, it’s me who has his tongue tied. I don’t know which way to look.

  Her heaving chest, breathless in front of me, shifting from one foot to the other as she explains how she’s running late.

  All I can see is her eyes on mine, feeling each pulse of her pounding heart matched inside my own chest.

  For the first time in my life, I’m actually speechless. Zak Ramon has nothing to say.

  I just stare, grinning like a maniac as I scan her curves, my dick about to shatter under my eight hundred dollar pants as I press my carry on harder against it, wishing it was her.

  Wanting her.

  Needing her suddenly, without even having spoken a w
ord.

  “Zak!” she gushes. “I’m late… Sorry!” she adds looking down as if I’d mind.

  I want to hold her, hug her. My whole instinct is to cover her up and protect her.

  But I’m standing here, hard as a rock, grinning like a madman still.

  “Can I take your bag?” she asks, and I grip it tighter, fearing being exposed in front of her.

  “No!” I blurt out, finally, thrusting out my hand instead. Business as usual.

  “I’m Zak, your Dad’s friend,” I announce, feeling myself redden, kicking myself for stating the obvious.

  “Misty,” she chimes formally, not missing a beat.

  And as her hand slips into mine, it’s like an electrical charge explodes.

  We both instantly understand a ton of things without even having to say another word.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Misty

  His photo doesn’t do him any justice, and it’s probably fifteen years old.

  True to form, I feel myself melting, getting wetter and more anxious with each staggering step as I get closer to the gate, knowing I’m late.

  Oh, why did I wear heels and sweats?

  The blur that’s the few people I pass pay me no notice. Everyone looks tired, numb. It’s after four in the morning and it’s freezing out.

  But my whole body and mind are burning for Zak before I even spot him, the fear he might have got a cab already and left driving each foot in front of the other.

  Before I know it, I’m standing in front of him, his huge frame like a wedge against the burning glow of overhead lights in the wide space of the airport.

  He’s smiling, grimacing almost. And holding a bag over his front like his life depends on it.

  We know each other, but we don’t know each other at all.

  His hand is in mine in a moment, and it all makes sense.

  I never want to let go, I only want him to draw me closer, to turn our handshake into something else.

  I could be dreaming still, half asleep, and dazed from being so late so early in the morning, but something else tells me that Zak is just as glad to see me as I am him.

  “I-I slept in, running late,” I stammer, noticing his hand still has mine, making it feel tiny but warm as he shows no sign of letting go.