The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5)

by R. C. Martin

I’M COAXED OUT OF my sleep by his touch. As his lips press against the side of my neck, he pulls me close—my back pressed against his chest. I sigh, still half asleep, as he palms my breast, squeezing it before he rolls my nipple between his fingers. My body acts of its own accord and I can’t fight the ache that awakens me as my center grows slick with my arousal.

  He slides his hand down my stomach, his skin hot against mine, and my obedient body yields to its master. He grabs my thigh, lifting my leg and settling it over his, giving him full access to what he wants. He pushes himself into me, his cock gliding in with ease, and I moan—even though I wish I wouldn’t. I can’t help it. He feels so damn good.

  He rocks in and out of me lazily, licking and nibbling my neck, rubbing slow circles around my clit. I arch my back, my body craving what my mind is too distracted to fight off.

  I swear, his dick makes me stupid.

  “You like that, Mrs. Holloway?” he murmurs into my ear. “Does my pussy want more?”

  I don’t speak. Instead, I cover his hand at my center with my own, applying more pressure. He growls and then I’m suddenly flat on my stomach, Roman hovering over me as he begins to thrust into me fast and hard. He fucks me without abandon. It’s wild and I love it—only I wish I didn’t.

  “So perfect, babe. So tight. So fucking mine.”

  I bite my lip, begging myself not to whimper, not to groan, not to make a sound other than my ragged breathing, which really can’t be helped.

  So fucking mine.

  His mantra.

  He slides a hand underneath my hips, lifting me just slightly, and I cry out, the pleasure undeniable.

  “That’s my girl. Take your cock, babe. Come all over me—strangle your dick.” My eyes fill with tears and I shut them tight, willing myself not to cry.

  Not this time. Please, not this time!

  He slips his hand down and pinches my clit, causing my orgasm to annihilate me.

  “Roman!” I call out.

  “Fuck, yeah, babe—fuck, yes,” he groans, his climax on the heels of mine.

  When he is spent, he collapses on top of me. I have neither the strength, nor the energy to fight the sob that crawls up my throat. As I cry, I know that my tears are a mixture of both pleasure and pain.

  “Are you done peeing on me now?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

  I feel his body stiffen against mine. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. Will you please get off of me? I have to shower.”

  He does as I ask, his hand gently grazing my back as I crawl out of bed. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

  I shake my head, refusing to look at him. I know that if I look into his pretty brown eyes, I’ll forget that I’m mad. I’ll forget that somewhere, deep down, he knows what he’s doing and he knows that it’s unnecessary. I’ll forget because I know that in his eyes, all I’ll see is his love for me. So instead, I ignore him and head for the shower.

  Every morning this week has been the same. He wakes me up. He fucks me. We argue over my choice in wardrobe. Then I go to work. On Monday, it was different. He made love to me and it was about us. But on Tuesday, and every day that has followed, it’s not about us. It’s about him. It’s about Judah. It’s about what my husband won’t say. He hates that I spend everyday with a man that he will never trust.

  I belong to Roman, and yet he feels the need to claim me every morning before I go into the office. While my body appreciates his dominance, while my body adores jealous Roman, my heart is getting a little tired of him.

  I'm in the shower for all of two seconds before I have company. I close my eyes, tilting my head back as I let the water drench my hair, and pretend I'm unfazed by his presence. I'm still not ready to look him in the eyes.

  “Hey,” he speaks softly, wrapping his arms around my middle. He pulls me against him and I sigh, resting my forehead against his shoulder. “What was that about? What's wrong?”

  “If you don't know, then we don't have time to get into it. I have to get ready to go.”

  I start to turn away from him but he tightens his grip, pinning me in place. “Talk to me, Logan. Look at me.”

  I bring my eyes up to meet his and it hits me all at once.

  My frustration.

  My adoration.

  The moment.

  I curse my heart as my eyes well up. He didn't even know we were fighting before the moment came. That's just not fair.

  “I can't do this. We can't do this every morning. It doesn't feel good, Rome.”

