face, rinsed out his mouth, and grabbed a towel to hitch around his hips. He’d barely gotten it in place when the doorbell rang. Jogging over to open it, he said, “Good morning.”
Sarah took a physical step back, her face blanching. “You look like you’ve been on a bender.”
“What?” He shook his head, got his brain cells in order. “No, I was playing.” He held out one hand.
Forehead wrinkling, she grabbed it. “Abe, your fingers are swollen! How long did you play?”
He shrugged, his eyes caressing the exposed curve of her nape as she bent over his hand. She’d swept her hair up into a neat little knot, was wearing a blue-green dress that had lots of panels that hugged her form. “A bit.”
Sarah’s lips parted as if she’d yell at him. But she snapped her mouth shut on the next breath, dropped his hand, swallowed. “We need to talk.”
Abe frowned; her tone was so tight, her body held in such fierce check. But he wasn’t going to interrogate her. Not when she was finally back where she belonged. In their home. “Yeah, sure. Come in.”
PALMS DAMP AND SKIN FLUSHING HOT THEN COLD, Sarah walked into the house she’d fled two years earlier, hurt and lost. “Maybe you should…” She waved vaguely in the direction of Abe’s body.
And God, what a body.
It was like he’d been carved out of rich, chocolate-colored marble. All ridges and valleys and glowing skin. Relief colored her blood: now that she was really looking, it was obvious he hadn’t gone back to abusing drugs or alcohol. He’d never looked this healthy, this goddamn good during their marriage—and even then, he’d been difficult to resist. Now…
“Were you in the shower?” she asked when he just scratched at his stubbly jaw after shutting the door.
“No. In bed.”
Her mind immediately supplied her with a hundred highly distracting images of Abe sprawled out, the sheets kicked off his bare body. Then her blood ran cold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“Alone,” Abe said before she could finish, his voice firm. “Sleeping alone.” He held up his abused hands. “Crashed after playing.”
“Oh.” She fiddled with the strap of her simple black purse. “Um, clothes?”
Her husband—ex-husband—looked down at himself as if he’d forgotten he was only covered by a teeny, tiny yellow towel that showed off far too much of his powerful thighs and seemed in danger of slipping off at any second. That buttery yellow shade should’ve made him look less masculine, but it did the opposite.
It threw his maleness into stark focus.
“Right.” Abe’s eyes lifted to connect with hers… and a slow smile crept over his face.
If he said anything teasing at that moment, she’d throw her purse at his head. Sarah swore it. Today was not the day for Abe to be all teasing and sexy and making her crazy. “Clothes,” she repeated in a tone that brooked no argument, and pointed in the direction of his bedroom.
He chuckled and began to turn that way. “Back in a minute. You want to make yourself some coffee?” he asked over his shoulder. “I got a new machine Fox recommended.”
Sarah went to say no, then decided she might as well find something to do with herself or she’d go mad while waiting for him. “I’ll make you one too.” She headed to the kitchen before she could give in to the urge to watch him walk way, his muscular buttocks moving against that flimsy excuse for a towel. “That’s what got you into this mess,” she muttered to herself as she reached the kitchen.
It was all black marble counters and white cabinetry, the appliances steel and the windows generous. A room full of light that she’d once made even more vibrant with fresh flowers, it had always been her favorite place in the house. She had so many great memories of this room—including a treasured one with Abe. He’d been mostly naked that time too, having just come out of the pool wearing only snug, dark blue shorts.
She’d been putting together a pasta salad for their lunch, and he’d wrapped his wet body around hers from behind, making her squeal. But she’d liked it, loved that he’d cuddled her, kissed her neck, maneuvered her unprotesting body to a wall before lifting her up so he could take her against that wall. She’d expected a hard, fast quickie, but he’d kissed her so much that day, his hands petting her body, and his cock in no rush inside her.
Her lower