Chapter 6
I couldn’t sit still. My excitement buzzed under my skin, making it impossible to focus on the magazine article in my lap. Any minute now, my friends would arrive, and the anticipation was driving me mad.
Across the room, Oliver sat on the couch, sipping brandy and bouncing his knee—a telltale sign of his growing nerves. I noticed he had been drinking more lately, and I hoped it wasn’t because of me. He always got anxious when I went out, but Trevor and Brenda would be with us tonight.
"When will Wilmer and Ivan be here?" I asked, trying to break the silence.
"After you leave," he replied, his voice calm but his eyes betraying his unease.
"What are you doing tonight?" I probed further, hoping to distract him from his worries.
"Heading to Zapata to play a few rounds of pool," he said, taking another sip of his drink.
I smirked, teasing him. "Let me guess, you own that too?"
He chuckled. "Half of it—Jordan Grayson owns the other."
"And another piece of the puzzle falls into place," I said, shaking my head in amusement.
"Puzzle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"How many collaborations do you have with other companies?"
"A lot. It's good business to work with others. Jordan is an upstanding guy. We should go out to dinner with him and his wife, Emma. I think you'll get along well with her."
"Why?" I asked, curious.
"Why should we go out or why would you get along with Emma?" he clarified.
"Why would I get along with Emma?"
He took another sip of his drink. "Because you have the same type of thinking. Strong and independent with a touch of fire."
I grinned, feeling a spark of intrigue. "Touch of fire, huh?"
"Come here," he said, his voice low and inviting.
I slid over to him, adjusting my form-fitting black dress as it rode up to reveal my black lace thong.
"I hope that’s not going to happen in the club," he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire.
"Don't worry," I whispered, leaning in close. "No one will see my goodies but you."
His hand slid up my thigh, sending shivers through me and I pulled away reluctantly, smoothing my dress back down. We didn’t have sex last night or today because Oliver was exhausted from an intense negotiation for a piece of property in Palm Springs. He wanted to build a Diamond Square Resort. So, he was fired up but so was I.
“Behave,” I demanded.
He groaned. “I can’t. I should have fucked you in the shower.”
“You were still on the phone when I went in.”
He reached for me again, but I backed away. “I mean I should’ve pulled you in when I went.”
“I already did my hair.”
“Please?” he begged.
I loved to bring him to his knees, but this wasn’t the appropriate time to roll around the bed. There was no time.
“Oliver, my friends will be here in a few minutes,” I protested.
“I won’t last until you get home.”
“I doubt I’ll have energy when I get home. Even if I did, we’ll have to be quiet since the guest rooms will be occupied.”
Oliver groaned and shifted his position when my cell buzzed.
I swiped the screen to see who it was. “They’re downstairs. Think of something horrible because I doubt it would be appropriate for them to see your erection.”
Oliver looked down at his cock pressing against his black jeans. He closed his eyes as I stood up and called the lobby to tell them to let my friends up to the penthouse. Oliver stood up and adjusted his pants as his erection subsided. He straightened his gray sweater and downed the rest of his brandy, taking the glass to the kitchen.
I waited eagerly by the door, my heart pounding with excitement, until the knock came. Without hesitation, I yanked it open to reveal all three of my friends standing there, each with small suitcases in tow.
Benny, tall and thin with unruly blond hair and bright blue eyes, grinned as he took in the penthouse. Lisa stood beside him, her black hair a stark contrast to his, her porcelain skin glowing in the soft light. Diana, closer to my coloring with her auburn hair, smiled warmly at me.
"Damn, this place is awesome," Benny whistled as he looked around.
We hugged tightly, the energy between us palpable. As I let go, I introduced them to Oliver, who greeted them with a million-dollar smile that I knew was already winning them over.
"Glad to meet some of Ryleigh’s friends. Can I show you to your rooms?" Oliver offered politely.
We followed him down the hall to the guest rooms, arranging who would stay where. Diana would be closest to the primary, while Lisa and Benny would be next to Oliver’s office. After dropping off their bags, we showed them the hall bathroom, stocked with fluffy white towels.
"Want a tour?" I suggested as we regrouped in the hallway.
They all agreed eagerly, and Oliver excused himself with a quick call on his cell. I led my friends to the patio, where the city lights twinkled below us.
"Damn, Ryleigh, you really scored with Oliver," Diana remarked, her eyes wide with awe.
