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Ollie’s brow furrowed for a beat before Beau and Tillie popped up from the front row. I fished the tiny Nerf gun from my bouquet and, together, we all opened fire. The crowd erupted with laughter just as Ollie did—right before lunging.
I shrieked, sprinting barefoot down the hot sand, cackling. I didn’t even make it to the end of the rows of chairs before the man hooked an arm around my waist.
“Get her, Ollie!” one of my brothers shouted, while Beau and Tillie chased after us, giggling and firing foam darts like mini mercenaries.
The moment we were nose to nose, he swallowed my laughter with a kiss, threading his hand through my loose curls as cheers broke out behind us—naturally, the guys were the loudest.
Then Ollie bent low and threw me over his shoulder, landing a solid smack on my ass as I howled with laughter.
“That’s a wrap, folks!” he called, carrying me down the beach to more laughter and applause.
“Ollie!” I squeaked, cheeks aching from smiling so hard.
“You started it,” he pointed out, marching us inside—but bypassing the staging area where the photographer was supposed to meet us. “It’s only right I finish it.”
“Ollie,” I gasped as he rounded the corner into Greyson’s study, closed the door, and backed me against it with no ceremony at all. His mouth descended on mine in a kiss so bruising my head spun, heat blooming low in my belly as his hands swept over every inch of lace and ribbon painted onto my curves.
When he finally pulled back, breathless, he growled, “I fucking love you,Mrs. Hart.”
Smiling softly, I said, “I fucking love you too, Mr. Hart.”
“‘Til death do us part, huh?”
“I demand to go first.”
“You’renine yearsyounger than me.” He spun us, laughter bubbling in my throat as he pressed me against Grey’s floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
“Then we’ll get struck by lightning or hit by a bus or something. I’m not picky, as long as we’re old.”
“That would be epic,” he muttered, barely holding onto composure before chuckling against my lips and stealing them again. His hand slipped through the slit in my dress, hiking my leg around his hip. A satisfied rumble vibrated in his chest as his hand slid up my thigh, then under the barely-there scrap of lace I called underwear. He groaned, head tipping back like it physically pained him when he found how wet I was. “Thatfor me, trouble?”
“Always.”
“Where does my wife want to get fucked the first time as a Hart? In bed at the honeymoon suite at two a.m., or right here against the bookshelf?” One blunt finger slipped inside me, making my back arch.
“Ollie,” I gasped, his hand clamping over my mouth as a wicked grin curled his lips.
“Which is it, trouble?” he asked, curling his finger just right—he’d long ago mastered the art of detonating my orgasms on command. His thumb pressed against my clit, sending my eyes rolling back in my head.
“You own me,” I breathed, fighting to suck down enough air to think logically.
“Damn straight,” he murmured against my neck as he buried himself there.
Before I could think better of it, I was already unfastening his belt, then his suit pants, pushing his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.
“That’s my good fucking girl.” He smiled against my lips as he crowded in closer, tugging aside the lace and lining himself up, spreading my arousal over my folds. “Can my good girl be quiet?”
The instant I nodded, he thrust inside me with one claiming snap of his hips, his hand tightening on my thigh where he kept me pinned. My hands flew to his back, clawing at the muscles beneath his suit jacket as he fucked me like it was a soul-deep need.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
I must’ve muttered it against his palm, desperation clawing up my chest as his hold tightened.
“Eyes on me, Mrs. Hart.”
I peeled them open, locking on deep brown eyes so full of adoration they could’ve welded my broken pieces together—if I’d had any left to fix. A soft smile spread over his breathtaking face, and I slid a hand to his jaw as he drove into me with that relentless, ruinous rhythm he’d perfected.
This man had a gift for waking me up in the sexiest ways possible on his days off, so I should’ve known we wouldn’t make it to the hotel before he wrecked me again.