The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5) (2 page)

My Roman has never been with anyone else. Never. Sometimes, I regret that I cannot say the same. However, that’s always a fleeting thought. Had I never slept with Mack, I would never have met Daphne. If I never met Daphne, I would never have met and all but hated her brother. And if my best friend’s happiness didn’t mean the world to me—I would never have come up with the harebrained idea to
fake date
Roman to get Trevor into my girl’s pants.

I would have never known
this
happiness.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when Roman grips my fingers tighter and brings my hand to his lips. Goosebumps race up my arm and down the other, my breath catching in the back of my throat. My mind is suddenly full of every daydream I’ve ever had of Roman and his lips—his lips
all over me
.

“Rome, baby, drive faster!”

“We’re almost there,” he murmurs, his lips still against my skin.

I manage to tear my eyes away from him long enough to notice that he’s right. We’re almost home. He’s taken the backroads and we should arrive in less than five minutes. Given that my condo has been paid off, and it’s in close proximity to CSU, where Rome is earning his graduate degree, and Eddalyn’s Interior, where I work, we decided that it would be best if he just moved in with me once we were married. Over the last few weeks, most of his things have migrated out of the house he shared with Ashton and Ryan and into
our
place.

Of course, I’ve made some recent modifications—mainly in our bedroom and our bathroom. I wanted our space to represent
us.
I finished the remodel just a couple weeks ago and I’ve been sleeping in Daphne’s old room ever since, waiting to christen our bed with my man. It’s for this reason that we decided to spend our wedding night at
home
instead of in some plush hotel. Tomorrow, we leave for the Bahamas; but tonight, our marriage bed will be
ours.

As soon as Roman pulls into the lot and puts the car in park, I’m reaching for the door. I gasp when I feel his hand grip the back of my neck. I turn to look at him and our eyes lock before his lips crash against mine. A whimper sounds from my throat as I exhale and return his kiss with as much fervor as he’s bestowing on me. As his tongue sweeps through my mouth, a familiar ache burns in the pit of my stomach and my nether regions pulse with need. If he keeps this up for much longer, my lacy white thong will be completely drenched before we even step foot inside.

He stops the kiss just as quickly as he started it and I whine, my patience to be with him hanging on by a thread.

“Mrs. Holloway?” he speaks, his voice deep and raspy.

“Yes?” I barely manage, my head hazy with lust.

“Don’t touch that door.” I simply nod my response before he steps out of my BMW. It’s decked out in window paint, streamers and ribbon, announcing to anyone who sees us that we are now, indeed,
Mr. and Mrs.

I watch as he hurries his way around the front of the car to let me out. I’m not the least bit surprised when I have to squeeze my thighs together in order to reign in my lust at the glorious sight of him in his tailored suit. It’s not a sight I get to see often, and all I can say is—
damn! My husband is beyond sexy.

“Come on, beautiful,” he says, opening my door and extending his hand out to me. “Let’s get you home.”

I wrap my fingers around his and allow him to help me out of the car. Once my generous skirt is clear of the door, he shuts and locks it before stepping up onto the walkway. He takes long, fast strides, grinning back at me as I hurry to keep up—my clicking heels marking time to our increasing pace. I can’t help but giggle when I start to run and he joins me without a second’s hesitation.

I squeal in delight when we reach the bottom of the stairs that lead to our door and he scoops me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek as he begins to carry me.

“My husband, so traditional,” I tease.

“Don’t I know it,” he huffs. “Geez, babe—how much does this dress weigh? You’re usually much lighter than this.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I laugh. “Maybe we can weigh it once you get it off of me.”

He stops just in front of the door and pierces me with a gaze that eradicates my amusement. “Logan…”

“Yeah, baby?” I whisper.

“Take the keys and unlock the door before I bust out of these damn pants.”

I shiver, even though I’m not the slightest bit cool, and pull my lip between my teeth as I nod my understanding. Once inside, he slams the door closed with his foot—not even stopping to lock us in before he carries me straight for the bedroom.

I take her directly to bed, stopping only to flick on the light.

I want to see my bride
.

I toss her onto our mattress and she giggles before I crawl on top of her and silence her with a kiss. As my lips move with hers, our tongues twisting together ferociously, I know that this isn’t
just
a kiss. This soul searing exchange is our way of communicating to each other that we’re ready, the both of us, and we want this—
right now.

I pull my lips from hers, leaving a wet trail down her neck, across her collar bone, and in-between her amazing cleavage. “Logan,” I pant, cupping one of her tits in my hand as I continue to shower her with kisses. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are in this dress? I’ve wanted to bury my face—
here,
” I pause, licking the space between her breasts. “All. Damn. Night.”

“Oh, my god, Roman,” she sighs. “Take it off—take it off! I can hardly breathe in it anymore.”

I stand, offering her my hand. She takes it and pulls herself up, standing in front of me. Before I can turn her around to figure out how to set her free, her hands and lips are all over me. She shoves my jacket off as she kisses my neck. When she begins to loosen my tie, I untuck my shirt. She starts to undo the buttons and I help—my shirt and tank discarded in seconds.

She runs her hands down my chest and stomach, my muscles tensing when she reaches for my belt. Knowing that if she touches me right now, I’ll surely lose it, I grab hold of her wrists and pull her hands away. She gasps, looking up into my eyes.