"I don’t care about the surroundings, just Oliver," I replied, smiling at the thought of him.
"You've got to admit it’s a great perk," Lisa chimed in.
"Yes, it is. I love this place, so spacious," I agreed.
"What about your apartment?" Benny asked, curious.
"It’s sitting vacant. Sadie is living with Finley," I explained.
"Excuse me," Lisa interrupted. "Is that the same workaholic Finley who has no time for a social life?"
"Apparently, he has time for Sadie, and I’m happy for them," I replied, feeling genuinely pleased for my brother and best friend.
After the quick tour, we settled on the couch to catch up.
"How’s work?" Lisa asked, breaking the silence.
"It’s good though my boss can be a hard ass," I joked.
"I heard that," Oliver's voice floated down the hall, and we turned to see him approaching.
"You were supposed to. Everything all right?" I asked, concern flashing in my eyes.
"Just a call from my attorney. Everything is fine. Can I offer anyone a drink?" Oliver offered, his voice casual and reassuring.
"I think we can wait until we get to the club since the owner has so graciously offered free drinks as well as entry," Benny replied with a grin.
"He’s a good guy, isn’t he?" Lisa chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"I think so," I agreed, a warm feeling spreading through me.
Oliver settled himself next to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders in a comforting gesture.
"You’re all dressed very nicely," he observed, his eyes lingering appreciatively on each of us.
Diana's dress, a deep blue shade, mirrored mine, while Lisa looked chic in a black skirt and sleeveless burgundy blouse. Benny's black dress shirt and dark blue jeans completed the ensemble, perfect for a night out.
I couldn't help but smile at the thought of dancing with my friends, knowing that by the end of the night, my makeup would be smudged and my hair tousled, but right now, I felt confident and ready for whatever the evening had in store.
"Show Me Yours" was an experience unlike any other. The ambiance was both seductive and sophisticated, with soft blues and beiges adorning the space. As we entered, my eyes widened at the sight of the staff. The hostess, in a skimpy light blue dress, seemed conservative compared to the waitresses, who wore black leather micro skirts and halter tops that left little to the imagination.
The waiters, clad in skin-hugging leather pants with no shirts, exuded confidence and allure. It was as if every person I laid eyes on was sculpted from marble, beautiful and well-muscled.
The pulsating beats of Nathaniel Heaton, the renowned DJ, filled the air as he worked his magic behind the turntables. Lights danced across the high ceilings, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the packed dance floor.
Trevor and Brenda led us to the VIP area, where a private space awaited us with bottle service. I settled onto the beige banquette, tucking my purse beside me, as a tall blonde waitress swiftly took our drink orders.
Usually a wine enthusiast, tonight I opted for something stronger and ordered rum and Coke. Lisa, Benny, and Diana stuck with beer as we settled in, soaking in the electrifying atmosphere. Halfway through my drink, the urge to dance became irresistible. Trevor joined us on the dance floor, while Brenda stayed behind to keep an eye on our belongings.
Surrounded by my friends, I felt a surge of happiness as we claimed our spot on the dance floor. Despite the chill of October lingering outside, the air conditioning inside barely kept up with the heat generated by the crowd. Sweat glistened on my skin as I moved to the rhythm of the music, my loose hair clinging to me.
Trevor, ever vigilant, subtly positioned himself nearby, ready to intervene if needed. When a man bumped into me, Trevor quickly stepped in, creating a barrier between me and the intruder. Undeterred, I continued to dance until I was drenched in sweat. Gesturing to my friends, we made our way upstairs.
Upstairs, a pitcher of ice water awaited us, a welcome relief from the heat of the dance floor. When the waitress returned to take our drink orders, I ordered another rum and Coke, while my friends opted for water.
Sipping my drink, I couldn't shake the feeling that Oliver was keeping an eye on me, ensuring I didn't overindulge. It should have bothered me, his interference, but instead, it comforted me to know he cared so deeply.
“Are you having a good time?” Benny asked.
“Awesome. I’m so glad you could come.”
He hugged me tightly, planting a kiss on my cheek. Benny and I had known each other since elementary school, when he moved to Hudson Brook in fifth grade. We’d been friends ever since, and I considered him one of my best friends.
Clinging to his sweaty shirt, I hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort in his embrace. When I let go, I turned as Brenda tapped me on the shoulder, holding out her phone. I frowned as I took it from her hand and put it to my ear.
