Page 100 of Holiday Hopefuls
As if he’s trying to memorize every part of me.
Oliver nips along the shell of my ear while pressing his other hand flat onto my stomach to keep me still. Dipping one finger inside and then another, he stretches me as I climb higher with each pump of his fingers. “That’s it, baby. I know you’re ready. Let go.”
A ragged breath drags itself from my lungs when he hooks his fingers inside me, finding the perfect spot and triggering my release.
Oliver continues lavishing me with pleasure through my orgasm, shifting so that I’m laying beneath him when he finally pulls his fingers out of my body. He shifts to sit on his knees, greedy eyes taking me in.
A sated grin consuming my face, I loll my head toward the nightstand. Reaching out, I grab the packet, ripping it open. Turning hungry eyes to the man I love, I roll my lower lip between my teeth. “That was amazing. You’re amazing,” I sit up, taking Oliver in my hands and rolling the condom onto him, “but now I want all of you.”
He wastes no time as I lay back, positioning himself between my legs. Oliver shifts his weight to impressive forearms. Pressing a single kiss above my heart, his lust-filled gaze meets mine. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, Calloway Rutherford.”
Taking his face in my hands, I pull him up into a sloppy kiss as he pushes inside me.
Oliver’s tongue demands entrance, which I happily give him. All too soon, he breaks the kiss, panting. He nods above my head. “Grab the headboard,” he growls.
I immediately do as he says. Wrapping my fingers around the iron, I fold my legs around Oliver’s sculpted waist, securing him to me.
He begins to move, driving me wild. His hands drift over my body, learning every part of me.
Tenderly at first, then demanding.
And when he flips me over, holding my hips and driving deeper, I scream his name into the pillow while he bites at the curve of my neck. Only when I’ve come again does a string of profanities accompany my name, falling from his lips like an everlasting oath.
18
Oliver
It’s official—I never want to wake up without Calloway Rutherford draped across me ever again. Whether we stay in this moment forever, we’re married with kids or we’re old and gray, I want Callie by my side. I spend my working life listening to families spill their unhappiness about their situation so I can give them the tools to make a change for the better. People tell me about finding an ideal life and goals that they’ll spend a lifetime chasing.
My new life snores softly on my chest as the Christmas morning light shines through the curtains.
Checking the time on my phone, I can’t believe we haven’t heard Marigold running down the hall declaring it’s time to open gifts.
Maybe the soundproofing really is that good.
Judging from how loud we got last night, and the fact that no one came running, I guess it is.
Smirking to myself at the memories, I draw circles on Callie’s bare back while I check messages from my family. Mom’s eighteen pictures of Boston at Christmas and my grandma’s house decorated for the holiday remind me that I still need to wrap their gifts for when we have our holiday celebration after they return. Dad’s messages talk about some less than stellar meatloaf they ate for dinner the night before and how he’s out of antacids. Blythe sent a picture of a small Christmas tree next to a palm tree along with one of her and another girl in dresses on the beach, both flanked by guys in pants and Hawaiian shirts. Annoyingly, I don’t recognize the guy with his arm around my sister.
My neighbor, Cory, has sent me no less than twenty pictures of Nacho by his Christmas tree, having breakfast, being walked around the town square and enjoying countless treats.
Messages from John and Rindy also demand attention, letting me know they’re having lunch today in the restaurant of the main building of the hotel, and asking if we’d want to join them.
Callie’s hair tickles my chest as she stirs. Her eyes open, heavy with sleep as she looks around. Gaze landing on me, a lazy smile spreads across her face. “Good morning, Dr. Rhodes.”
Replacing my phone on the nightstand, I turn my full attention to the enchanting woman before me. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Rutherford.”
Those delicate ruby brows raise as she looks toward the balcony. “It’s Christmas morning.”
“Yep.”
“Hm,” Callie says, tapping her chin. Propping herself up on her elbows, her breasts graze my torso.
I shift so that my erection doesn’t make her uncomfortable. Clearly, I have nothing to worry about since Callie drags a foot up my leg before tossing her entire limb over my waist—all thewhile rubbing whatever part of her is closest along my hardened length.
“I don’t know about you,” she continues, “but I kinda feel like I got my gift last night.” Callie grins at me. “A few times.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Actually, I have something else for you, too,” I admit sheepishly.
