He lowers his head, stroking his hands down my back to grasp my rear and hold me against him. Our bodies press together, the cotton of his shirt further sensitizing my nipples.
After another long, deep kiss, I move backward and reach down to tug off my panties. Already my body is craving release again. Dean rakes his eyes over my nakedness, the burn of his gaze making my skin prickle with urgency. I kneel on the bed and gesture for him to lie down beside me. Still clothed, he does.
I straddle his waist, running my hands over the front of his shirt, feeling his body heat through the material, the heavy beat of his heart. Unfastening the buttons, I rub his muscular chest, the ridges of his abdomen, down to the waistband of his trousers.
I unbuckle his belt and slip the leather out with a rasp. The metal buckle clanks as it lands on the floor. His erection pushes against the front of his trousers, and I make quick work of the zipper to release his beautiful, thick cock.
My breath quickens. I shift to the side so I can pull his trousers and boxers off and drop them to the floor. He’s watching me, his chest rising and falling with his own rapid breaths.
I grasp his shaft and lower my head to take him in my mouth. He tangles his fingers in my hair. The taste of him floods me. I close my eyes and breathe, tightening my fingers around him. He pushes his hips upward. I put a hand over his hipbones to keep him in place.
I can feel his tension, his urge to thrust. He wants to fuck my mouth, but he won’t. Not yet. After a moment of adjustment, I slide my mouth over him, stroking my tongue over the pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. My heartbeat resounds in my ears, a renewed arousal coursing through me.
I wrap my fingers around his cock and pump, keeping my lips sealed around the tip. Dean fists his hand in my hair. A groan rumbles from his chest. Strain coils through his muscles. I take him in deep again, my hair falling across his thighs, his stomach.
I sense it instinctively, that moment when his control is on the verge of breaking. I move off him, our gazes clashing with hot understanding. He grabs my waist and rolls me onto my back, nudging my legs apart with his knee.
In one movement, he sinks into me, the sudden hard length of his cock jarring a cry from my throat. “Dean!”
“Oh, fuck, Liv…” He shifts, muttering another curse as restraint winds through him. He pushes his hands beneath my thighs. “So damn good.”
I writhe beneath him, my breath scorching my lungs as I take him in deep. The impact of his thrusts shake my body, the buttons of his open shirt gliding deliciously over my damp skin. I grip his shoulders, seeking his mouth with mine, wrapping my legs around his hips to lock our bodies together.
I’ve spent the last weeks craving exactly this—the press of my husband’s powerful body against mine, the full weight of him on top of me. I’ve longed for him to take me, reclaim me, promise me I will always be his. I’ve been desperate to surrender to him again.
He pulls out, pushes forward, again, again, until we’re rocking and thrusting in an exhilarating rhythm that is both familiar and gloriously new. I clench around his cock, the friction sparking excitement over my nerves.
I need no other stimulation except my man on top of me, stroking me from the inside. Bliss explodes in a collision of stars at the same instant that Dean pushes so deep I feel him in my bones. His groan vibrates against my skin as he comes inside me, his fingers gripping my thighs.
“Christ.” He rolls off me and we lie there, gasping as we catch our breath, still cocooned in the haze of lust.
I push to one elbow, turning to face him. He looks beautiful, sated, with his shirt open and wrinkled, his skin damp with sweat. He pulls the shirt off and drops it to the floor.
“Come here,” he says.
I curl my body against his, gliding my hand across his abdomen.
This is easy. If we could fix everything by pleasuring each other, we’d already be back in a place where there are no doubts, no mistrust. No fear. But as good as sex has always been between us, we both know it’s not enough. I don’t know what will be enough.
“Dean…”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, Liv.” He tightens his arm around me and brushes his mouth against my temple. “Right now I want you naked against me. I want to wake up cold because you’ve hogged all the blankets. I want to feel your leg between mine, your hair in my face, your arm flung across my chest. I want to find myself on the edge of the bed in the morning because you’ve sprawled all over the mattress. I want to sleep with you.”
I move closer to him and tuck my face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Breathe in the scent of his skin. Feel his heart beating against my palm. This, at last, is right where we both belong.