Page 4 of Unfaithful

And the scariest part? The more I feared losing Sara, the more deeply I fell in love with her.

"Hey, you're awake," Sara said as she burst into our bedroom, wearing a Japanese silk kimono that clung perfectly to her figure. She had tied her brown hair into a messy bun atop her head, exposing her slender neck—a sight that never failed to make my mouth water.

I gave her a small smile, though it carried both love and guilt. She moved around the room, searching for something, like she did every morning. Losing things had always been part of her routine.

Watching her, looking manic yet effortlessly beautiful, made my chest tighten.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"My glasses."

"It's on top of your head, babe," I chuckled. Sara was only thirty-one, but she was as forgetful as an eighty-year-old.

She froze. "Oh." Her hand shot up to her head, finding her glasses. Then, she placed them on the edge of the nightstand, leaving me wondering why she had been looking for them in the first place.

"I just made breakfast," she said. "And now I'm going to shower."

I reached out, extending my hand toward her. "Come here first. I want a hug."

She halted, scrunched her nose, pretended to think for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I'm already late."

"Two minutes. Just a quick hug," I insisted.

Instead of answering, she sprinted toward the bathroom. But just as she disappeared from view, her voice rang out from behind the door. "But you can join me!"

Of course, I'd join her. I didn't need to be told twice. I sprang out of bed without hesitation, a grin spreading across my face.

When I entered the bathroom, Sara was already in the shower, the water cascading down her bare skin. The grin on my face widened as I quickly shed my boxers and stepped under the stream of water with her.

"You know," I said, leaning in to press my lips on her shoulder, my body aligning with hers, "inviting me in here is just going to make you even more late."

"Shower only, Cole," she said, squeezing a generous amount of soap into her palm before lathering it meticulously over my chest. Sara worked with precision. She was obsessed with perfection.

I was instantly hard.

"I can finish you in ten minutes flat," I offered.

Sara grinned. Then she shook her head. "Nice try." She spun me around and soaped my back.

After she thoroughly lathered and rubbed me clean, she turned me to face her and pressed the bottle into my hand. I glanced at it, then back at her, frowning. "You really expect me to soap you up when I'm already this hard?"

Sara laughed. "Yes."

"You're cruel, babe."

She lifted both arms, the movement making her breasts bounce slightly. I cursed under my breath but complied anyway. I never turned down a chance to touch her. By the time I had her upper body covered in scented bubbles, the ache was killing me.

"Honey, please..." I begged shamelessly.

She snatched the soap bottle from my hand and crouched down, her fingers gliding over me as her eyes lingered on my hardened shaft. For a moment, a flash of Elsa from last night crossed my mind.

I clenched my jaw and shook my head, forcing the thought away.

Sara looked up at me. "Okay," she said.

My eyes went wide. "Okay?" I almost squealed with excitement.

"Yes," she smiled.

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