The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5)

by R. C. Martin

  Copyright © 2016 R.C. Martin. All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Cover Design by Cassy Roop at Pink Ink Designs ©2016

  www.pinkinkdesigns.com

  Interior Design and Formatting by Champagne Formats

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Day One

  Day Two-Hundred-Two

  Day Two-Hundred-Three

  Day Two-Hundred-Nine

  Day Two-Hundred-Eleven

  Day Two-Hundred-Fifteen

  Day Two-Hundred-Forty-Seven

  Day Three-Hundred-Fifteen

  Day Three-Hundred-Sixty-Five

  Before you go…

  Also by R.C. Martin

  About the Author

  To my girl, Hayley, who all but begged me to throw her a bone…

  “SAY IT AGAIN,” SHE murmurs as her fingertips play with the hair at the nape of my neck.

  I pull her closer, knowing exactly what she wants without further prompting. I smile at her and she returns the expression, both of us still swaying back and forth to the music. I can’t be sure if our feet move in time with the beat, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.

  “Logan Elise Schwartz—just like the sky we’ll dance under tonight, filled with the countless stars that God knows by name, my love for you is limitless; bound neither by time nor space. You, babe, are my everything, and I will treasure you until my last breath. In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, I will cherish the gift that God gave me in the beautiful woman that you are. Your generosity astounds me; your tenderness comforts me; your creativity intrigues me; and your love completes me. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life as your husband. I promise to stand by you, to encourage you, to support you, to take care of you, to honor and respect you. Most of all, I promise to never take back what you stole—my heart is yours, Logan. Forever.”

  It’s the third time she’s asked me to repeat my vows this evening, and yet my words still manage to bring tears to her eyes. When one escapes, racing down her cheek, I reach up and wipe it away with the pad of my thumb before I gently grip both sides of her face and lean down to kiss her. She parts her lips immediately, pushing herself up on her tiptoes. I slip one hand around the back of her neck, dropping the other to the small of her back as I accept her invitation, my tongue sweeping through her deliciously hot mouth. She tastes like wine and cake, which is about all either of us have had all night.

  When our guests begin to cheer and whistle in response to our open affection, I start to pull away. Logan groans in disapproval, her grip around my neck tightening as she tugs my lip between her teeth in a desperate attempt to keep me close.

  I chuckle, pressing my lips to hers once more.“Babe,” I manage between kisses. “Have you forgotten that we have an audience?”

  “I don’t think I can wait anymore,” she whispers, her green eyes opening in search of mine. The lust I see in her gaze makes my dick jerk. “I want you so badly, I can hardly breathe. Ever since the pastor said, you may kiss the bride, I’ve wanted you to myself. All these damn people—what was I thinking inviting so many?”

  “I think that was more our parents’ fault than yours, babe,” I reply, grazing my nose along hers.

  “Then let them entertain them for the rest of the night. Can we go? Please, can we just go?”

  My chest tightens with longing. It’s been a feeling I’ve been fighting all day. I’ve waited twenty-seven years for this. The last six months have been particularly difficult. No. Nearly impossible. My wife is a knockout—in sweatpants, with her hair pulled up into a ponytail, or all dressed up for a night out, it doesn’t matter. But today, in her white dress…

  It’s strapless, the front cut to accentuate the shape of her breasts. The white material covers her chest and her stomach, but the sides and the back are just scraps of lace that I can see right through. If the bottom wasn’t so long and heavy, there’s no telling what I would have gotten away with today. Then again, we haven’t had a minute alone in hours—and even then, it was literally just a minute. There’s no question that my desire to bury myself into my woman matches her level of want. But I know my bride. I know we need just one more minute.

  I kiss her lips and then look away from her, searching the crowd for my best man. When I spot Ashton, drinking a beer and laughing with Ryan and his fiancée, Trisha, I pause a second to see if he’ll look my way. It takes a couple seconds, but being the man of the evening comes with just as many perks as it does setbacks. He nods at me when he notices me staring and I gesture with my hand, signaling that it’s time for him to hand over the keys to our getaway car. He smirks and then nods before elbowing Ryan. They exchange a word and then begin gathering the rest of the wedding party.

  When I look back down at my bride, I find that her eyes haven’t left my face. I smirk at her before pressing yet another kiss to her luscious lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you more. I can prove it. Let’s go!”

  “We will. Just—one second, okay? I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Just look around. Really look around. One last time, take it all in. You’ve worked so hard on this wedding. I want you to see the details before we say goodbye.”

  The lust in her eyes fades away, and something far softer takes its place. She inhales deeply and exhales slowly before she rests her cheek on my chest and gazes to my right.

  My girl is outrageous and insisted that it wasn’t going to rain on her wedding day. She told me that she and God worked it out; that the miracle of our relationship wouldn’t be complete without the miracle of an outdoor wedding, at the beginning of June, in Colorado, with no rain—or snow—in the forecast. She refused to rent a tent, adamant that we would dance under the stars. I kiss her forehead, not at all surprised that she got her wish. She usually does.

  We’re boxed in by an incredible amount of lights strung up around the dinner tables and the dance floor. Shades of pink and white are everywhere. I can’t deny that it looks pretty damn impressive. Leave it to Logan to make hot pink anything look elegant and classy.

  A smile pulls at my lips when she takes another deep breath and turns to rest her opposite cheek against my chest. I watch her as her eyes dance around our first slice of happily ever after. When she giggles, I turn my head in search of what she sees. I spot Daphne and Trevor in seconds. Our two-month-old niece and goddaughter, Caroline Aiden, is nestled into the crook of Trevor’s arm; his free hand is wrapped around my sister as they both dance with their little shared heart. Daphne tilts her head back and Trevor is quick to give her a kiss. They look so happy, which only makes this day even better. Their love brought me mine and I'll never forget it.

  “Thank you,” Logan murmurs, giving me a squeeze. She looks up at me with a smile. “Thank you for making me do that.”

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, resting my forehead against hers. “Ready to say goodbye?”

  “Hell. Yes!”

  I chuckle, bringing my mouth to hers before I take her hand. She laces her fingers with mine and we both tighten our grip, ready and anxious to finally be making our escape.

  As Roman speeds down the highway, my stomach tingles relentlessly. I’m so anxious and excited to finally have him to mys
elf that there are no words to adequately describe the intensity of my feelings. Today—the man I love made me his wife. He’s promised to never leave me, nor forsake me. Tonight—he’ll make me his in body and soul. I absentmindedly squeeze his hand, beyond ready to be taken and to take.

  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 herse
lf 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.