The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

As if either of them could deny how much they both wanted this right now. “Have you been tested lately?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m clear.”

“Me too.”

He kissed her, rolling them over so she was underneath him again and then pulled back, looking down at her as if he were seeing her for the very first time. “What is it about you that makes this so fucking perfect?”

“The fact that I’m not.” The words that she would have fought to her last breath to never utter out loud came freely, and it was like the last of that weight she’d been carrying since her dad’s suicide melted away.

Will dipped his head and gave her another kiss. “Neither am I.” He slid into her, filling her completely. “Damn, Hadley. I just—”

Whatever he was going to say next was lost to his sharp intake of breath when he started to move. That was okay; it wasn’t like her brain was processing anything but the feel of him as he withdrew and thrust forward, each stroke taking her higher. Later, they’d have all the time in the world to talk. Tonight was for showing herself that everything had changed—she’d changed—and there was no going back.

…

Will had to hold himself perfectly still. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He’d be shocked if his heart was still beating. He was lost in Hadley and had never felt more found. Then she moved her hips, the world came back into focus, he sucked in a needy breath, and his pulse beat in his ears. That certainty, though? It didn’t go away, just became stronger with each stroke.

“You feel so good,” he said, reaching down and cupping her ass so he could lift her and change the angle, driving deeper. “Fuck.”

“Oh my God, do that again.”

She only had to ask. Whatever she wanted, he’d give. Withdrawing almost fully, he waited a beat before pushing forward, his hard length sliding into her, rubbing against all the sensitive nerves bundled just inside her opening. Again and again, he thrust deep into her hot, tight core. His eyes rolled back with pleasure as pressure began building in his spine. Her hips met his every move, her words made incoherent by lust.

“Hadley.” Her name came out in a strangled groan.

He couldn’t hold on much longer. Settling back so he was on his knees, the hard coils of the pullout couch’s mattress bending under his weight, he lifted her up so only her shoulders were on the bed. Holding her hips, he fucked her, watching as her tits bounced with each thrust and mesmerized by each lusty moan and desperate demand for more coming from her. Fuck. He was so close, dancing on the edge, but he couldn’t come yet.

“Don’t stop,” she said as she reached down and slid her fingers between her swollen, glistening folds, circling her clit.

Like there was any chance of that. Her fingers moved so quickly, her core getting tighter and tighter around his cock until her whole body tensed as she came around his dick with a cry. His balls tightened and he buried himself to the hilt and came so hard, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever come down from the high.

Chest heaving, he rolled onto his back, wrapped a hand around Hadley’s waist, and pulled her close. He was fucking floating right here with her on a pullout couch in a half-renovated cabin in the middle of nowhere. At absolutely no time in his life had he ever felt more at home.

“I’ll be right back.” She slipped off the mattress and headed toward the bathroom.

As he lay there watching his future walk down the hallway, he had never been so relieved that his usually 100-percent-correct instincts about someone’s ulterior motives had been completely off when it came to Hadley Donavan.

Chapter Eighteen

Hadley woke up the next morning with a smile on her face and a note on the pillow where Will’s head should have been.

Hated to leave you when you were still snoring, but I had to go take care of some cowboy things. Counting down until I can see you at the barn later.

XOXO,

W

Okay, if someone had laid a cool billion in front of her and asked her all she had to do to keep it was say whether Will Holt was an Xs and Os kind of guy, she wouldn’t have hesitated. The “no” would have been out on the next breath. The reality—again—was far different from what she’d always figured. Damn, had she been wrong about that man.

Just how wrong was pretty much all she thought about in the shower as she got ready for the day’s pre-wedding family togetherness. Okay, she had about a million personal mental viewings of everything that had happened last night, too. What could she say, when everything finally started to fall into place with the hottest guy she’d ever counted as her worst nemesis, it was pretty impossible not to bask in it.

By the time she walked into the old barn fully decorated for the wedding reception the next day, her cheeks had started to hurt from smiling so much. Luckily, everyone in the barn was grinning, too—weddings had a way of doing that to people. Everyone was gathered up by the dais where the bride and groom would sit along with the bridal party during the reception. There were old-fashioned soft-glow light bulbs hanging from the rafters; delicate hand-folded paper birds sat on all the place settings, each one a unique piece of art; and then there were the bright prairie wildflowers already in mason jars etched with the date in the center of each table. It really was an Instagramable scene: the old and the new wedded together into something that was all about new beginnings.

Or maybe it was just that Hadley was still on a post-coital high, but she doubted it. Everything was just about as close to perfect as possible—including the fact that the guy with hair that was aggressively slicked back into a nearly impossibly short ponytail had to be Adalyn’s fiancé, Derek. Breathing a sigh of relief for her sister—and still feeling more than a little floaty—Hadley joined everyone.

“It looks amazing,” she said, giving her sister a hug and then turning to Derek and holding out her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Hadley.”

His hand was damp as he shook hers. “Yeah, work’s been crazy.”