through him.
I stroke his chest again, teasing my fingers over the ridges of his abdomen, down past the flat plane of his belly and below the sheet. He’s wearing drawstring pajama pants, and I wiggle my hand beneath the waistband. He doesn’t turn toward me the way he usually does, but he doesn’t try to stop me either.
My sex is starting to pulse. I slide my hand lower to touch the warm, silky skin of his cock.
“Come on, Dean,” I whisper, closing my hand around his shaft. “Make me feel good.”
A heavy breath escapes him as he brings his hand up to the back of my head, guiding my mouth to his. Stars explode inside me when our lips meet in a hot, gentle kiss that is both like the thousands of kisses we’ve shared before and yet somehow entirely different.
I open my mouth on a moan, letting him in, loving the sweep of his tongue over mine. Heat travels through me, flickering over my veins. His cock stiffens in my hand, the pulsing flesh making me clench my thighs with anticipation.
“Take these off,” I say, tugging ineffectually at his pants.
He pushes them off and drops them to the floor, then pulls my nightgown over my head. His eyes darken with lust as he rakes his gaze over my naked body—my full breasts and all the hollows and curves he knows so well.
“You are so damned incredible,” he murmurs, cupping my breasts in his hands and rubbing his thumbs gently over my nipples.
A spool of lust begins to unwind inside me, and my body surges in response to my husband’s erotic ministrations. I lift my face to his, aching for his kiss. He eases me back against the pillows and brings his mouth to mine.
The heat of his body covers me, his hard chest pressing against my breasts. I wind my legs around his thighs and surrender to his sweeping kiss, the stroke of his tongue, the growing urgency coiling through his muscles.
Bliss.
The word dances through my mind like a dandelion fluff on the breeze. I murmur his name, driving my fingers into his thick hair and holding him to me. Arousal courses through my blood. I part my legs wider, urging him to settle between them. His erection nudges against my thigh, the feel of the smooth, damp head ratcheting up my arousal.
“Oh, god, Dean,” I whisper, stroking my palm down his gorgeous chest. “I’m already hot.”
“You’ve always been hot.” A wicked glint flashes in his eyes as he slips his hand between my thighs to finger my pussy. “Ah fuck, hot and wet too. You’re killing me here, Mrs. West. I was trying to go slow.”
“You don’t have to go slow.” I wiggle underneath him, aching to feel him thrusting into me, swift and possessive. “I’m ready.”
He reaches down to grasp his shaft and position it right at my slit. A tremble of anticipation rocks through me. I pull him down to me, driving my tongue into his mouth as he slides into me with delicious—
A gasp tears from my throat. Pain shoots through my left breast, a stinging burn like a flame. My whole body stiffens in sudden defense.
“What?” Dean jerks away from me, his hands going up. “What’s wrong?”
I force in a breath and sit up, clutching my breast.
“Liv, what happened?” Alarm edges his voice.
Stay calm, I tell myself.
I look at my breast, half expecting to see a burn or a cut, but it looks the same as always. I put my hand out to Dean.
“It’s…it’s okay. Just a twinge.”
“That was more than a twinge.” He starts to move closer, then backs away, like he’s scared to touch me again. “Do you want me to call Dr. Anderson?”
I shake my head, hating that this fucking disease—and the mention of my doctor—have ruined much-needed intimacy with my husband.
“No, it’s getting better. Sometimes there are just random pains.” The words sound hollow. I pat the bed beside me and try to smile. “Come back here. It’s fine, really.”
He hesitates, and I see his urge to hurry to the computer to find an explanation, even though we already know cancer is the explanation.
“Dean, I’m fine. Please come back to bed.”
Finally he lies back down beside me, though he’s still tense and the desire between us has evaporated. He pulls me to him with caution, as if he’s still afraid he’ll hurt me by touching me. Never before has my husband been afraid of touching me.
We’re both silent. I stare