“Yes?” I answered, curious about the unexpected call.
“Come downstairs,” Oliver growled, his voice low and commanding.
“Downstairs where?” I questioned, puzzled by his request.
“Below the VIP deck is a hidden door near the stairs. Let Trevor escort you,” he instructed firmly.
“What’s your problem?” I couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance at his tone.
“Humor me, Ryleigh,” Oliver insisted, his voice stern.
Reluctantly, I handed the phone back to Brenda and glanced at Trevor, who nodded in confirmation. It seemed Oliver had given him advance notice of his request. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of my friends, I told them I had to check with club security. If I said I needed the bathroom, Lisa and Diane might want to join me.
Trevor led me down the stairs, and I felt the curious gazes of several people as I descended. The panel under the stairs popped open, and I was pulled into a darkened room before the door shut behind me. In the dim light, I could make out Oliver’s silhouette and catch the familiar scent of his cologne. He wrapped his arms around me, latching onto my neck and leaving a trail of kisses.
“Oliver, what are you doing here?” I whispered, feeling a mix of surprise and desire.
“I’m going crazy thinking about you,” he confessed, his breath hot against my skin.
“Are you sure it wasn’t because another man had his hands on me?” I teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.
“Who touched you?” Oliver’s voice was suddenly tense, and I realized he was serious.
“Benny hugged me, and you called a few seconds later. There’s nothing between us.” I reassured him, feeling a pang of guilt for unintentionally causing him distress.
“I know that. I’m not jealous,” Oliver admitted. “But I spent the last two hours with my dick as hard as steel. I need you.”
“I’m a mess. I need a shower,” I protested weakly, feeling torn between desire and practicality.
“I don’t care. I want you,” Oliver insisted, his voice husky with desire.
He moved, slowly pressing me against the wall.
“What is this place?” I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity as Oliver's hands roamed over my body.
“It’s my personal office. No one except Jordan comes in here,” he explained, his tone possessive.
I felt sweaty and disheveled from dancing, and I tried to push his hands away as he lifted my dress and slid his hands between my thighs. Despite my protests, I could feel the dampness of my panties, a clear indication of my arousal.
“Stop fighting me, Ryleigh,” Oliver commanded, his voice firm but tinged with desire.
“I’m disgusting,” I protested weakly, feeling self-conscious about my sweaty state.
“I don’t care. You’re sexy to me no matter what,” he reassured me, his hands now roughly cupping my breasts.
With his touch igniting a fire within me, I yielded to him, allowing him to pull my dress up over my hips. Our lips met in a fervent kiss, and I ran my fingers through his hair as he explored me with his fingers, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. When his thumb found my clit, I couldn't contain the pleasure, whimpering into his mouth as I climaxed.
So responsive tonight,” Oliver murmured.
“It’s been two days,” I confessed, feeling a flush of embarrassment at my lack of control.
“You want me as badly as I want you. I want to hear you scream the next time I make you come,” he whispered, his breath feathering against my ear.
“But people will hear,” I protested, suddenly conscious of our surroundings.
“The music is so loud, and this room is almost soundproof,” he reassured me, his lips trailing kisses down my neck.
I hadn’t realized it before, but the music was barely audible in our secluded spot. Lost in the moment, I hadn’t paid attention to anything but Oliver and the pleasure he was giving me.
With newfound confidence, I reached down and undid his belt, opening his zipper and stroking his cock.
“How long have you been like this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my desire for him overwhelming any sense of inhibition.
“Two hours. You should’ve let me make love to you before your friends arrived,” Oliver confessed, his voice filled with longing.
“We would’ve had two minutes,” I countered, a hint of regret in my tone.
“It would have been enough to take the edge off until we got home tonight,” he reasoned, his desire evident in his words.
“Oliver, you don’t make love quickly. It’s not in your DNA,” I pointed out, smiling at his eagerness.
“I was so turned on by you. This little sexy dress clinging to every beautiful curve on your body,” he admitted, his voice husky with desire.
I felt a rush of warmth at his words, grateful for the way he saw me. Despite the constraints of time and circumstance, the intensity of our connection remained unwavering, and I knew that our passion would only grow stronger as the night progressed.