  He lifts an eyebrow at me, a smug smile playing at his lips. “I think my pussy would—”

  “I'm not talking about your damn pussy, Roman!” I yell, pressing both hands against his chest in an effort to push him away from me. When he doesn't budge, I hit my fist against him in frustration. He doesn't even flinch, which only exasperates me more. “I married you. I'm yours. I'm yours,” I insist, reaching up to hold his face between my hands. “Nothing anybody says or does will change that.”

  “I know,” he mutters, peering down at me with a scowl.

  “Then stop treating me like your fire-hydrant.”

  He shakes his head once, bringing a hand up to cover one of mine, encasing my fingers in his warmth. “I'm not.”

  “You're not?” I ask incredulously, pulling my hands from his face. “Then tell me that wasn't about him. Tell me you woke up horny and the fact that I'll be spending my day in the office with Judah didn't cross your mind, not even once. Tell me, and don't you dare lie.” He presses his lips into a tight line and I get my answer. My love. He doesn't lie to me. A blessing and a curse. Just now, I would have preferred the lie.

  “He kissed me one time, a year and a half ago!”

  “You don't see the way he looks at you.”

  “What does it matter? It means nothing to me.”

  “It matters, Logan.”

  “You can't control everything, Roman,” I bite, shoving his arm. This time, he doesn't resist me and both of his hands fall to his sides. “He comes with the job. The job I love, remember? He's not going anywhere, so you’re going to have to get used to it.” He goes silent once more and I shake my head, turning my back to him. “I have to shower. So, unless you're just here to watch the show, you should probably get out.”

  He leaves just as quickly as he came and my chest aches. I feel worse now than I did before. Better to start the day with an orgasm than a fight. Now I'm starting the day with a fight over my orgasm.

  It's going to be a long day.

  I can barely concentrate. Since the moment I stepped out of the shower with Logan, I haven’t been able to get our argument out of my head. It’s like a broken record, playing over and over. Knowing that I’ve got three sessions of yoga to teach this afternoon and into the evening, I decide to make my way in for a morning session to try and find some focus. I arrive at the studio just in time for Cassy’s advanced class, and I lay out my mat in the back.

  I work my body for the next hour, the distraction welcome, and my muscles appreciative of the exercise. Nevertheless, when the session is finished, I’ve still got Logan on my mind.

  Then stop treating me like your fire-hydrant.

  Is that really how I make her feel? Her body is mine for the taking, as mine is hers, that was our vow. My need to be inside of her is just a reminder—to the both of us—that we belong to each other. It’s not like I’m showing up to her job everyday, parading her around in front of that prick who is now her boss. I want to. I most certainly want to—but I’m not.

  Regardless of what I am or am not doing, the look in her eyes—It doesn’t feel good, Rome—I can’t shake the feeling that came over me when she said the words, her eyes filled with tears. I’ve somehow managed to make her feel like an object instead of the woman that I love more than life itself. But, dammit, I can’t help it that I crave her—that I need her—need to claim her as mine.

  She is mine.

  I roll up my mat, frustrated that my m
ind could not be placated. Noting the time, I decide to drop in on Daphne. Perhaps a little time with my niece and my sister will help get my head right.

  It takes me just under a half an hour to get to their house. When I pull up in the drive behind Daphne, I notice that Trevor’s truck is still here. I get out of the Jeep and I’m greeted with an unwelcome explanation. It’s apparent that he’s on his way out, only he’s obviously a little reluctant to leave. He’s got Daphne pressed against the doorframe, his tongue in her mouth as he gives her a hearty kiss goodbye.

  Or hello. It’s actually kind of hard to tell.

  They’ve been married for over a year, now. Seeing the two of them like this, after years of only being just friends, it’s nothing new. Today, however, I’m really not in the mood.

  “It’s cold out,” I bark. “You’re letting the heat escape. Where’s my niece?”

  They jump apart from each other, like a pair of teenagers who have been caught red handed, and gape at me in surprise.

