The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5) (14 page)

She inhales deeply and exhales slowly just as a car behind me honks the horn. I sit staring, taken aback by all that she had to say. She turns her head and points out the windshield before she speaks again. “The light’s green. You better go. Also, I don’t know if that was two minutes, but I’m done now.”

I force my attention in front of me as I lift my foot off the break and surge forward into traffic. Her words play on repeat in my head over and over—not all of them because,
damn,
the woman can talk—but there are a few choice words that I doubt I’ll be forgetting any time soon.
Asshole. Brilliant. Asshole. Bitch. Love. Asshole. Married. Mentor. Friends. Asshole.

I have no idea how many times she called me an asshole. I’ve certainly been called worse. What has me confounded is her idea that she and I might actually be able to work together as…
friends
. I shake the thought away as I try and unpack the rest of what she said. She’s right. I am brilliant. She’s amazing as well. The two of us together would make a remarkable team within Eddalyn’s Interior. To disregard the potential that lies within her, to throw it away with an infatuation that will lead absolutely nowhere, to
step out of bounds,
it would be more than irresponsible—it would be stupid.

I’m a lot of things, but I am no fool.

“Tomorrow, then,” I say, breaking the silence between us. “We’ll start the new project tomorrow.”

When I unlock the door and step inside, I’m overwhelmed with the incredible smells coming from the kitchen. I grin, setting my things down as I shut out the cold and lock us in. I shrug my way out of my coat and drape it over the armchair in the living room as I sneak my way towards Roman. He’s humming as he stands busy at the stove, so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice when I come up behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist and he jumps before he peeks at me from over his shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” he says in greeting, resting one of his hands over mine.

“Hey. What was that you were humming?”

He shrugs as I press my cheek against his back. “Nothing, really. I haven’t written anything in a while and I was just seeing if I could dream something up.”

“Mmmm,” I hum, giving him a squeeze. “I like it when you play for me.”

He chuckles softly. “I know you do. Come ‘ere,” he insists, lifting up his arm, my signal to duck under and wrap myself around his side. He hugs my shoulders and I smile up at him before he presses a kiss against my lips. “Maybe I’ll pull my guitar out a little later. You hungry?”

“Starving! It smells
so
good in here. What are you making?”

“Chicken marsala. It’s almost done. As soon as the asparagus comes out of the oven, we can eat.”

I reach up my hand and cup it around his cheek. He looks at me, an unspoken question in his eyes. “Thank you,” I murmur.

“For what, babe?”

“For taking the night off to be with me. I know your semester just started and you’ve got a lot going on.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

I push myself up onto my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his mouth before I begin to pull away. He tightens his grip around me and I smirk at him. “Can I go to our bedroom for a second?” I ask teasingly.

“Nope.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No?”

“
Nope.
”

I laugh, trying again to pull away from him, but he refuses to let me go. “Rome, I want to get out of these tights. They’re killing me.”

“Oh. Well, we can’t have that.”

“Yes. I’m glad we agr—”

I gasp and then giggle as he turns away from the stove and then reaches his hands up my skirt until they are around my hips. He grabs hold of the top of my tights and then slides them slowly over my legs, sinking down until he is squatting in front of me. I brace myself against his shoulders as he takes off one of my shoes, freeing my foot of the now uncomfortable fabric of my tights; he then repeats the act for my other foot before he stands, shoving the waistband into his back pocket. I shake my head at him, looking at my stockings as they hang down the back of his leg.

“I’m not ready for you to head back there yet.”

“Oh? I have a surprise?”

“Maybe.”

“
Baby
,” I whine, propping my hip against the counter. “You said no gifts. I thought we were on a
budget
.” I frown, thinking of all the things I had to talk myself out of buying him for the occasion.

“I did. And we are. It’s not a gift—not exactly. Just—just don’t go back there. How about you set the table?”

I playfully narrow my eyes at him before I snag my tights from his pocket and smack my hand against his ass. He chuckles and I take my things to the living room, discarding them before I wash my hands and begin setting the table.

It’s only a few more minutes before the asparagus is done and dinner is served. Sitting together at the table while we eat doesn’t feel extraordinarily special, but that’s what I love about it. When Roman is in school, his days are long and his nights are spent either teaching yoga or doing homework. What he said earlier is true—he’s never too busy for me—but when he’s in work mode, it’s easy for me to slip back into work mode, too. We spend many a night eating dinner across from each other in the office that we share. Sometimes, it isn’t until we’re cuddled together in bed that we get to tell each other about our days.

So this—a normal dinner at the table with my husband—it’s exactly how I envisioned our romantic evening in to celebrate Valentine’s Day. We take our time, eating slowly as we chat and laugh, and when I’m finally finished, I’m stuffed. I clear the table, fully prepared to start on the dishes, but Roman stops me.

“Leave them,” her murmurs, his lips pressed against the top of my head. “We’ll worry about them later.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, following his lead as he takes my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen.

“Positive.” He stops when we reach our bedroom door and then tells me to close my eyes. “I just need a minute.”

“What are you up to?” I ask with a grin.

“You’ll see in a minute.” He presses a quick kiss against my lips and then leaves me alone in the hallway. I wait for longer than a minute, but no more than five, and then I feel his lips on mine again. “You can open your eyes, now.”

