curls. “Want a braid?”
“Just a basic one so the sheets don’t get soaked.”
It doesn’t take me long, but as she relaxes into my touch, I prolong the task. She always liked when I took care of her hair. It requires more time, sometimes more than she has.
When was the last time I did this for her? For the girls?
She catches my frown. “Is everything okay?”
“Just trying to remember the last time I did this.”
“It’s been a while,” she says quietly. Our gazes connect in the mirror.
“I feel like I’ve been thinking that about a lot of stuff.”
She doesn’t comment and it’s probably best. There’s nothing she can say that won’t drive the point home more. Just because I lived here didn’t mean I was around.
I divide her hair into three sections and braid it. She produces a tie.
All done.
Our gazes meet in the glass again. It’d be so easy to reach around and unlatch the flap of fabric holding her towel in place. But I don’t.
“Drop the towel, Natalie.”
Natalie
If we do this, there’s no going back. I can’t write it off as a frantic, impulsive coupling against the washing machine. I can’t use the overtired, overwrought and overemotional excuse. I’m all of those things, but he’s giving me plenty of time to back out.
That’s the last thing I want to do.
I unhook the towel and let it fall to our feet. There’s no more fabric between us. His hot erection brands my back, but moves away when he leans over to press tiny kisses along my shoulder up to my neck.
A shiver traces down my body. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation and not having to rush.
He reaches around me and cups my breasts. His warm, strong grip cradling me saps the rest of my inhibitions despite how this will complicate things.
Things are officially complicated, but we’ve decided to go through it together.
Together. Like we are now.
I flutter my eyes open and roll my head to the side, making room for him to nibble his way up my neck.
A blush graces my skin. From my cheeks down my torso. I’m usually cold after a shower, constantly moving to keep warm. But not tonight. He’s a furnace at my back that won’t let one goose bump through unless he’s the cause of it.
Seeing him through the mirror isn’t enough. “Take me to the bed.”
He looks up, his lips still pressed against my skin. I don’t know what he’s searching for. To see if I’m copping out? Too self-conscious?
It’s neither. I want to hold him like I’ve been dreaming of doing for months. I want to not go to bed alone for once.
Sensing my resolution, he leads me to bed. I sit and scoot back, drawing him over me. His weight is better than any blanket. I widen my legs until he fits in the cradle of my thighs, but he doesn’t do more than kiss me. Slow, languid, exploring. Our tongues caress against each other. Our hands roam of their own free will. I stroke mine up and down his back, around his sides, then up and across his shoulders. Familiar planes of muscle ripple under my hands.
He shifts to nibble his way down. Down my neck, over my chest, across my belly, only to pause and look up. “I’ve been dreaming about this every damn night. It’s kept me awake for hours,” he says hoarsely.
I haven’t been the only one. I wondered. I hoped. To hear it confirmed makes me certain that moving forward is the right thing to do. Because at the end of our marriage, he didn’t act like a man who’d lose sleep over losing me.
“Simon, I didn’t think…” He drops a kiss right at my bikini line. I suck in a breath and arch my back.
“Didn’t think what?” His warm breath wafts over my fevered skin.
I didn’t think he loved me anymore. “I thought you were over me before I was over you,” is all I can say.
“I’d never get over you.” Another kiss, lower this time. “Not in a thousand years.” He flicks his tongue across my clit, a shot of pleasure that jacks my hips up. “When you kissed me in the office, I knew we still had a chance.”
He was the only one then. But now? I think we have a chance too.
Just like our kiss after we landed on the bed, Simon takes his time. He’s an expert when it comes to my body and he proves that he hasn’t