Chapter 1
Early June
"Sweetheart, wake up," Oliver whispered in my ear.
I yawned, straightening my leather seat. We were flying home from St. Croix after three glorious days in the sun and sand. Everything had checked out perfectly with our new home, built to Oliver's exact specifications, along with a few surprises. I decided not to visit Fox Island again until our wedding in five weeks. I could hardly believe it was so soon.
"We have to spend some time going over the returned invitations," I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"I thought you said the deadline for responses wasn’t until the end of June?" Oliver asked, glancing at me curiously.
"It’s not, but for heaven’s sake, we sent out five hundred forty invitations. I have at least half that many still unopened. I don’t even know if they’re all attending. Some might have declined."
"I doubt it," he said confidently.
"Why would you say that?" I asked, turning to face him.
"Because people are curious about how the rich live. My business associates would never say no. They’d be too afraid I wouldn’t do business with them again."
"Seriously? That’s ridiculous. People have lives outside of our wedding," I retorted, shaking my head.
"But this is the wedding," he said with a smug grin.
"Arrogant asshole," I muttered under my breath.
"You’re saying that way too much lately," Oliver remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because it’s true. What’s wrong with you?" I challenged.
I had to admit he was right. My soon-to-be husband at times would let his arrogance leak out not only in business but the bedroom. I had to voice my opinion to take him down a few pegs and it was so much fun to see his expression when I did.
"I’m excited. In five weeks, you’ll be Mrs. Ryleigh Fox," he said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"We’re practically married. We live and work together. Except for your trips, we’re attached at the hip," I pointed out, trying to suppress a smile.
Oliver chuckled. "That rhymes."
"And it’s true. We spend a lot of time together," I said, emphasizing each word.
"Is that a problem?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious.
I scratched at a bit of peeling skin on my arm, thinking back to the relaxing days on the beach with my bodyguards, Brenda and Raquel. It felt like we were just three girlfriends enjoying the sand and ocean, guns in shoulder holsters notwithstanding.
I shook my head. "No. I like spending time with you," I admitted softly.
"I hope you love spending time with me because our marriage is forever," Oliver said, his voice filled with emotion.
"I do love spending time with you, but sometimes you smother me," I confessed, looking him in the eye.
He furrowed his brow. "It’s because I love you so much. I only want what’s best for you," he said earnestly.
"Thanks, Dad," I teased, rolling my eyes.
"Thanks for making me feel old," he replied with a mock pout.
Oliver was anything but old. He tired me out and could still keep going long after I was ready to pass out. I loved his energy.
"You’re not old, you’re experienced," I said, reaching up to touch the light scruff on his handsome face.
Oliver leaned in and kissed the top of my head. "Would you like to enjoy some of that experience when we get home?" he murmured.
I felt heat creep into my face as I glanced around the private plane at our security team. Thankfully, Vlad, Brenda, and Raquel weren’t paying attention to us.
"Shush, we can talk about it later," I whispered.
"You’re blushing. Are you embarrassed?" Oliver asked with a grin.
"No. I’m fine," I said quickly, trying to hide my flushed cheeks.
The captain’s voice came over the intercom, announcing our imminent landing. I inwardly groaned at the thought of returning to work tomorrow. Even though I worked for Oliver, the tedium of office life loomed ahead.
Oliver grinned, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Back to reality," he said, squeezing my hand.
"Yeah, back to reality," I echoed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension for the weeks to come.
“I wish we didn’t need to work tomorrow,” I said, looking across the table at Oliver.
Oliver glanced up from his plate of spaghetti with a smirk. “Getting lazy on me already?”
I couldn’t deny that our short vacation had made me a bit lazy. I longed to be back on the beach, soaking up the sun and enjoying the surf. But that wasn’t really me. I didn’t mind the office, especially since I was learning so much from Oliver.
“No, not at all. You know better,” I replied, giving him a pointed look.
“I do. You’re my most talented protégé,” he said, his eyes twinkling with pride.
“You’re just saying that because I’ll be your wife soon,” I teased, twirling my fork in my pasta.
“I wouldn’t lie. You’re eager and intelligent. I’ve never had someone I mentored learn so fast,” he said earnestly.
“Is that what I am to you? Your student?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hardly. You’re my partner. I’m so sure of that, I’ve instructed my legal counsel to give you power of attorney should anything happen to me.”
I set down my glass of red wine, looking at him in horror. “You think I would want to take your place if anything happened to you? I would be devastated.”
“You would get over it, and it doesn’t mean I’m dead. Suppose I’m incapacitated?” he said, shrugging.
“And how would that happen?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“I don’t know. You want me to get gruesome?” he replied with a grimace.
“Not really. I don’t even like the idea of discussing it,” I said, shaking my head.