When I do, I look straight up into his brown irises. He winks at me and then holds out his elbow. I slip my hand around the crook of his arm and follow him into our bedroom. Only the bedside lamps are on, but its more than enough light to see the rose petals he’s sprinkled across the bed and the bouquet that sits atop my nightstand.

“Roman,” I sigh, stopping to admire the sight.

“Come on. We’re going to hang out in here for a while first.”

He escorts me to the bathroom and I gasp, my jaw falling open as my eyes dance around the room. There are white pillar candles
everywhere
—across the counter, lined up in front of the shower door, scattered around the edge of the tub—the tub that’s filled with steaming water and floating rose pedals. It’s beautiful and impossibly romantic and I love it so much.

I throw my arms around Roman’s neck, pulling him down so that I can reach his mouth. His lips curl into a smile against mine before he kisses me in return. His fingers find the zipper of my skirt just as my tongue seeks entrance into his mouth.

“Babe,” he whispers, his hands moving away from my fallen skirt and under my sweater. I sigh into his mouth when he palms my breasts and gives me a squeeze. “If we don’t slow down, we’ll never make it into the tub.”

I giggle, kissing him once more before I pull away. “Fine,” I concede, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. “Hey,” I coo, helping him out of his jeans. “Can I be Pretty Woman tonight?”

He laughs, cupping his hands around my face. “You’re my pretty woman every night, Mrs. Holloway,” he tells me, resting his forehead against mine. “But, yes—you can sit in the back tonight.”

“Yes!”I reply with a grin. I pull away from him and search for a hair tie. Once my hair is piled on top of my head into a knot, I finish taking my clothes off before I climb into the tub. I lean back against the edge, the hot water on my skin causing my body to relax instantly. I spread my legs and peer up at Roman, lit only by candlelight, and wait for him to join me.

My big dick gets hard right before my eyes, and I pull my lip between my teeth.

In this moment, I feel loved, cherished, and absolutely beautiful.

This man is my fairy tale.

Looking at her—naked, legs spread, waiting for me—all I want to do is crawl in and sink into her warm center. I sigh, reminding myself to be patient, and then climb into the tub after her. As soon as I lean back against her chest, she wraps her arms and her legs around me. I can’t help but smile; she loves getting to be the big spoon when we’re in the tub.

I prop my arms on top of her legs as she rests her cheek against the top of my head and we sit in silence, simply enjoying the nearness of each other. When she begins to trace lazy circles with her fingers against my chest, I close my eyes and sigh. There’s no place I’d rather be than in her arms right now.

“I didn’t tell you,” I begin to say, suddenly remembering the events of my morning.

“Tell me what?”

“I went into Little Bird this morning to get a coffee and I ran into Brandon. He proposed a few days ago.”

“Did she say yes?”

I open my eyes, tilting my head back to peek at her. “Do you really have to ask?” I inquire, thinking back to the few times Daphne and Trevor have had us all over for couples night at their house. “You’ve seen those two.”

“Yeah,” she says with a half-hearted laugh. “You’re right. Well, that’s great. Good for them.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, turning my head and resting it back against her shoulder.

“Mm,” she hums, her fingers coming to a halt. “Did Daph send you the picture she took of Care today?”

“MmMm,” I reply, shaking my head.

“She was wearing the pink outfit we got her a few weeks ago. It fits now. Perfect timing.”

“You’ll have to show me later.”

I feel her nod before her legs squeeze around me tighter. “I can’t wait until we have one,” she whispers.

I blink and suddenly it’s really hot. “Logan, are you—?”

“I know,” she interrupts, squeezing me again. “I know we said we’d wait and talk about it later. I know that when I brought it up before, it was way too soon. But it’s been a few months now.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” I mutter, still feeling a bit anxious.

“Can we—I mean, would it be okay if we talked about it now?”

“Uh, sure. Okay. We can talk about it.”

“You don’t sound very sure…” she says, barely above a whisper.

I pinch my eyebrows together and take a deep, silent breath. She’s right. I don’t sound very sure—but it’s got nothing to do with her or even my desire to have kids. Fatherhood just seems scary as hell. I watch Trevor with Caroline and I’m amazed. I never could have imagined the version of him that he is with his daughter. It’s like he’s a different person, except he isn’t. Just like with my sister, he’s so attuned to her; and there’s this gentleness that only she can bring out of him.

There’s also his protective side. It’s fierce and I can imagine that it’s fueled by both love
and
fear—that fear that comes with the knowledge that he’s responsible for the life of another human being; a human being that needs him to survive.

I think about Logan and the way I love her, the way I feel compelled to protect her. If she has my babies—
when
she has my babies—my God, I can’t even imagine what kind of basket-case I’ll be.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she mutters, her body loosening up from around mine. “I’m sorry.”

“What—no, babe,” I begin to say, reaching up to wrap my hand around the back of her neck. I tilt my head back so I can look into her eyes. “Let’s talk about it.”

“You still want them, right?”

“Logan—I absolutely want babies with you.”

“What are you thinking, then? You want to wait some more?”

“Tell me what you want, babe.”

She shrugs before she answers. “I think that it makes sense for us to wait until you’re out of school, but it’s your last semester. In June, we’ll have been married a year and…I mean, I know that there are lots of logistics we’d have to work out. I don’t want to quit my job, and we’d have to decide if living here is our best option, and I don’t know—I’m sure there are a million other things I’m not thinking about but—but I want a family with you, Roman.