As his lips briefly part from hers, she sighs softly.
Familiar feelings: intensity; need; lust.
Hands dusting across fabric, fingers scraping buttons, grasping zips till warm skin meets warm skin.
He tastes like beer and for some reason it makes her hesitate.
“God, you feel good.” His voice is a low growl and so close to her mouth it’s muffled.
When he lowers her to the bed, the sheets are cool beneath them, silky.
His lips lower, pressing to the pulse in her neck. He’s so good at this, her husband.
She smiles – it’s a pity he’s not here.
Written by Cate Waltham