  “Shit, Corny, you scared me!” Daphne gasps.

  “Hey, Rome, what’s up?” Trevor asks, lifting his ball cap before sliding it back on, the bill in the back, like usual.

  I shrug. “Came to see Care.”

  “What, I became a mother and suddenly I’m irrelevant? Go figure,” my sister teases. I’m not amused, a fact that she picks up on right away. “Oh,” she mutters, looking to Trevor. “He came for snuggles.”

  “Our baby girl does like a good snuggle,” he murmurs, touching his nose to hers. “I better go.” He pecks her lips. “Love you.”

  She grabs hold of his jacket, pulling herself up onto her tiptoes as she brings her lips to his ear. She whispers something only he can hear and he reaches around her to grip either side of the doorframe behind her. When she’s finished, she lowers herself back onto her heels and his head falls as he shakes it from side to side. He lingers for a second before he clears his throat and adjusts his pants.

  For crying out loud…

  “I’ll see you later, Wings,” he mutters before he leaves the doorway. “Later, Rome,” he says with a quick nod as he passes.

  “Alright—get in here, grumpy,” Daphne orders with a nod.

  I follow her inside, shutting out the cold behind me. She makes her way into the living room, where Caroline is playing contentedly in her play-pin. When she scoops up her little one, she kisses her neck. Caroline giggles and squirms before she begins muttering incoherently.

  “You snuggle, you talk. That’s the deal.”

  “I know,” I tell her, shedding my coat. She reaches for the garment as she hands me Caroline, who comes willingly into my arms. I can hardly believe how big she’s getting. Nine months seems to have flown by. Before we know it, I’m sure she’ll be walking and talking and getting into all sorts of trouble.

  She’s going to be a trouble maker, I’m sure. She’s already got so much personality. Plus, with Daphne as her mother? There’s no doubt she’ll take the world by storm—breaking hearts along the way. I do not envy Trevor. Though, he’s not the only one guys’ll have to get through to get to our sweet Caroline.

  “Alright, I’m waiting. Let’s hear it,” says Daphne, plopping down on the couch.

  I sit beside her, settling Care in my lap. She leans back against me as she fidgets with the stuffed toy she’s got in her hands. “Logan and I got into this morning.”

  “Okay.”

  She doesn’t ask any questions. That’s something I love about Daphne. She’s always been someone I can talk to, even when we were young. She knows when to pry and when to just listen. When it comes to Logan and me, she’ll never ask for more. Respecting that regardless of how close we are—or how close she is with Logan—she knows that she doesn’t belong in our bed any more than I belong in hers with Trevor. Daphne knows her boundaries, and now she waits for me to give her what I can.

  “She tell you about Judah?”

  “Oh, God—tell me you’re not fighting about him,” she groans, scrunching her face at me.

  “I don’t like it,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Don’t like what?”

  “Her. With him. Every day.”

  She straightens her back, folding her hands in her lap as she stares at me with a blank expression on her face. I wait for her to say something, but she says nothing. I shrug and Caroline fills the silence with a high pitch squeal. Daphne’s eyes flicker to her daughter, a small smile pulling at her lips. I look down in my lap as well. Care is talking to herself, playing with her feet. When I look back over at my sister, the same blank expression is still on her face.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “I will, when you stop being an oblivious ass.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask with a furrowed brow.

  “Do you hear yourself? Her. With him. Every day.”

  “I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. And the way he looks at her…”

  “Wow. You know, this—this version of you,” she begins to say, her hands motioning at me. “I didn’t know you could be like this until you fell for Logan. Sometimes, I think it’s really sweet. Sometimes, it makes me so incredibly relieved that my best friend fell in love with you—someone who would love her so hard; someone who would be the opposite of the man who broke her; someone who would fight for her, no matter what. Then sometimes, it makes you kind of dumb.”

