by Kendall Ryan
For a second, he just stares, his mouth slightly open. Then he crushes our lips together, fiery and joyful. “Are you kidding?” He gasps. “I’m crazy about you. I’m more than okay with this—I’m over the fucking moon.” Another hard kiss. “I love you so much. You make me so happy.” The words pour out between hot, sweet kisses, as if he can’t stand to keep his emotions inside but he also can’t stand to stop touching me, our guests be dammed.
I love being the center of this man’s world. And even though I can’t imagine that anything could top this moment, somehow I know that our wedding night will.
Chapter Fourteen
Olivia
The dreamy little smile on my lips refuses to fade. The night has been magical. Enchanted. I felt like a princess. But instead of being rescued from a dark castle, my prince rescued me from a loveless life of monotony and work. With Noah by my side, everything is brighter.
The limousine drops us off at home. Rather than being tired from the late hour, I’m energized. As Noah unlocks our front door, I’m struck by how the meaning of this penthouse apartment has changed for me. Dad gave it to us as an early wedding gift, but we were only getting married in the legal sense, and at the time, I hadn’t even come around to that idea yet. Noah and I could barely call each other friends. The gift was an awkward shock. I was angry, scared, resentful at being forced out of my own space.
For the first couple of weeks, Noah and I tiptoed around each other like houseguests. But eventually, as we grew closer, it became a comfortable refuge where we reunited at the end of a long day and restored each other’s spirits. Now it’s our true marital home—a place where love sprouted and took root. It’s truly ours, truly shared, not just a lease that happens to have two names on it.
I’m startled out of my thoughts when Noah bends low and sweeps me off my feet—literally, with one strong arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders.
“W-what are you doing?” I squeak, throwing my arms around his neck.
He chuckles, and I can feel the vibration in his chest even through his tuxedo jacket. “Carrying you across the threshold. What does it look like, Snowflake?”
I relax slightly, no longer nervous about falling. “That was supposed to happen when we were first married.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t do it at the time. All of today is my big do-over.” His voice lowers to a sultry hum. “And that includes the wedding night we never got.”
Damn, I like the sound of that. I let him know by stretching up to kiss his stubbled jaw.
Cradling me bridal-style, Noah steps easily through the doorway as if I weigh nothing. “Anywhere else you want to go while your chariot is still at your service? Like the bedroom?”
“I thought you were always at my service,” I tease as I glance around. “Hmm, how about the couch first? We should relax a little before just jumping into things.”
Noah carries me into the living room and sets me on the couch. But before he can straighten up again, I grip his lapels and tug him down with me, into a tangle of limbs and a deep kiss that leaves us both flushed.
“What happened to taking tonight slow?” His voice is noticeably huskier.
With the mischievous grin that I learned from him, I reply, “I lied.” Then I push Noah back to sit up and swing my leg over his lap, straddling him.
He gives a quiet murmur of approval and kisses me. I return it, and our tongues dance hard and deep. I hike up the skirt of my dress so that I can grind my hips down against his growing erection. He rewards me with another rougher growl that demands more. Without breaking our kiss, I unbutton his tuxedo jacket. He shrugs it off and tosses it toward the far end of the couch, letting it land in a heap. But when I reach down to unzip his pants, Noah catches my hand.
“Wait, babe,” he says, sounding like it pains him to stop me. “Slow down; let me get a condom.” He reaches for his discarded suit jacket to grab his wallet.
Now it’s my turn to cover his hand with mine. “Actually, I was thinking we’d go without one tonight.”
I bite my lip, grinning, when he stares at me with an earnest expression in his eyes.
“Don’t fucking tease me like that, baby.” He lets out a low groan. “Did you start taking the pill or something?”
“No, I’m not on any birth control.” I know the words I spoke to him earlier tonight must be flashing through his mind with even greater clarity. “Tonight I’m ready to feel you, all of you. Just us . . . together.”
“Fuck yes, baby, that sounds so fucking perfect.”
I need him now. Working my hand into the front of his pants, I pull his cock out and stroke it while he releases a satisfied sigh.
Noah’s hands go to work, unzipping the back of my dress, and I rise to my feet and watch it puddle on the floor. As soon as I step out of the dress, I plant myself back in Noah’s warm lap, not wanting to stay away for even a second.
I trace the lettering I’m still getting used to, loving it more than I ever thought possible, and he inhales sharply at my touch.
“I can’t believe you put my name here. It’s permanent, you know?”
“So are we,” he murmurs, kissing my throat.
His fingertips trace my curves, the white silky lace of my lingerie. But I can’t wait any longer. I yank aside my panties and impale myself on him, sinking down onto his steely length with a satisfied sigh.
Noah bites his lip and moans deep in his chest, an animal sound of pure pleasure. “Holy fuck, that feels amazing.”
I have to agree with him. Something about the sensation of his hot flesh directly against mine is so gratifying, so intimate and primal. I can feel every detail of his cock inside me—the ridge where head becomes shaft, the way it twitches when I clench my inner muscles. And even if it didn’t feel any different for me, just the knowledge that his pleasure has intensified so much would be fucking hot.
