Page 37 of Forgotten Romance

A soft, helpless laugh slips past my lips. “I’m not a strong man. Not when it comes to you.”

“I don’t want you to be strong. Not tonight. I just want you to be mine.”

His lips ghost my chin, my jaw, creeping closer to the place they haven’t been in years. My lips are tingling with expectation, breath hitched and shallow, waiting for Mack to do what I can’t.

I slip my hands back, his short hair tickling my palms as I cradle his head, holding him close, breathing him in, stopping him from running away before he gets the courage we both need him to find.

His lips brush the corner of mine, and my heartbeat is so loud it’s pounding in my ears.

I’m actually fucking nervous. Scared is something I was expecting; being close to tears makes sense as well.

But nervous? To kiss my own husband again. To touch him and hold him and, with any luck, to take him apart for the last time.

But maybe …

I don’t even let myself think it. Don’t dare to hope that this could be getting us a step closer to where we both want to be. The only way we have a chance of anything else is if I walk away from a piece of who I am, but I’m scared without that piece that I won’t have anything left to offer.

I suck in a shuddery breath as Mack’s nose skims mine.

“Just one night …” he whispers.

My grip on him tightens. “I …”

“Do you still want me?”

That question makes me see red. “I’ve never fucking stopped.”

I crush his mouth to mine, a rush passing through my body, so heady it almost knocks me off my feet. He’s gripping me tight, pressing closer to my body like he’s scared I’ll disappear, and I’m clutching him back just as securely. I have no idea how many others have gotten to enjoy my husband, but I can guarantee they’ve never had him like this. Desperate and in love and afraid this will never happen again.

I know he feels it because I do too.

I hold his jaw, easing it open so my tongue can pass into his mouth. It’s the deepest most indulgent kiss I’ve ever had, and my senses are in overdrive. The skim of his firm tongue against mine, his stubble scraping my mouth, his soft lips fighting to keep this going. Like he’s begging me not to back away.

Now I’ve gotten a taste of him, that’s impossible.

His body against me, his scent, his strong tongue, his hands gripping my shirt, all of it takes me back, and my memories hadn’t done our time together justice. They never will. Because there’s no possible way to capture how I feel with him, as though all my pieces have found their home.

Mack backs me toward the bed, and I go willingly, not breaking our kiss until he’s pushed me backward onto the mattress. Our mattress. The place where we spent so many sleepless nights. Where we made love and found and held each other in the dark.

He covers me with his body, hard cock resting beside mine. But no matter how horny we both are for each other, I can sense Mack isn’t in a hurry to get to that part, which is a relief because neither am I.

I’d kiss him forever if it meant staying like this.

It feels like hours with him lying between my legs, kisses deep and slow, hips rotating on a lazy rhythm that has me needy but not yet desperate. I want to bury myself in his body, watch his face as I bring him to pleasure, but there’s a part of me that can’t bear to face that moment. The painful action of putting on a condom to fuck my husband will break the moment we’re escaping into.

I don’t need confirmation of that.

So before he can think to ask, I roll Mack gently onto his back and let my hand run over the front of him. With his shirt open, I get to explore every muscle, like a well-worn dream I want to sink into.

Then, I get to his sweats.

There’s no hiding his erection. The pants do jack shit to stop me from feeling every ridge. He grunts into my mouth as I wrap my hand around him, and a shiver ripples down my back.

As much as I’d hoped for this moment, I never thought I’d get to make love to him again.

Sex with Mack has never been an issue, but I get the feeling this time is going to ruin me.

I pull back, breaking the kiss so I can watch his face as I reach for the band of his sweats and push them down. He does the same, large hands sliding the material over my ass and down my thighs until I can kick them to the foot of the bed. The head of my dick skims his balls, and my eyes roll back at the sensation.

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