He slowly lowered me down onto him until he was an inch or two inside. I winced.


He’d been very energetic the night before. And that morning before breakfast.

“I’m good,” I sort of fibbed. Because I wanted him.

“Good.” He slammed me down the rest of the way and I yelped.

His eyes went concerned. I blew out a long breath and grabbed his shoulders. His eyes looked directly into mine. I melted at that look.

“You feel like the heaven I’ve been waiting for.”

He was in limbo for two hundred years. I had spent the last year having bad dreams. I felt, deep inside, like that was now changing. I was going to do my best to be his heaven until he really got to go there. And I knew right there, Holden deep inside me and looking at me with so much pure devotion in his eyes that because I would keep our secret, he would be the best dream come true.

I chewed my lip, and then replied, “You feel like a dream come true. The good kind of dream. But I am shy, Holden; I can’t help it. You’ve been my first and…only.”

“I know,” he murmured, lust flaring in his eyes. “And in fact, I quite like that about you. It’s endearing. And it’ll only ever be me, sweetheart.”

Sex on a kitchen chair with me riding Holden Holloway, my feet dangling, my toes curling – was amazing. I’d come to learn that sex with Holden anywhere would be amazing.


“First stop, a church so we can arrange to be married,” he told me, as we walked hand-in-hand down the main street of Drowsy Hollow. It was a small town and I got helloes from most of the people who passed us because some knew me and the rest because it was such a small and friendly community.

We’d just spent twenty minutes in my car in the countryside where I’d shown him the driving basics. He took to it like a natural and drove us back to the apartment with the ease and skill of an experienced driver. His paperwork included identification, including a driver’s license, which I found alarming. I decided I’d order him a driver’s handbook online so he could read it and study all the rules. Now, we were having a stroll as I showed him around.

Holden got curious looks from many. He greeted everyone with a smile and a hello or good day as we made our way down the sidewalk. He stared with ardent interest at a greyhound bus that went by and then even more at a motorcycle.

“I’ll want one of those, too. Later,” he said, gesturing to the motorcycle. “And a boat.”

I giggled. Boys and their toys.

He squeezed my hand affectionately. “After the church, the bank to withdraw money to go to a car merchant.” He kissed my temple. “And a diamond for your finger. Does this village have a jeweler?”

“Absolutely on the car. But I don’t need—”

“Yes, little kitty cat. You do. A big diamond.”

I smiled. “Okay.”


The local church was booked for weddings for the upcoming eight Saturdays, so I suggested a city hall wedding.

“Wherever will make it so that I can legally call you mine works for me,” he told me.


The pretty bank teller flirted shamelessly with Holden despite me standing right there. Yes, he was that dreamy. Tall. Strong-looking. Ruggedly handsome. And then when she keyed some things into the computer after he put his bank card into the machine (I showed him the paper with his PIN number), she went pink-faced and got even more flirtatious. I wasn’t surprised she got like that after seeing what was in his account. His bank account had $1.7 million in it according to the documentation I’d seen that morning. That wasn’t including his assets. That was just cash sitting there earning interest.

“My fiancée needs to have access to everything,” he told her sternly, looking like he was annoyed with her flirting. She was leaned forward at the counter, balancing on her elbows, which pushed her boobs together and gave him an eyeful of cleavage spilling out her baby pink cashmere sweater set.

Her eyes swept over me with disappointment. “I’ll check if the manager can see you. One moment, please.”

She sashayed away. My eyes were on her butt. I looked to Holden’s and his weren’t. They were on me. Bonus points for him.

The bank manager was a little old man that looked like he was ten years past retirement age. He arranged for me to be added to Holden’s accounts. He raised a brow at the fact that Holden didn’t want to have his signature on my withdrawals.

“No limitations?” the bank manager tried to confirm.


“Meaning she can clean out the account and we wouldn’t even notify you?”

“Meaning that, yes.” Holden certainly spoke as if he knew what he was doing.

Do Not Sell My Personal Information