“Dress, first.” She nods, turning her back to me. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate braid, bun thing. I noticed before that it looks really pretty; but right now, all I see is the exposed skin of her neck and back. I trace my fingers across her sun kissed shoulders, enjoying the feel of her soft skin. When I find the zipper at the top of her dress, she shivers. I bring my lips to her neck, just behind her ear, before I whisper, “You ready, babe?”

She nods enthusiastically. “I want you to see me. I want you to
touch
me. Hurry—please hurry.”

The zipper runs from the middle of her back all the way to the top of her backside. As the fabric parts at my command, my breathing grows ragged. The only thing underneath this dress is my wife and a thong. My hands leave the dress, immediately reaching for her bare sides. As I skim my way down the length of her, her gown falls around her feet.

I drop to my knees, my face inches away from her perfect ass, and I can’t stop myself from taking both cheeks and giving them a squeeze. She moans and my cock presses painfully against the seam of my pants. When she turns around, my eyes travel slowly from her white, lacy thong, all the way up to her round, perky breasts, and then finally to her eyes. She gazes down at me, cupping her hands around my face ever so gently.

“Mr. Holloway—I’m yours.”

I don’t realize that I’m trembling until I reach up to remove the scrap of cloth that covers her up—but I don’t care. I yank it down, pulling off her pink heels as she steps out of her last garment. I stand to my feet, my mouth seeking one of her nipples. I suck on the hardened bud with a groan. She slips her fingers into my hair, breathing my name as she arches her back, pushing herself against me even more. When I seek out her other tit, she reaches for my dick, grabbing hold of me through my pants. I pull her against me tighter, grazing my teeth over her nipple, her touch lighting me on fire.

“Oh, Roman, touch me—I’m so wet. I want you so badly!”

I pry my mouth away from her and bring my eyes up. The look on her face makes it impossible to refuse her. I want to take my time, I want to explore every inch of my wife with my lips, my hands—I want to taste her, savor her, worship her—but she needs me
now
. I've made her wait long enough. I've made
myself
wait long enough. Now, it's time to take what is mine.

I lift my chin, directing her to the bed.

She looks back over her shoulder and then up at me, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she captures her bottom lip between her teeth and then reaches for my belt. This time, I don't stop her. I watch as she hooks her thumbs over the waist, into the elastic band of my boxer briefs before carefully sliding them both down. My cock springs free and her uneven breaths grow louder, heavier.

Without a word, she turns away from me and climbs onto the bed, carelessly throwing decorative pillows onto the floor before pulling back the sheets and tucking her feet beneath them. I toe my way out of my shoes and socks, kicking my ankles free of my pants and underwear, and crawl in after her. She immediately reaches for my face, smothering me with kisses. I wrap her in my arms and then ease her down onto her back, straddling one of her legs with both of mine, my throbbing dick pressed against her hip. When my fingers find their way between her slick folds, we both gasp.

She feels warm and inviting and I don't hesitate to slide a finger inside of her.

“Roman,” she mewls.

I've never heard my name fall from her lips like that. It's such a turn on, I can hardly stand it.

I pump my finger in and out of her a couple times, admiring her face as she surrenders to the touch she's been craving—
my
touch. She spreads her legs wider and I ease in another finger. She whimpers and I look down to gaze at her pussy. It does something to me, seeing a piece of me inside of her—stretching her open—her arousal coating my skin. I spot her clit and it calls to me. I reach up with my thumb and graze it over the bundle of nerves. Logan moans, drawing my attention back to her face.

“You okay?” I ask softly, my fingers still at work.

“Yes,” she replies with a nod. “Don't stop.”

I smirk at her,
as if that was ever going to happen.

I don't stop. Instead, I move faster—rubbing her clit in rhythmic circles, loving the sound of her erratic breaths in my ear. I can feel it as her insides begin to flutter and squeeze around me. She lifts her hips and arches her back as her orgasm overtakes her. I can't tear my eyes away from her face. I swear, she's never looked more beautiful.

My cock agrees. I can feel it as my head drips pre-cum onto her hip, and I know that now is it. I need to be inside of her, claiming her, branding her as mine—forever. I don't waste another minute, positioning myself between her legs. I grab hold of my cock and glide the head over her entrance and up to her clit, mixing her evident desire with mine. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know I should say something—but I can't for the life of me think of a single word. All I want is to get lost in her.

My love.

My Logan.

My wife.

I ease my way in and, instantly, I'm lost in euphoria. She cries out, digging her nails into the back of my biceps, and I know by the look on her face that this feels different than a moment ago. She's in pain. But I can't stop. I can't pull out. I have to bury myself as deep as I can go. She feels too good—so tight, so warm, so soft. Once I'm all the way in, I open my mouth to speak, but she stops me, holding both sides of my face before she tells me—

“I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too, babe,” I mutter, pulling out before gliding back in. She whimpers and it’s as if she’s grabbed hold of my balls. In an instant, I lose control. I barely pull out for the second time before pleasure zings up my spine. I thrust into her once more, my cock spilling my release. The groan that follows is the most ambiguous noise I've ever made. I couldn't hold back that cry of relief even if I wanted to. But right now, the after effect of my release pales in comparison to the realization that I lasted all of three seconds.

Three damn seconds!

“Fuck,” I mutter, rolling onto my back and away from Logan. We've been waiting for this moment for what feels like ages, and I couldn't even last long enough for her to feel anything other than pain. I sit up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, unable to face the disappointment I'm sure is written all over her face. “Fuck. I'm sorry.”