“I trust you, and Henri is well aware he would need to assist you. Everyone is on board, though some of my executives feel you aren’t as experienced as they’d like to run the company,” he explained.
I frowned. I hoped it never happened. Oliver must be crazy if he thought I was capable of running his company on my own. I’d absorbed so much since I started working for him, but I had nowhere near his knowledge.
“It doesn’t matter. It won’t be necessary. I see you living a long and happy life with me by your side,” I said confidently.
“You’re clairvoyant now?” he teased.
“I just know. Now finish dinner so we can relax,” I urged, smiling.
Oliver dug into his bowl of spaghetti, twirling his fork before taking a bite. I sipped my wine, my appetite gone. Traveling always seemed to do that to me. I picked up my bowl and dumped the rest of the pasta into the garbage before washing it.
“You’re finished?” he asked, looking at me curiously.
“I’m not hungry,” I replied, rinsing the bowl.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, his concern evident.
“Fine. Just not in the mood to eat,” I said, waving it off.
Oliver snorted. “I’m willing to bet that by midnight you’ll have your head in the refrigerator looking for something to snack on.”
“Not if you keep me occupied,” I said with a sly smile.
“I’m sure I can figure something out,” he replied, his eyes gleaming.
I loosened the sash on my short pink satin robe, letting it fall open. Oliver paused mid-bite, his eyes roaming over my body.
“Do you want something now?” he asked, his voice a little huskier.
“No. I was just giving you a preview,” I said with a wink.
“I had a preview in the shower,” he reminded me.
He did when I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, doing what he rarely let me. Oliver was a giver, but I liked having his cock between my lips. His taste and masculine scent excited me.
I yawned. “I’m going to lie in bed. I’ll meet you there.”
Oliver quickly shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth and got up from the breakfast bar, taking his bowl to the sink. As I walked out of the kitchen, our dog, Trouble, trotted behind me and hopped on the bed when I slipped under the sheets. He jumped off when he heard Oliver coming down the hall, snuggling up in his bed by the closet.
Oliver appeared at the door, his expression unreadable. "He was on the bed, wasn't he?"
I looked up, meeting his gaze. "So? What's the problem?"
He stepped into the room, his brows furrowing. "Because I don't want him to get used to the idea of sleeping on beds."
"He's sleeping on a bed, his bed," I replied, my tone sharp. "I already told you, if you didn't go away so much, I wouldn't have him on the bed."
Oliver sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And I've apologized about that. I can't stop business," he paused, raising his brows at me, "unless you want me to sell everything."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "If you did, how long would it last before you went stir crazy?"
He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I wouldn't. We'd move to Fox Island and spend the rest of our lives there."
"Through hurricanes? I think not."
Oliver crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "The house is built to sustain winds of two hundred miles an hour. We're twenty feet in the air, so storm surge isn't a problem, besides being on a hill."
"But it's still an island. The entire place could be underwater. I wouldn't want to ride that out," I protested.
"Then we can buy a house somewhere in the mountains where no one knows us. The Adirondacks are beautiful. We could build a log cabin."
I snorted. "You without electronics? I'd like to see that."
"You will when we go on our honeymoon."
I raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in my voice. "I don't know how long you'll last."
"Longer than you with your social media posting. I see your Instagram and Facebook posts."
I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "I can survive without internet or anything else as long as I have your full attention."
"You will," he said softly, his voice sincere. "I'll give you my undivided attention."
I turned on my side, watching as Oliver removed his white t-shirt and black pajama pants, slipping into bed naked. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me.
"I love you, Ryleigh. So much that I would give my life for you."
I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I don't want that. I want you in my life."
"I'm just telling you how much you mean to me."
"And I'm telling you that I don't want to live without Oliver Fox in my life."
Oliver moved the hair away from my neck and tenderly kissed my skin, pressing his nose to me and inhaling deeply.
"You smell so good."
I smiled, feeling warmth spread through me. "So do you."
"Hush. I'm talking about you now."
He bit gently into the junction between my neck and shoulder, sucking the flesh into his mouth. His hand cupped my breast, the pad of his thumb brushing over my already peaked nipple. A dull throb of desire pulsed between my legs as my core clenched with need. His cock was hot and hard against my ass.
"You're so sexy," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "I could make love to you forever."
I laughed softly, feeling the heat between us. "I'll settle for now."
With a swift, gentle motion, Oliver moved away from me, pulling me onto my back and pushing the sheet off us. The anticipation built as he positioned himself between my legs, spreading them open with deliberate care. His fingers spread me, his thumb slicking through my wetness before slipping inside me.
A swipe of his tongue against my clit sent shivers up my spine. Another and another had me writhing on the bed, my body arching towards him. Oliver removed his thumb and curled his arms around my thighs, holding me down with his strong hands. He teased me with the tip of his tongue, flicking my swollen bud with maddening precision.