He grips my ass cheeks in his palms, lifting and lowering me slowly. His biceps flex with each movement, and I feel like a goddess perched on her throne with the way he’s worshiping my skin, nibbling my throat.
Time to test his stamina. I set a fast pace, riding him hard, my breath coming fast from my throat every time I plunge down and thrust his cock straight into my G-spot. Neither of us gives a shit that Noah is still mostly dressed and we haven’t made it to the bedroom. This is the honeymoon we never got to have, and we’re damn well going to enjoy it.
“Olivia . . .” Noah moans, as if just saying my name gives him pleasure. “I love you. You’re my . . . whole world.”
Words fail me. The devotion shining in his eyes is too much—I can barely breathe, let alone speak. I crush our mouths together, trying to pour all my happiness into my kiss, knowing he’ll understand. This man is all mine. He chased me, caught me, tattooed my name on his skin, and now I’m never letting go.
The sounds of panting and the smack of skin on skin fill the air. I gasp when Noah’s hand pushes between our sweaty, writhing bodies to start working my clit. He bucks his hips to meet me with every thrust, his other arm locked tight around my waist to keep up the demanding rhythm. He alternately cranes his head up to kiss me or down to bury his face in my breasts, licking and sucking my nipples.
“Come for me,” Noah growls, rubbing my clit harder. “You’re so beautiful. Let me make you come, let me watch you . . .”
I’ve never wanted anything so bad. Feverishly I grind down on him, needing more, faster. I’ve been waiting all day to touch him like this. The heat between my legs coils tight—
Then finally snaps, flooding white sparks of pleasure throughout my body. My arms tighten around him, every muscle quivering in ecstasy as I fall into his dark, adoring eyes.
“So perfect,” Noah pants. “I can feel you coming, pulsing around me . . .” His words dissolve into a loud groan and his cock throbs inside me.
It feels like forever until the tremors fade. With his cock still softening in me, I rest my sweaty forehead against Noah’s. He kisses
me softly, just the barest brush of lips.
When I’ve caught my breath, I lean back to brush a stray curl of damp hair out of his eyes, smiling down at him fondly. Noah has spiced up my life in ways I never could have anticipated. I’m happier, calmer, more carefree and adventurous. And not just because of the increase in orgasms, either . . . although that certainly doesn’t hurt.
I feel a dripping sensation between my thighs. My smile falters and my cheeks flush when I realize it’s Noah’s come. I’ve never had condom-less sex with a man before. Obviously, I knew it would involve him coming inside me, but actually feeling the evidence is a totally different matter. It’s both embarrassing and strangely, unexpectedly hot.
Noah reads my mind. “Want me to clean you up?”
That sounds nice . . . also really hot, actually. “You got me all messy, so it only seems fair,” I tease my sweet husband.
Noah rises, lifting me into his arms, and carries me toward the bedroom. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, a sigh of love on my lips.
Epilogue
Olivia
Three Months Later
I close my laptop with a sigh. It’s five o’clock on the dot. Normally, I might be tempted to work overtime, but not today. My Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings are reserved for visiting Dad. My younger sister, Rachel, visits him on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, since her classes end early on those days, and she often spends weekends with him too.
Dad’s health has declined steadily ever since he fell the night of Tate & Cane’s gala. Our Hail Mary pass, the night that saved our company, also spelled the beginning of his end. Three months ago, Dad was given only one more month to live. His doctors aren’t really sure how he exceeded that prognosis by such a huge margin—although Dad himself always says, “It’s because my two wonderful daughters visit so often and keep my spirits up.”
But it’s clear that his journey will come to an end soon; we just don’t know exactly when. He’s confined to his bed much of the time, but he has a helpful staff to look after him in his own home, rather than in a hospital.
Not too long ago, I thought I’d be sobbing nonstop. And sometimes I do still find myself choking up. But Dad is so positive about everything that I can’t help being soothed. His lack of fear and his acceptance of his death has helped me accept it too. I try to cherish the present moment instead of mourning the inevitable and letting it spoil what little time we have left. Whenever the tears come, I let myself feel them, but with hope that the grief doesn’t pull me under completely.
My car purrs as I leave New York City behind, away from its noisy, smoggy hustle into the slower quiet of the suburbs. Instead of pulling my car into his garage when I arrive, I park on the street outside the front gate and walk up the winding driveway, enjoying the crisp air of the last days of autumn. The garden’s flowers have faded and fallen, but their leaves are still green, the rosebushes are still pregnant with plump red blooms. The oak tree sheltering the house is a blaze of orange and yellow.
I let myself in the front door. A woman in scrubs bustles past me down the main hall. I recognize her as the registered nurse who comes once a day to monitor Dad’s condition. I walk to the master bedroom, which has been transformed into a makeshift hospital room: a mechanized bed, a wheelchair, an IV stand, an oxygen tank, a host of gently beeping monitors. Another younger woman in plainclothes—his overnight aide who sleeps in the guest bedroom—peers at me over the top of the book she’s reading. The sight of all this medical equipment is still a little intimidating, but it reassures me to know that someone is here to help him at all hours.
“Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?” I say as I cross the room. Dad is sitting up in bed. Today must be a relatively pain-free day.
He raises his hand in a weak wave, a cluster of tubes and wires trailing from his arm. “Good afternoon, sweetheart. Tell me how you are first.”
I smile at him. He always insists upon that, no matter what. I lean down to kiss his cheek and sit in the armchair by his side.
“Well, Tate & Cane is doing great. Our stock prices are higher than they’ve been in ten years. We’ve been getting so many work offers, we’ve actually had to hire a few freelance subcontractors to pick up the slack.”
“Excellent news,” he says. “I’m so proud of you and Noah. You two kids have done more for this company than I ever dreamed. I only wish Bill had lived to see this day, but I suppose I’ll just have to tell him all about it when I get to heaven.” Then he gives me a pointed look, his thinning eyebrows slightly raised. “Do you enjoy being a CEO? I hope you’ve been taking enough time for yourself too.”
“Yes, I love it. And we try to reserve weekends for relaxing together.”
“Sounds like things are pleasant at home.”
I nod, grinning. Sometimes I still get giddy over the fact that I’m married to Noah—happily now, not just legally. “And I have a big announcement.”
“Oh?”
I lean over to take Dad’s hand and look him in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”
Joy dawns gradually over his face as the good news sinks in. “Really? You’re sure?”
“I just went to the doctor yesterday for an official test.” Usually, it’s not a great idea to announce a pregnancy so early, but a grandchild is my father’s dying wish. I can jump the gun a little bit.
“Oh, how wonderful.” He heaves a blissful sigh and there are tears shimmering in his eyes.
It’s a moment I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to have with my father, and it’s every bit as sweet and heartfelt as I imagined it would be.
“How are you feeling? And have you thought about names yet?” he asks.
“I’m feeling great; don’t worry. We figured William or Frederick for a boy, Dahlia or Susan for a girl.” It only seems right to name our baby after one of its grandparents.
Dad blinks, then laughs until a coughing fit cuts him off. “I appreciate the thought, sweetheart, but for God’s sake, don’t name the poor thing Fred. Or at least use it for the middle, not the first. That name is getting to be on the old-fashioned side these days.”
I give him a look. “And Dahlia isn’t?”
“Perhaps, but you’ll have to take that up with Noah.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a chuckle. Without letting go of Dad’s hand, I pull a small, folded square of cloth from my purse. “But I’m not sure he’ll be able to think straight for a few days. He was so excited yesterday, he ran right out of the doctor’s office and bought this.”
Dad unfolds the present. It’s an infant onesie made of butter-soft, pale yellow cotton. Beaming at me, he hugs the tiny piece of clothing to his heart.
I gently squeeze his free hand. “Okay, Dad, I told you how I’ve been. Now you tell me how you are.”
“Do you even need to ask, sweetheart? I couldn’t be happier.”
Blinking back tears, I reply simply, “Me too.”
Epilogue Two
Noah
I did it. I totally put a bun in her oven. I am so the fucking man. My wife is incredible, and I can’t wait to see her as a mother. Because this baby? This will make us a true family, and one I’m honored to be part of.
Even sweeter news? In an unexpected twist, we learned from Prescott that the estate attorney over my father’s will had been instructed not to tell us that the will had stipulated our shares of the company be placed in a trust if the heir clause wasn’t met within ninety days, but if we did marry and produce an heir at a later date, the shares would revert to our child. It’s an even happier happy ending. We’ve got this.
Game on.
Coming Soon
The Fix Up
British bad boy Sterling Quinn needs a wife.
After his great-grandfather, the former prince something or another, passes and leaves him millions, Sterling is shocked to discover the massive inheritance has a clause—he needs to clean up his image and be married in order to receive his millions.
When word get
s out that this hottie has royal blood running through his veins and is on the prowl for Mrs. Right, crazy ex-girlfriends, schoolyard crushes, and thousands of other hopeful women flock to his doorstep. What he needs is a manager to help him sort through the clutter.
Enter Camryn Palmer, PR executive.
Camryn has had a front-row seat to her friend Sterling’s revolving door of a love life for years. But when she’s hired to clean up his image, and manage the hordes of women cruising through his bedroom door, she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Literally.
Yes, she has secret fantasies about being the one to keep his bed warm, but what woman doesn’t? He’s sinfully attractive and she wants to kiss that cocky English accent right off his lips, but she’s got a job to do. She’s a professional through and through, and besides, an arranged marriage could never be a happy one. Right?
Filled with hot and humorous moments, you won’t want to miss The Fix Up!
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Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the following ladies who played an important role in helping me bring Hitched into the world: Alexandra Fresch, Hang Le, Natasha Gentile, Rachel Brookes, Danielle Sanchez, and Pam Berehulke. I’m so grateful to have each of you on my team.
