The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5)

by R. C. Martin

  I’m not going to be alone, either.

  My gaze drifts back to Logan and, as if she can feel my stare, she turns back to look at me. She smiles and without a word, I can hear her thoughts.

  Fifty days. Fifty days until we start trying for our own.

  I wink at her, signaling my understanding, and the most brilliant smile lights up her face. I know, in this moment, I’ll give her as many babies as she wants if it’ll make her smile like that for the rest of our lives.

  I DON’T WANT TO open my eyes, afraid that when I do, this dream will end. The sound of my girl sucking my cock seems real, and I sigh, hoping that nothing pulls me from this sweet slumber. When she hums, the vibration of her voice makes me moan. She feels so damn good. It isn’t until she drags her teeth along the length of my shaft that I realize I’m not dreaming.

  “Logan,” I murmur, opening my eyes. When I look down, I see the form of her body underneath the sheets. She licks and then kisses the tip of my head before she crawls up my body. When her face is uncovered, I’m greeted by her beautiful smile. Her long, blonde hair is a mess from sleep and her face is completely bare of any make up. She’s so sexy, I can hardly stand it. I can’t help but grab hold of each side if her face, pulling her in for a kiss. “You’re such a babe,” I whisper against her lips.

  “You too, baby,” she giggles. She presses her lips against mine once more. When she deepens the kiss, I’m a little surprised—she hates my morning breath. Nevertheless, I don’t refuse her. Instead, I sink my fingers in her hair and keep her close. “Mmm,” she hums as she pulls away. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

  A grin tugs at my lips at her words. It’s incredible to me that I’ve spent the last year of my life as this woman’s husband. Not because it seems impossible or that she’s hard to love—but because she’s remarkably easy to love. There have been so many days when I’ve felt like I didn’t deserve her and yet God saw fit to give her to me anyway. I thank Him for her everyday. My love. My life.

  Two years ago, if anyone would have told me that we’d be here, I would have thought they had lost their ever-loving mind. Now—I can’t imagine my life without her.

  “Happy anniversary, babe.”

  She kisses me again, running her fingers through my hair. “Roman,” she whispers.

  “What is it, babe?”

  “We have over an hour before we have to leave for the airport.”

  “Yeah?” I murmur with a smirk, sweeping her hair behind her ears.

  “Yeah. I was thinking—I was thinking maybe we could do that thing you said we’d do…you know…?”

  I smile up at her and then trace my thumb across her bottom lip. “You got rid of your pills?”

  She nods enthusiastically. “I stopped taking them yesterday.”

  I hold her against me and then roll us over, pinning her to the bed. She giggles and I kiss her lips. “You think we can make a baby right now?”

  “I don’t know,” she answers with shy grin. “Maybe. Technically, I think my body might need to get used to being off the pill. But I also think God can do whatever He wants.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I agree, my mouth leaving a wet trail down her neck. “We’ll try every day. Just in case.” I reach my hand down between her legs and find that she’s already bare for me. I drag my finger between her wet folds and she whimpers when I swirl around her clit before burying two fingers inside of her. As I pump in and out of her, her breathing grows ragged. I can tell she’s feeling impatient. When I close my mouth around one of her nipples, sucking through the fabric of her negligee, she whines.

  “Roman, take it off—just take it off. Make love to me, baby.”

  I pull my fingers free and then begin taking off the last garment of clothing that stands between us. As I push the fabric up, I nibble and lick my way along her belly—hopefully soon to be filled with my child—and then between her breasts. Once the offensive item has been discarded, she grips either side of my face and pulls me to her. I kiss her slowly and I can feel it as she melts beneath me, surrendering to my affection.

  She gasps as I penetrate her entrance, easing my way in until I’m balls deep.

  My Logan—she’s better than any dream.

  I pull out gently and then roll my hips, sinking into her once more. I take my time, wishing for her to feel everything—desperate for her to understand just how much I love her and just how much I want this.

  “Logan, you’re my favorite place,” I murmur, staring into her gorgeous green eyes. “Wherever we are, whenever we are, inside of you will always be my favorite place. I love you so much.”

  She drags in a shuddered breath as she wraps her arms and legs around me. “I love you so much, too. So much. I’m yours—always yours—only yours,” she says before reaching up for a kiss.

  I close my lips around hers, making love to her mouth as I make love to her body. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know we need to get ready to leave, but I don’t want to rush this moment—this moment that belongs to us.

  When she arches her back, I know she’s getting close. I pull my lips from hers as I reach for her knees. Without a word, she obediently unlocks her legs from around my waist, allowing me to spread her as wide as she’ll go, opening her hips and allowing me to dive even deeper.

  “Roman,” she mewls. “Oh, baby—yes—Roman.” She gasps, her mouth opening into a wide O as her body begins to tremble and her pussy tightens around me. She feels unbelievably incredible, the sensation of her body coming around mine just as sensational as the first time.

  My pleasure sends a rush of tingles down my spine and I thrust into her once more, my cock as deep as it’ll go as I fill her with my release. I groan as my muscles begin to relax, and I lazily rock in and out of her a couple more times before collapsing on top of her.

  “Maybe we should try every day, twice a day,” she sighs, breathless. “That was amazing.”

  I chuckle, brushing a kiss against her shoulder. “I’m sure we can manage that.” She hums her approval of my agreement, holding me tighter. “For now, we have to get ready. Round two will have to wait until we’ve reached our destination.”

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asks, her voice laced with hope and excitement.

  I prop myself up so that I can see the look in her eyes when I refuse her for the millionth time. “Nope. You’ll find out when we get to the airport.”

  She sticks her lip out as she frowns and I grin down at her.

  Love those lips. Especially when she pouts.

