Page 87 of The Affair
Always sensing my emotions, Sawyer spoke up, “Am I allowed to ask questions again?”
Titling my head to the side, I answered, “Sure.”
A simple smile spread across his face as his gaze shifted. Licking his lips, he bent forward and placed them on my shoulder. “Do you like it when I kiss you here?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered softly.
“Yeah? What about here?”
He moved lower, back down between my breasts. My head tilted back, feeling his hair brush against my skin.
“Yes.”
Bending down on his knees, he continued, “Here?” His trail took him south toward my belly button and to the edge of my panties.
“Yes.” My voice quivered.
His fingers slid under the delicate lace. He slowly removed it, placing tiny kisses on my hip bone before looking up at me. “You deserve to be worshipped, Elle, and I’m going to do my damnedest to prove that to you.”
Burying his face between my legs, he showed me just how a man worshipped his woman. His arms wrapped around my backside to hold me up, balancing me as my wobbly legs tried to give out.
It was torture and transformative at the same time.
I felt heat and lust.
Pleasure and joy.
I felt the womanhood—that innate femininity I’d lost since my divorce—return as my body reacted to his touch.
“Oh God!” I was frantic.
I needed more.
Sensing my desire, Sawyer stood, his face flush and his eyes wild. My arms wrapped around him, and our mouths fused together. When he tugged me tight against him, I could feel his urgency. Finding the belt to his pants, I quickly loosened it, never slowing our kiss. Once his belt was free, he stopped, pulling away before I had a chance to unzip his pants.
Before I could ask what was up, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a condom, holding it up. “I came prepared.”
“Right,” I managed to say.
I guessed if I wanted answers, now was the time. I could ask him if he always came prepared.
I could ask him how many dates he’d had that ended like this.
But I didn’t—because none of it mattered.
He’d said earlier tonight that we both had a past. He was able to look past mine. I had to do the same.
If I wanted him, I had to take all of him—the known and the unknown. The good and the bad. The comfortable and the not-so comfortable.
And if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was how much I wanted Sawyer Gallagher.
Ready to finish what I’d started, I undid the button of his pants as he watched intently. The zipper came next, and soon, the gray slacks were added to the growing pile on the floor.
Now, he stood before me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I’d imagined what this might look like—me and him, naked and alone. But now that it was almost here, I realized those fantasies had come devastatingly short of the real thing.
Hot, sexy, consuming.
There were too many words to describe the man before me, and as we tumbled to the sofa, my legs wrapped around him, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest damn woman to be here with him.
