Page 193

Books rattled on their shelves, our chests heaving in sync as pleasure ignited through our bodies on the best damn day of my life.
When my body clenched around him, Ollie growled, “Yes, baby, come with me.”
I did.Wedid. Our releases hit in perfect tandem—one surreal, electric moment. Like even our orgasms knew we’d just sealed something sacred.
I chuckled softly as he pulled his hand from my mouth and replaced it with kisses. Sweet. Adoring. Unending.
But he wasn’t done.
He squeezed my thigh and sank to his knees, throwing my leg over his shoulder. He pressed kisses along my inner thighs, shoving my dress up to trace the stretch-marked skin of my belly, then lower.
Much lower.
Burying himself between my pussy, Ollie ran the flat of his tongue straight up my center, like he’d just lap up our releases.
Holy filthy hotness.
“Ollie,” I gasped as he did it again, then circled my clit with practiced precision. My legs buckled, but he pinned me effortlessly, holding me open for him with one hand and a shoulder.
By the time he was satisfied, and my limbs were liquid, Ollie grabbed tissues from Greyson’s desk and cleaned me up with gentle, thorough care.
“You look like the cat that ate the canary,” I murmured, still panting as he straightened my dress.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the scar between my breasts. My fingers found the silky strands of his hair before I remembered we still had photos to take.
“An excellent code word.”
“Agreed. Canary time—should I say that when I want to bury myself in you until I know my seed is spilling down your thighs? Until I know you’ll feel me with every step you take?”
Grinning, I couldn’t help myself. “Funny you’d say it like that.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, brow lifting. “Why’s that?”
I pressed my lips to his throat, up the strong line of his neck to his ear, and whispered, “Because you and your ‘seed’ already planted our next adventure.”
Ollie leaned back, his palms dropping to my waist, eyes wide with awe. “Leighton, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
With watery eyes and a smile that ached, I nodded. “How’s another little Ollie sound?”
He kissed me hard, his tongue tasting like us and salt and insatiable need.
“Like I’m the luckiest man alive. But I gotta be honest.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It might be.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’m praying for a pint-sized version of you.”
“Oh,” I sighed. “Oh,wow.”
He brushed his lips over mine, then laced our fingers together.
“Come on, Mrs. Hart. Your court awaits.”
And with one last glance down the length of me, my husband opened the study door and led me out into the beginning of our forever.