  I fail to convince my husband that a shared shower would save on time as we prepare to leave for our long day of travel. I’m only slightly disappointed as he promises that he’ll snuggle with me on the plane as much as I want. Today, I can’t get enough of him—I just want to be in his arms, engulfed in his warmth, in his scent, in his love—so I plan on taking full advantage of his offer.

  I feel like I have so much to be thankful for today, and even more reasons to love him—my Roman. Our first year as newlyweds has been above and beyond what I imagined it would be. Neither of us are perfect, and we’ve had our struggles. Sometimes he drives me crazy, and I’m sure I make him go insane, but with every day we share, life before we had each other seems so far out of reach and almost impossible to believe. I can’t imagine my life without him, and I thank God everyday that I wake up with him next to me. He’s my White Knight, my best friend, and my lover. He’s my everything and I’ll never stop wanting him. I’ll never stop loving him.

  As I stand in the mirror, pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I can’t help but smile in remembrance of our morning thus far. I don’t even know that I can find the words to describe how I feel about trying to make a baby with my man. Just thinking about carrying a part of him—growing his child inside of me—it makes my cheeks warm. I love that man so much. I admire him and adore him and the fact that he’s ready and willing to create a human with me, it does things to my heart. Talking about it is one
thing; but this morning, when he came inside of me—the look on his face, the feel of his body above mine, the sound that he made—all the things I love to see and to feel…they meant so much more this time.

  We’re going to make a baby.

  When it happens, I know he’s going to be such a protective pain in my ass—but I can’t wait.

  “Babe,” he calls before he peeks his head into the bathroom. “You about ready? The car’s here. I’ll load up but then it’s time to go.”

  “Yeah. I’m almost done,” I assure him with a nod.

  “Good.” He winks at me and then disappears. Ten minutes later, we’re on the road, headed for the airport.

  Since it’s still pretty early on a Sunday morning, traffic is light and we make it to our first travel stop in an hour. I spend the entire car ride asking for hints about where we’re going. I know only that we’ll be gone for a week and that we’ll be stopping in one place—which means I know nothing. Roman’s too amused with my desperate desire to know where we’re going to be annoyed. He doesn’t tell me a damn thing, either. When we go to check our bags, he even goes so far as to make me stand out of ear shot while he hands the attendant my ID to print our boarding passes.

  “You’re just being mean, now,” I pout as he takes my hand and leads me toward security.

  “Okay, okay. You really want to know?”

  I laugh as I drop his hand and smack it against his chest. “You’re an idiot! What kind of question is that? I’ve only been begging for you to tell me.”

  He laughs with me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as he pulls me into his side. “We’ll picnic in a garden of a palace; we’ll take romantic strolls through the city; we’ll spend hours looking at art—something I know you love; I’ll take you shopping, and you’ll be thanking me for keeping you on a budget these last few months,” he teases, resting his forehead against mine.

  I stop him, wrapping my arms around him as my heart races, anxious to be wherever it is that we’re going already. “But where?”

  “France, my love. I’m taking you to Paris.”

  “Oh, my god!” I squeal, springing myself up as I throw myself at him. He catches me against his chest and I wrap my legs around his waist before I cup my hands around his smiling face. “I’ve never been to Paris!”

  “I know,” he chuckles.

  “Baby!” I cry before I crush my lips against his. He tightens his grip around me and I trace my tongue across his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth.

  I could care less that we’re in the middle of the airport, people all around us as they come and go while I make out with my husband. He’s taking me to Paris. I’m so excited, I could burst. This surprise was worth the wait; worth all those nights I had to share him with Environmental Engineering while he worked his ass off through his last semester of grad school; worth every good day and bad day in between that has brought us to this moment—our first anniversary.

  “Roman,” I sigh, forcing myself to pull away.

  He opens his pretty brown eyes and looks into my green ones. For a second, I wonder if he can guess that my panties are wet from that kiss.

  “Yeah, babe?” he murmurs.

  “You’re going to get laid. A lot. We’re so making a baby in Paris.”

  He grins at me before pressing a quick kiss against my lips. “Can’t wait.”

  Intermission

  Before you go…

  Judah is up next! Here’s a little sneak peek into Fool For You, coming Summer 2016.

  Theodora

  ASSHOLES AREN'T BORN, THEY'RE made. When I met him, he had already been tarnished. Broken. His heart had already been marred by the darkness that ravages the world like an unstoppable beast. I didn't know it then. Didn't recognize the depths of his pain. I couldn't begin to understand the ways in which he was using me. I wasn't prepared for the ways in which he would destroy me.

  Justin had my heart. He had my love. Then the asshole took what he wanted and left me, kicking the dust off of his feet as if the particles were my remains–the leftovers in which he no longer had any interest. I couldn't see it then, but I see it now. He had been torn apart and remade in the image of an asshole. I was his victim.

  Where does the blame reside?

  He was a victim once too, wasn't he? Then again, to say that I feel remorse for him would be a lie. I loath him with every fiber of my being. The truth is, every victim has a choice. To rise or to fall. He chose wrong. He might not ever understand. He might not ever see—the blinders of his carnal nature, the fortress around his battered heart preventing him from embracing the purity of love. Life. Happiness.

  He may have broken me, but unlike the villain that made him, he did not make me.

  I have been reborn.

  Also by R.C. Martin

  Made for Love Series

  The Promises We Keep

  Reckless Surrender

  The O’Conners: A Made for Love Novella

  So Much More

  Mountains & Men

  Encore Worthy: A Prequel Novella

  Worthy of the Harmony (Coming Spring 2016)

  I'm a born and bred Coloradan. While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I've left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. When I'm not writing I'm reading; when I'm not reading I'm writing…you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I'm an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.

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