I stroked him more vigorously as he latched onto my ear and took the diamond stud I had on my lobe into his mouth as he sucked. He moaned against me, making me even hotter. The orgasm I experienced a few minutes ago did nothing to calm me. My nipples strained against the cloth of my dress in hard peaks.
“Slow down or I’ll come,” he growled.
“That’s the point,” I muttered.
“I want to come inside you. I’ve been thinking about your hot little pussy all night. It’s the only way.”
“Unless I make you come with my mouth,” I whispered.
Oliver groaned. “Another time.”
He pushed my hand away, reaching into his pocket to retrieve something. I heard a tear of paper.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A condom. There’s no proper place to clean up here.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a private bathroom in here.”
I helped him peel his underwear down and the latex made a noise as he rolled it on. He pulled my dress over my head and expertly reached back to unclasp my damp bra before he knelt to remove my panties. I slid out of my shoes so he could take them off.
“Put the shoes back on,” he requested.
“Why am I naked and you’re still dressed?”
“Do you want to argue, or do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.
“I want to feel your skin against mine.”
He backed away as I slipped on my four-inch heels. I saw him move in front of me and heard the whisper of his sweater coming off and the jingle of change as his jeans came down. Oliver reached for my hand, placing it against his bare chest.
“Happy?”
“Very,” I said, stroking his muscles. “I love feeling you like this.”
He lifted me in his arms, pressing me against the smooth wall and cupping my ass with his hands. I felt his cock pressed at my entrance and he let me down slowly. I hooked my ankles around his waist and wrapped my arms around his neck as I engulfed him.
“You feel so fucking good,” I moaned.
“I love to be inside you. You’re so snug.”
Oliver tightened his embrace, thrusting in and out so that I slid up the wall with each stroke. The muscles in his shoulders strained as his respirations grew heavy. He moved away, letting me down.
“What are you doing?” I protested at the loss of him inside me.
He led me to a couch which I could barely see. “On all fours,” he demanded.
I felt around as I hunted for the cushions then moved into place and he slipped back into me, grasping my hips hard and shoving deep inside my slick channel.
“Oh God, Oliver, I’m going to come,” I moaned, feeling the heat building inside me.
“Scream,” he urged, his voice laced with desire.
“I can’t,” I admitted, my breath hitching with anticipation.
With a sudden motion, he pulled out of me, leaving me teetering on the brink of ecstasy.
“Fuck me,” I begged, my voice raw with need.
“Scream for me, Ryleigh. I know you want to,” Oliver insisted, his tone commanding.
“I can’t,” I protested, feeling frustration bubbling up within me.
“Then you don’t come,” he declared firmly.
I sighed in frustration, feeling the ache of desire pulsing through me. “Neither do you, then.”
“My will is stronger than yours,” he asserted confidently.
As I reached toward my own pleasure, Oliver grabbed my hand, holding it firmly in his grip.
“I need it,” I cried out desperately.
“Then do as I ask,” he replied, his voice softening slightly.
“Why, Oliver?” I questioned, feeling a mix of confusion and longing.
“I love to hear you scream when you come. I want to know I satisfy you,” he confessed, his words sending a shiver of arousal down my spine.
“You do. I don’t need to scream,” I insisted, my voice filled with conviction.
He slipped back inside me, and as he felt my body respond, he withdrew once more. “Please,” I pleaded, my body trembling with anticipation.
Oliver teased me relentlessly, each withdrawal leaving me on the edge of desperation. Tears welled in my eyes as I yearned for release, the ache of desire consuming me.
He withdrew one final time, moving us to the couch and pulling me onto his lap. As he discarded my shoes, I reached for the condom, desperate to feel him completely.
“No. I told you, there’s nowhere to clean up,” he reminded me, his tone firm but tender.
“I don’t care. I want nothing between us,” I declared, my voice filled with longing.
“You’re a dirty girl,” he teased, his words sending a thrill through me.
“I love you, Oliver. Make me come,” I pleaded, my heart pounding with desire.
Removing the condom, I rose onto my knees, positioning his shaft at my slick entrance before lowering myself onto him. As we rocked together, our bodies moved in perfect harmony, each sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
With a primal cry, I threw my head back as ecstasy washed over me, Oliver's arms the only thing keeping me grounded as I rode out the intensity of my climax. As I collapsed against him, spent and sated, I knew that in that moment, there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms.
“That was incredible,” I managed to mumble, still catching my breath.
