She gasped. “None?”
“None,” he confirmed. He leaned his neck to the side, smiling at her tenderly. “I’m married.”
“M-Me too,” she said as tears slicked down her face. “I haven’t been with anyone but you.”
He took a step toward her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you so much, it felt like dying,” she said, taking a step toward him.
“Like thirst and hunger,” he said, reaching for her. “All the time.”
“Like frost. Like ice. Like there was no warmth on the earth,” she said, stepping into his arms.
“Like eternal winter,” he agreed, pulling her tightly against him.
“Like happiness was a fairytale. Like joy was a myth. Like love…”
“…was impossible,” he finished.
Elise leaned her head back, her eyes dark and wide in the dim light of the motel room. “You’re here with me.”
“I’m here with my wife.”
He’d dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet nothing he’d fantasized could compare to Elise’s upturned face telling him that she didn’t want a divorce and never had. She still wanted him, still needed him, still loved him.
Skimming his hands up her arms, their breath mingled hot and sweet between them, and Preston cradled her neck between his palms, her throbbing pulse under his thumb. He took his time leaning down, his lips moving closer and closer to hers until they touched the sweet softness that he’d missed so desperately, and he sealed his mouth over hers.
What started soft and gentle, however, turned fierce immediately. Elise’s hands, which had been flattened against his chest, skated up and wound around his neck, pulling him down to her, and Preston’s hands slid higher, into her hair. Plunging his tongue into her mouth, he swallowed her deep moan, dropping his hands to her waist and turning so he could push her against the motel room door. Her fingers untwined from his neck, gliding down his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt, which he shrugged off his shoulders. He took her hands and raised them over her head, holding her wrists against the door with one hand as Elise arched into him, pressing against his straining erection, whimpering for more. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he reached down for the hem of her T-shirt, pushing it up over her head and over the tips of her fingers until it dropped to the floor.
Sliding his hands down to her ass, he lifted her up and into his arms, her back still against the door, her ankles locking around his waist. He stepped back toward the bed, savoring the feeling of her wrapped around him, moaning, whimpering, kissing him like she’d never get enough of him. And he’d never, ever get enough of her: of the way she tasted, of the way she felt in his arms, pressed against his body, the thin, sheer fabric of her bra the only thing keeping her bare chest from colliding with his. Lowering them both to the bed, he fell on top of her, bracing his weight on his elbows as she leaned her head back into the pillow and plunged her hands into his hair to pull him back down to her.
He trailed his lips along her jawline, gliding down the soft, warm skin of her throat, then slid to her ear lobe, which he bit gently, eliciting a hotter-than-fuck “ahh” sound from his wife, who arched off the bed and razed his scalp with her fingernails, demanding his lips again.
He kissed her as he’d dreamed for two long years apart from her, his body hardening to the point of pain, as it always had, wanting her, remembering how they fit together, how it felt to be inside of her, and how they’d moved as one. He wanted her. Fuck, he wanted her so bad.
And yet…
He drew back, panting, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to catch his breath. She leaned up, trying to catch his lips with hers, trying to kiss him again.
“Elise…Wait, sweetheart. Wait…”
One of her hands fell from his hair, and she bent her arm over her head, the pose decadent and so sexy, he could almost convince himself to take what she was definitely offering and deal with the consequences tomorrow.
Except…
“Pres…,” she moaned, pushing her breasts against his chest as she looked up at him with dark eyes and glistening lips.
“Oh, God,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you right now, Elise, but the timing…”
She sighed—a huffing, frustrated sound, and nodded, panting as she unlocked her ankles and slid her legs down the back of his. “…is shit.”
He rolled off of her to lie beside her, placing his hands over his chest and staring up at the ceiling. Her side pressed into his, hot and damp, despite the air conditioned room. He leaned up on his elbow, looking down at her.
“I can’t lose you again.”
She reached up and caressed his cheek. “You won’t.”
“It almost destroyed me,” he said, clenching his jaw as he held her eyes. “I barely made it out alive, Elise.”