  “How am I being dumb? Their history—”

  “Stop. Don’t refer to them as a they. They aren’t a they. You’re a they. Besides, her history with him should prove to you that she’s always going to pick you. You have absolutely no reason to be jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous.” Daphne laughs, which catches Caroline’s attention. She starts to giggle and then peers up at me. I smile at her, despite my mood and my extreme dislike for this conversation. I can’t help it. She’s adorable—with her brown eyes and matching curly hair. She turns herself around and climbs her way up my chest as she begins to babble.

  “You are jealous,” says Daphne, recapturing my attention. “See? Oblivious ass.”

  “I’m not,” I tell her, keeping a hand on Care’s back to steady her as I return my focus to my sister. “He doesn’t have any respect for her boundaries. The last time he made a move on her, she was with me and he knew it. What’s to stop him from doing the same now?”

  “Has he done anything?” she asks with a shrug.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “It was a long time ago, Roman. A lot has changed.”

  “You didn’t see him when I walked in on Monday.”

  “Bro—newsflash. Your wife is hot. Like, drop dead gorgeous, sexy-as-shit hot. Men look at her all the time. Probably more than you realize, because you’re also one of those men. The difference is—the only one she’s looking at is you. She goes home with you. The ring on her finger, the name she signs—they all belong to you. So you sitting here, telling me that you’re fighting over—what?—some guy she works with? Something she has no control over? You’ll have to excuse me if I think you’re being a little ridiculous.”

  My mind takes me back to this morning, back to the shower, back to when Logan had her hands wrapped around my face.

  I married you. I’m yours. I’m yours.

  Daphne’s right. Logan doesn’t just belong to me on paper. It’s more than her body that is mine. Her heart—she’s trusted me with her heart. She’s my wife and she loves me and, just like she said, nothing anybody says or does will change that. Yet, I can’t shake this feeling. I don’t trust Judah. Not even a little. I trust my wife—I know that she will always choose me—but I don’t want her to have to make a statement. I don’t want her to have to make it anymore clear than it already is. I don’t want her to have to fight him off if he makes a move. I just…I just want to protect her from that.

  I want to protect her and I can’t.

  “Hey,” Daphne murmurs, pulling me from my thoughts as she rests a hand on my shoulder. “She’s a badass, Corny. She’
ll fight for you, too. You can’t worry so much. You have to trust her.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter lamely.

  “Give it time. You’ll all get used to it.”

  That’s where she’s wrong. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Judah.

  Judah’s presence in the office is palpable. I’m sure it has nothing to do with him, per se; rather, it has everything to do with people’s reaction to him. Brittany, who practically purrs every time he walks by our office door, is still buzzing with excitement about him being a constant in our daily routine. Truth be told, I can’t exactly blame her. He’s easy on the eyes, he smells amazing, and he’s brilliant. But it’s his brain that I appreciate the most.

  I admire his work and I won’t lie and say that it won’t be nice having him around to learn from. The last time we worked as a team, he pushed me and challenged me and I grew in ways I never thought possible in such a short span of time. Do I think he’s an asshole? Absolutely. He hasn’t changed over the last year. Nevertheless, he’s a valuable asset. I just wish I could get my husband to understand that.

  Roman, who is with me wherever I go, is another reason why Judah’s presence is annoyingly apparent. Our argument from earlier still weighs heavily on my heart. I hate it. Not just because I don’t like when Roman and I are at odds, but because I don’t like how his jealousy has cast a dark shadow over my work place. I love my job, so much; but not when I know being here is causing issues for me at home.

  I spend all morning at my desk, working on a couple of designs for a project I’m doing with Miranda and Rick. For the most part, I’m left alone, which makes this day bearable; but by lunch, I decide that I need to get out. I’m not particularly hungry. I haven’t heard from Roman at all and it has my stomach in knots. When I slide into the driver’s seat of my car, a smile pulls at my lips as I get an idea.

  I’m at Trevor and Daphne’s place twenty minutes later.

  The grin that splices her face when she sees me catches me off guard.

  “Come in, sis. Take off your coat, have a seat. Care-Bear just went down for a nap, but that spoiled little thing won’t wake when I bring her to you.”