“You’re incredible,” Oliver replied, his voice filled with admiration.
“I want to go home,” I stated, feeling a sudden desire for the comfort of our own space.
“You have guests,” he reminded me, a hint of reluctance in his tone.
“Can’t Trevor take them home? Speaking of guests, where are Ivan and Wilmer?” I inquired, curious about their whereabouts.
“I left them at Zapata with a complimentary bottle of Patron. They won’t miss me,” Oliver explained casually, his focus clearly on me.
“I want you again,” I confessed, unable to resist the pull of desire.
“That can be arranged,” he replied, his voice husky with anticipation.
Oliver latched onto my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and sucking gently.
“Stop it, I’m gross. I danced for almost an hour,” I protested weakly, feeling self-conscious about my sweaty state.
“You’re sexy and beautiful. I can’t resist you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.
“Seeing how your penis is still inside me, I believe that to be true,” I teased, a hint of amusement in my voice.
He held me close for a few more minutes, his touch gentle as he caressed the sweaty skin of my back. Eventually, he shrank and slipped out of me, and I climbed off him, feeling the warmth of his semen coating my inner thighs. With a flick of a small lamp attached to the wall above the couch, Oliver illuminated the dimly lit room, casting a soft glow over us.
“Now I’m really a mess,” I sighed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and exhaustion.
“I warned you. I have some wet wipes in the desk,” Oliver offered casually.
Turning towards the corner of the room, I spotted a large wooden desk with a computer sitting on it. I padded over and pulled open the middle drawer, finding a full package of wet wipes.
Popping open the top, I removed several wipes and began cleaning my thighs and between my legs. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to do for now. Depositing the used wipes in a small black plastic garbage can by his desk, I turned to see Oliver lounging on the couch, watching me with a relaxed expression.
“Aren’t you getting dressed?” I asked, feeling self-conscious under his gaze.
“I love the view,” he replied, his eyes lingering on me appreciatively.
“I’m a sweaty mess. I bet my mascara makes me look like a raccoon,” I grumbled, feeling insecure about my appearance.
“A sexy raccoon. I don’t care, sweetheart. I love you no matter what,” he assured me, his words melting away my insecurities.
Retrieving my panties and bra from the floor, I quickly slipped them on while Oliver lazily pulled on his boxers. We dressed in comfortable silence, and I wished there was a mirror in the room so I could check my hair.
“Ready?” Oliver asked once we were both dressed.
“I look like crap,” I admitted, feeling less than confident about my appearance.
“Nonsense. It doesn’t matter how you look; it matters how you feel,” he countered, his voice filled with warmth and affection.
“Fantastic with all the endorphins and alcohol running through my system,” I replied with a weak smile.
Oliver took my hand and led me out through the hidden door, reaching back to flick the lock and pushing the panel closed behind us. As we walked up the stairs to the VIP lounge, I noticed a few people staring at us curiously. My friends and Brenda and Trevor were waiting for us.
“Ryleigh doesn’t feel well,” Oliver lied smoothly.
“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked, concern evident in her voice.
“My stomach. I should’ve gone easy on the rum,” I improvised, hoping my friends would buy the excuse.
“We can go with you,” Brenda offered, her concern mirrored by Trevor.
“No, stay. The limo will be at your disposal as soon as it drops us off. Trevor and Brenda will take you home,” Oliver reassured them, his tone firm but kind.
“Are you sure?” Benny asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Positive. We can eat breakfast together tomorrow. Oliver is having his chef come at ten,” I added, hoping to put their minds at ease.
“Sounds awesome. Feel better,” Lisa said, her words echoed by Benny and Diane as they bid us farewell.
“Thank you,” I murmured gratefully as Oliver led me down the stairs to retrieve our coats.
“You made me lie to my friends,” I whispered, feeling a twinge of guilt.
“It will be well worth it, and it wasn’t a big lie. You’ll see them tomorrow morning,” Oliver reassured me, his tone gentle but firm.
“It is tomorrow morning,” I pointed out, glancing at my watch. It was just after midnight.
“Then this morning,” he amended with a playful grin.
Vlad was waiting with the limo at the curb, and I slipped on my wool coat as we exited the club.
“Take it off,” Oliver instructed as we slid inside.
“My coat?” I questioned, confused by his sudden request.
“I’ll settle for your coat right now,” he clarified, his eyes smoldering with desire.