"I need to come," I begged, my fists clenching the sheet in desperation.
"Be patient," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I can't. I'm dying," I whimpered, my body trembling with need.
Oliver chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin as he assaulted my clit with his tongue. "You're not dying. I want this to last. You taste so good."
He pulled back, his teeth grazing my inner thighs before planting gentle kisses where his teeth had been. It was maddening, the way he built me up only to leave me hanging, but it wasn't unfamiliar. Oliver brought me to the edge and left me hanging twice more before finally letting me come.
The orgasm hit me hard, my belly clenching so tightly it hurt. I moaned his name, my voice raw with pleasure, as he licked through my release, only letting go when I went limp on the bed, completely spent.
"How was that?" Oliver asked, his voice a low rumble.
I didn’t answer immediately, throwing my arm over my eyes as my chest heaved.
"Ryleigh," he prompted.
"It was wonderful," I finally replied, my voice breathless.
"Are you okay?" His concern was evident.
"Yes. Why?"
"You're hiding your face."
I sighed. "I'm fine."
He reached out, gently pulling my arm away from my face. "I'd like to fuck slowly tonight. I want it to last, and I want you in my arms."
I tipped my head up to look at him, curiosity piqued. "How?"
Oliver moved into position, crawling up the bed and pushing the pillows out of the way. He leaned against the padded headboard, his cock standing proudly, glistening with precum. He opened his arms for me.
I sat up, and he pulled me onto his lap, his penis sandwiched between his belly and my hip. "Sit on me and take it slow. I want you to feel every inch of me."
I straddled him, positioning myself before sinking down, taking him in bit by bit. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he entered me, staying there until I fully engulfed him.
"Shit, you feel so fucking good," he groaned.
"I'm staying like this," I murmured, savoring the fullness.
"Fine with me," he replied, his voice a mix of pleasure and restraint.
Oliver wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my head in his neck, licking and sucking his earlobe. He began to move his hips, slowly rocking back and forth. I did my part by squeezing my walls around him, making him hiss with pleasure.
His hands roamed my back, holding me close as we moved together. "Ryleigh, I need you to know how much you mean to me," he whispered.
I lifted my head, our eyes locking. "I do, Oliver. I feel it every time we're together."
Oliver's breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, "I can’t wait for you to be Mrs. Fox."
"It's not far off," I panted, my voice trembling.
“It’s too far off as far as I’m concerned,” he murmured, his hands tightening around my hips.
"Do you want to elope?" I teased, gasping as he moved inside me.
Oliver paused, pushing me back gently to look into my eyes. "Would you do it if I asked?"
"You would ask me that while you're inside me!" I laughed breathlessly, my heart pounding.
"Would you, Ryleigh?" His gaze was intense, searching.
"You have me at a disadvantage," I said, trying to catch my breath. "My body is flooded with oxytocin. I’d say yes to anything right now."
His grin was wicked. "If I knew that, I would have suggested it sooner."
"We have five hundred forty invitations out there," I reminded him, struggling to keep my thoughts coherent. "Some of which have already said yes to our reception. You want to tell them we’re canceling?"
"No," he admitted, a sigh escaping his lips. "I can wait, even though I don’t want to."
With a swift, deliberate motion, Oliver grasped my hips and thrust upward, his root rubbing against my engorged clit.
"Fuck!" I howled, my body arching.
He repeated the movement, his lips crashing onto mine, bruising them with the intensity of his kiss. Then, breaking away, he licked his thumb and pressed it against my bud, rubbing hard. The world exploded as I climaxed, his name a cry on my lips. He followed, releasing an impressive, almost endless stream until he was spent.
Oliver cradled my body against his chest, planting soft kisses on my sweaty face. We stayed that way for several minutes, my heart still racing. I felt him grow hard again inside me.
“I don’t think I can go another round,” I said, my voice a tired whisper.
"I’ll do all the work," he promised, holding me tightly and rocking. His skillful movements elicited one final, shuddering orgasm from me before I was completely spent. After he came, he gently moved me off him and slipped out of bed.
When I felt him scoop me up, I mumbled against his chest, "No shower."
"I'm just going to clean you," Oliver whispered.
He lifted me effortlessly and placed me on the cool vanity. The chill of the stone seeped into my skin, making me shiver. I watched him move to the closet, retrieving a washcloth and wetting it under the faucet. His touch was gentle and soothing as he cleaned between my legs, the warm water contrasting with the cold surface beneath me.
When he was done, he quickly wiped himself before grabbing a towel to dry us both. My eyelids grew heavy, and I was half-asleep by the time he carried me back to bed.
"I love you, Oliver," I murmured, my voice barely audible as I drifted off.
"I love you too," he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart."