by Nina Lane
She shifts, wiggling back against me, settling her ass against my groin. I feel her start to wake before she turns to face me. She’s heavy-eyed, flushed with sleep.
“Oh, hi,” she whispers, rubbing her cheek against my shoulder. “I was trying to wait up for you. Did you get my voicemails? What happ—”
I press my mouth to hers, stopping her words. A little moan catches in her throat. She shifts to wind her arms around my neck, parting her lips under mine, letting me in, pulling me closer. I close my eyes and sink into her. Tension fades, replaced by the spark of lust that fires my blood.
I run my hands over Liv’s curves, tugging at the hem of her tank top, the waistband of her pants. Soft, she’s always so soft, so warm, even more so when she’s sleeping, as if she keeps an extra reserve of heat inside that only radiates from her when her defenses are down.
“How is it you’re always so warm?” I bury my face in her neck, pressing my lips against her collarbone.
“Because of you,” Liv murmurs, slipping her hands into my hair. “You drive away the cold and melt the ice. You’ve always made me bloom.”
My chest constricts. I want to drown myself in her sweet goodness. The heat of her burns off my own lingering cold. Her mouth opens, her teeth scraping my lower lip, her tongue sliding over mine. Lust jolts through me, welcome, familiar. I push my hips against her, wanting her to feel the growing ridge of my cock.
She makes a throaty noise that echoes inside me. Everything else breaks apart. There’s only her, only us, only the warmth of our bodies. I push my hands underneath her shirt, rubbing her smooth torso up to her full breasts.
She arches her back, pushing herself into my hands, her nipples hardening against my palms. I squeeze her breasts, stroke my fingers over the tight peaks, slide my hands into the hot crevice beneath them.
“Take my shirt off.” Liv pulls her mouth from mine, her eyes darkening to the color of cocoa.
I grab her shirt and pull it over her head. Urgency floods me at the sight of her naked breasts, her nipples like berries. I hook my fingers into her waistband and tug her pants off, tossing them to the floor. Then I just look at her—my beautiful wife with her rounded hips, the slopes of her shoulders and waist, the dark curls between her legs, the curve of her stomach, the arch of her neck.
I move lower on the bed, pushing the sheets aside, getting between her legs. My erection pulses against the loose material of my pants. I put my hands on Liv’s inner thighs, rubbing the tender flesh before easing her legs apart.
She sinks back against the pillows, watching me, her breathing quick and her face flushed with pleasure. She’s already hot. I ease one finger into her, my blood pulsing as she moans and closes her inner flesh around me.
So easy. It’s so easy with her. I know exactly what she likes, wants, needs. I circle my finger over her folds, rub the knot of her clit, push her legs farther apart before moving down to put my mouth on her.
“Dean!” She arches upward with a gasp.
I pause, inhale the scent of her, wait for her to settle. I press my hands against her hips and lick her with long, sweeping strokes that make her twist and buck up into my grasp. The taste of her fills my head. My cock throbs, and I shift to rub my groin against the bed.
“Oh, God…” Liv groans, running her hands up and down her body, squeezing her breasts. Tension vibrates through her. “So good…”
I move my hands back to grip her inner thighs and push my tongue inside her. She lets out a cry of pleasure, pulling her legs up to her hips, opening herself fully. Her cries become louder, a stream of pleasure that fills my ears and drowns out everything else.
She reaches down to grab my hair, twisting her body beneath me. When she comes, her whole body flexes and shakes, her hips curving upward, a groan tearing from her throat.
“Dean, oh… hurry, please…” She pulls me back up to her, her hands on the back of my neck as she crushes her mouth to mine.
She’s all soft, yielding heat, her breasts pillowing against my chest. I get on top of her, pressing her into the bed as her curves surrender to my weight. I want to enfold her, surround her, consume her. She slides her hands down my back to tug at my pants.
“Take these off,” she whispers, trailing her lips down to my shoulder.
I shove my pants off and grasp my aching shaft. Pressure floods me. My blood is on fire. Liv pushes to the side, her breath fast as she fumbles for the drawer of the nightstand.
I grab her wrist to stop her. Her breath catches in her throat, her eyes widening as she stares at me. The air thickens between us, drenched with heat and untold possibilities.
“I want to come inside you.” My voice is rough.
Something flickers to life in her expression that I can’t read, can’t define. I press my mouth against her cheek, down to her neck, back up to her lips. She puts her hand on my chest, right in the middle, as if she wants to feel my heartbeat.
Everything inside me fills with her.
“Let me.” I press my forehead to hers. My chest burns.
“Yes,” Liv breathes, tenderness filling her brown eyes as she searches my gaze. “Of course, Dean, love of my life. Yes.”
She strokes her hands over my back and writhes beneath me, opening her legs, pulling me closer. Beneath the physical pleasure coursing through my blood, there’s an immense shifting inside me, like the plates of the earth locking together.
Liv slides her hand down my abdomen and closes her hand around my cock. The touch of her fingers almost makes me come. Her breath is hot against my ear. I move again to position us both before surging into her tight channel with a groan. Sensation explodes through me. Liv winds her legs around my hips and her arms around my back, moans vibrating from her and into me as I ease out of her and push back in.
I want it to last forever, the clench of her pussy around my shaft, the hot dampness of her body beneath mine, the jostle of her breasts. I plunge into her again and again as lust fogs my brain and instinct takes over. My muscles tense and strain as I move faster, Liv’s cries driving my own need higher.
I brace my hands on either side of her head, wanting to feel the full length of her against me. She parts her legs wider. Our gazes lock through the heavy air. Sweat trickles down my chest. I push into her again, reaching between us to put one hand over her pussy and circle her clit with my thumb.
I love this, love her all spread open for me, watching her get all twisty and desperate, her long fingers plucking her nipples, her hair sticking damply to her shoulders. Another flick on her clit, and she comes with a cry, her pussy rippling around my cock. I surge into her, my mouth coming down on hers—open, wet, hot.
Liv clutches my biceps and closes her teeth on my lower lip. My head spins with the feel of her, every part of me driving toward the base need to mark her, claim her, make her mine again.
“Take me,” I whisper. “All of it.”
“Yes.”
She wraps her legs around mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her lips sliding over my jaw. Pressure cords my entire body. I thrust fully inside her as the pleasure explodes, shooting through me and into her with a flood.
“Dean, I… I feel it,” Liv gasps. “Oh...”
I sink on top of her, my chest heaving with ragged breaths, my cock still inside her. A shudder courses through her. Tears fill her eyes. I put my hands on either side of her face and kiss her—her lips, her cheeks, her chin, her nose, her eyelids.
I ease aside and take her with me, pulling her halfway on top of me. She hides her face in the slope of my shoulder. Her tears dampen my skin. I stroke her back, her hair, breathing in the sweet smell of her.
She’s trembling. Her heart beats against my chest in rhythm with mine. She rubs her damp face against my shoulder. My entire being fills again with the need to give her everything, to take care of her forever, to always prove how
much I love her.
“Okay, beauty.” I press my lips to her temple, tightening my arms around her. “Let’s see what finds us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Olivia
I WAKE WITH A START, MY heart pounding. For a second, I can’t remember why my body is pulsing, almost sore, why the sheets are twisted around my legs. Then I hear the sound of the coffee grinder, and suddenly it’s a year ago, and I’m waking to the sound of my husband making coffee after we indulged in a night of hot, sweet sex.
I’ll stumble to the kitchen where Dean will be dressed in a tailored suit with a gray shirt and striped tie, all distinguished-professor handsome as he gets ready for a day of lecturing about concentric castle architecture…
Then reality breaks into my almost desperate wish. With a soft groan, I roll over and press my face into Dean’s pillow. Breathe him in. Try not to think about the world encroaching into our space. Like weeds choking a garden of sunflowers.
No. I won’t let them in. Not here. I can still feel Dean on top of me, his weight between my legs, his deep voice against my ear.
“I want to come inside you.”
My inner thighs are still damp. I shiver. A million tangled emotions rise to the surface of my heart, but they are all eclipsed by pure, bright love.
I pull myself out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I shrug into my robe and go to the kitchen. Dean is leaning against the counter reading the paper, dressed only in his pajama bottoms, his hair messy and jaw unshaven.
I pause in the doorway to admire him, heat cascading through me as I gaze at his chest, his powerful arms corded with muscle, the hard slopes of his pecs, the ridges of his torso that I love to trace with my fingers.
His pants are slipping just enough to reveal the incredible V of his abdominal muscles arrowing toward his groin, and I imagine pressing my lips over them, following the path lower and lower…
“Ah, my marshmallow beauty.”
I jerk my eyes up to his, my breathing a little short. “Um, what?”
Amused, he nods toward my heavily padded bathrobe.
Well, crap.
I finally own several lacy nighties and a matching silk robe, but instead of slipping into one of those and strutting out here all sexy-like, I shuffled out in my old padded robe with my hair a flyaway mess.
I give Dean a mild glare and try to pat my hair into place. Of course he gets to look all deliciously rumpled and effortlessly sexy.
He puts the paper down and approaches me, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. He pats his hands all over my thick robe.
“I know you’re in here somewhere,” he mutters with a frown.
I poke him in the chest. “You know, I might be naked under this robe.”
“Yeah?” Intrigued, he looks me over. “Then let’s see if I can figure out how to liberate your gorgeous nakedness from such confinement.”
He presses his hips against me as his patting grows more aggressive, his hands moving down to tug at the belt of my robe. I consider maintaining my indignation over his teasing, then quickly dismiss the idea when he pulls the knot out of the belt and opens my robe.
He exhales a long breath of appreciation as he gazes at my naked body. That look alone makes my skin tingle and my nipples tighten.
“I could just lick you from head to toe,” Dean says, his voice a throaty growl that ratchets my arousal up.
“I wish you would.” I reach down to palm his groin, a thrill racing through me when his cock swells against my hand. The air between us charges with sparks as he lowers his head and captures my mouth in a kiss.
A moan escapes me as my body, still primed and hot from last night, responds with a surge of pleasure. Tension shudders through Dean, his cock pushing against my belly. He slides his hands up to my breasts, his lips locked to mine.
I fall into the whirlwind without hesitation, winding my arms around his neck and opening my mouth to his. I’m still wearing my open robe, and the contrast between the warm padding and the cool air coursing over the front of my body is wildly arousing.
Dean backs me up a few steps, then grips my ass and hauls me up onto the kitchen counter. I open my legs as he moves between them, his breath rasping against my neck. Heat flares. I push forward to rub my cleft against the hard bulge in his pajama pants, wrapping my legs around his hips.
A sudden fever lights the air. With another growl, he bites down on my lower lip, one hand holding me steady at the small of my back as he unfastens the drawstring of his pants and pushes them down. My heart hammers when he takes hold of his erection and strokes from base to tip, rubbing his thumb over the damp head.
He positions himself and pushes inside me. I clutch him to steady myself, unable to move in my precarious position as he begins to thrust. I dig my fingers into his broad shoulders, thrilling in the sensations sparking through my blood. Our lips collide, his tongue pushing into my mouth, everything in me opening, surrendering to him.
He reaches down to spread his fingers over my clit, his shaft pulsing against my inner flesh, and then I feel it again, the surge of semen as he shoots deep inside me. I press my face to his shoulder. He strokes me harder, his other hand spread over my back as pleasure erupts inside me.
Still quivering, I twine my arms and legs around him and hold on. As the sensations ease, Dean lifts me off the counter, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. I lean my forehead on his chest, inhaling the scent of his skin.
“Damn, woman,” Dean mutters, sliding his lips down to my cheek. “Now my coffee’s cold.”
“Cold coffee, hot wife.” I smile and give him a little pinch on the butt. “Told you this robe drives you wild with lust.”
“What’s in that robe drives me wild with lust,” he responds, squeezing my breasts before easing away to tug my robe closed.
I fasten the belt, feeling all warm and loose as we heat up the coffee and get breakfast together. I sit at the table with a bowl of cereal, my gaze falling on the airline receipt he’d left for me yesterday with his flight information.
A chill prickles my skin suddenly. I put down my spoon, watching Dean as he approaches with his coffee and a plate of toast.
“So… how did it go yesterday?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual even though my stomach is knotting up with anxiety.
He doesn’t respond. He pulls out a chair and sits down, his muscles rippling with tension. He doesn’t look at me.
That scares me more than anything.
“Dean?”
“Later.” He looks up, his eyes tender as he reaches across the table to rub his finger over my lower lip. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Right now, I just want… this.”
I nod, needing to give him what he wants, even though my fear takes root. After breakfast, Dean goes into his office, and I let myself believe what I did first thing this morning—that it’s just us, going through our day together, happy and content.
Rain begins to splash against the windows. Dean comes out of his office close to noon. I’m sitting on the sofa beneath my ragged quilt, reading a biography about a medieval author I found on one of his bookshelves. I set the book aside and look at him. Lines are etched around his eyes. A strain fills the air.
I push the quilt away so he can sit beside me. The sensation of his strong, muscular body next to mine is a comfort.
He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his head bent. I can only stare at him, dread spreading black tendrils into my heart, my chest so tense that I struggle to pull in my next breath. I get to my knees on the sofa and put my hand on his thigh.
“Dean?”
“When we first met, I felt like I’d woken up,” he says, his gaze on the floor. “Like everything before you had just been the prologue to my real life. I’d spent all those years waiting for you, not
even knowing I was waiting, and then you were there. The second I saw you, I knew I’d do whatever it took to make you mine. But even when I did… it scared the hell out of me, being with you.”
His confession from our first year together echoes in my head. “You’re the first woman who’s ever made me afraid. Afraid of how good this is. Afraid it won’t last. Scared to death of losing you.”
An ache of love spreads through my own apprehension. I turn my palm upward so we can twine our fingers together.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” Dean says.
“You don’t have to be,” I tell him. “Not with me. You know how nervous I was when we first met, how I flinched when you touched me, how I ran from you when I realized how badly I wanted you. But you were so gentle, Dean, so warm and inviting, like this big, comfy quilt that I wanted to burrow into forever. And you wrapped yourself around me so tightly that you made my fear go away. I want to do that for you.”
Dean tightens his hand on mine. I feel his wedding band pressing against my fingers. I stare at the lines of his profile, the way his hair tumbles over his forehead, the column of his throat.
“I resigned, Liv.”
Not until he says the words do I realize I’d been half-expecting them. And yet they sear into me like a burn, filling my entire body with pain.
“No.” My voice cracks.
Dean turns to face me, his eyes dark. “I know. I didn’t tell you before I did it. Exactly what you’ve been asking me not to do. But this time, keeping it from you wasn’t just my way of protecting you.”
“Why… why didn’t you tell me, then?”
“Because I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if I had.” He pushes to his feet and crosses to the window, staring out at the wet, gray light. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand the look in your eyes. Knowing how much it would hurt you. I was… in a way, I was trying to protect myself. I couldn’t weaken. Couldn’t make it harder than it was.”
I press my hands to my face. Anger and sorrow boil inside me. This can’t happen to him. Not Dean. He’s worked so hard. It’ll kill him to lose the solid ground of academia and scholarship. It can’t all crash down like this.