With a coy smile, he shucked out of his coat, and I followed suit, depositing mine on the opposite seat as he had. Oliver wasted no time in seducing me with his tongue and hands as we drove towards the penthouse. By the time we arrived, he had me on the edge of combusting, my body throbbing with need.
“You must love having a chef at your disposal,” Benny remarked between bites of French toast, his mouth full.
“It’s nice, but we don’t call on him that much,” I replied, smiling at the memory of our leisurely brunches.
“If I had a chef, I would never do my own cooking,” Lisa chimed in.
“I like to cook,” I interjected, defending my culinary skills.
“And she does a good job,” Oliver added, his tone fond.
Lisa wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. “You must have gotten better since we were kids. Remember when you burned popcorn and had to throw out the pot because you couldn’t scrub it clean?”
“I was fourteen at the time. I’ve improved since then,” I retorted with a laugh, enjoying the banter with my friends.
After breakfast, we lounged around the living room, enjoying each other’s company. As my friends prepared to leave, Oliver arranged for Vlad to shuttle them home in the limo.
“We should do this again,” I suggested as they gathered their things, and they all agreed enthusiastically.
Still feeling lazy, I opened up the paper and rested my head on Oliver’s sweatpants-clad thigh while he stroked my hair tenderly.
“Thank you for last night,” I said softly, feeling a surge of affection for him.
“You mean this morning?” he teased, a playful twinkle in his eyes.
“That too,” I replied, smiling up at him.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, curiosity piqued by his unusually tender demeanor.
“You don’t know?” he replied, his gaze intense.
“No. Tell me,” I urged, sitting up to meet his eyes.
Christ, Ryleigh, it’s you. I crave you. Last night was just an example of my need,” he confessed, his words sending a shiver down my spine.
“Your love scares me sometimes. I’m afraid I might do something to break your heart,” I admitted, feeling vulnerable.
“I’m sure you won’t. I can feel how much you love me,” he reassured me, his touch gentle.
“I do, but we’re holding on so tightly to each other,” I confessed, feeling the weight of our connection.
“That shouldn’t scare you. It should make you happy that we’re bonded,” he insisted, his voice tender but firm.
“Are you mine today?” I asked, seeking reassurance.
“Yes. I have nothing going on, but I might receive a call from Carla Chan,” he replied, mentioning his attorney.
“Your attorney?” I inquired, curious about his schedule.
“She’s working on some contracts,” he explained.
“Does she ever sleep?” I joked.
“You’d have to ask her, but I suspect not,” he replied with a chuckle.
“She’s worse than you,” I teased.
“I thought no one was worse than me?” he quipped back.
“I haven’t met everyone at your company,” I countered playfully.
“You will eventually. I got in touch with Rigo Vicaria. You can make an appointment with him this week,” he informed me, referring to the wedding dress designer.
I nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness. With Oliver by my side, I felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
“I thought I was working with Rachel?” I questioned, a hint of confusion in my voice.
“Either one. They work together. I’m sure anything they design will be magnificent,” Oliver replied, his confidence unwavering.
“I have no doubt. Their designs are beautiful,” I admitted, feeling a surge of excitement for our upcoming wedding.
“Not compared to you,” he insisted, his gaze filled with adoration.
“What colors should we have for the wedding?” I asked, eager to involve him in the planning process.
“It’s your choice,” he replied, his tone indicating his willingness to support whatever decision I made.
“It’s our wedding. Shouldn’t you have a choice?” I pressed, wanting him to take an active role in the decision-making.
“I’ll go along with whatever you want,” he assured me, his words filled with sincerity.
“Black and blood red,” I suggested playfully, enjoying the banter.
“It’s a summer wedding. Those colors are too heavy for the time of year,” he countered, his practicality shining through.
“You see, you do have an opinion,” I teased, delighted by his engagement in the conversation.
“I guess. Pick something lighter,” he relented, allowing me to take the lead.
“I was thinking powder blue and sapphire, like your eyes,” I proposed, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“I think that’s a lovely combination,” he agreed, his hand reaching up to gently twirl a lock of my hair around his finger.
Oliver bent down to claim my lips in a tender kiss, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the sensation. As our lips met, I couldn’t help but wonder: would I ever stop feeling this way? With Oliver by my side, I knew one thing for sure – our love would only continue to grow stronger with each passing day.