Page 137 of When He Was Mine
“We’ll see,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Uh huh,” I replied, buttoning up my blouse.
Rain started to pelt against the patio window, and I glanced outside. “Shit, I thought we could beat it.”
“It’s no big deal. I have that golf umbrella,” Oliver said, unfazed.
“I hate rain,” I muttered, already dreading the short walk from the limo to the office.
“We might get some on our honeymoon,” he pointed out.
“I hope just a little. I plan to bake until my skin is golden,” I said, daydreaming about the sun-soaked beaches of Fox Island.
“That’s if I let you out of the bedroom,” he said, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Maybe for the first couple of days,” I teased, enjoying the way his gaze traveled over me.
“Or the entire honeymoon,” he countered, pulling me into a kiss that left me breathless.
I rolled my eyes as I brushed past Oliver. He gave my ass a small smack, making me gasp. It was humid, so I decided to put my mahogany hair into a ponytail. As I did, Oliver came over and kissed the back of my neck, showering it with soft kisses.
“Knock it off, Fox. I’m dressed,” I said, trying to sound stern.
“And you can get redressed,” he murmured against my skin.
“No, I’ll stay dressed. You’ll just have to wait until you get home on Friday night,” I replied, smirking.
“I should’ve made love to you all night,” he lamented, his voice a low rumble.
“After the first time, you fell asleep. How much sleep did you get on the plane coming home?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I didn’t,” he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
“No wonder you were so exhausted,” I said, shaking my head.
I turned to face him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He gently tugged my ponytail, licking my lips before moving down to kiss my throat. I felt a shiver of desire but held firm.
“I’m not tired now,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.
“Friday,” I insisted, pushing him away gently.
He stood up straight, locking eyes with me. “You’re seriously making me wait?”
“Yes. It’s punishment for leaving me so much,” I said, trying to sound resolute.
He chuckled, his eyes darkening with amusement. “You’re also punishing yourself.”
“I can get myself off or use my vibrator,” I retorted defiantly.
“No, you can’t,” he said, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I hid your vibrator. Nothing other than your fingers and me is getting you off. I much prefer you don’t get off at all while I’m gone,” he said smugly.
“If you want to suffer and not jerk off, fine. But if I want to get off, I will,” I shot back.
“Suit yourself, but you know it can’t compare to what I can do,” he said, his confidence infuriating.
