Page 50 of Escape Girl

Bobby stepped in front of it, blocking my view. “So maybe I’ve imagined you here.” His voice lowered a half octave, taking us back to what we’d started in the bar hallway. “Want to know what I’ve imagined?”

He reached forward and carefully peeled off my suit jacket. Pressed his lips first to one bare shoulder and then the other. I shivered and bit my lip. He slowly unbuttoned my sleeveless blouse, and I let him slide it off as well. Pulling his shirt over his head, I traced my hands over his bare chest and biceps. He was definitely leaner, and his muscles were more defined than they’d been six months earlier. Exactly how many hours was he spending at the gym? I almost wanted to tease him about it. But then he gathered me to him and took my mouth in another one of those lingering, lush kisses that made thoughts fuzzy and stole my breath completely.

Just as I melted against his chest, he broke away. Maybe to lead me to the bedroom? But suddenly his forearm was under my ass, and before I could blink I was perched on the kitchen island. My suit pants were unfastened and in a puddle on the floor.

“Lie back,” he commanded. Panting, I did as he asked and lay flat on my back, my knees at the edge of the counter. My heart was beating in rapid bursts. I loved when he took control and told me what to do.

With warm hands, he slid my panties off and pushed my thighs apart. Then his mouth was on me, andoh, he remembered my body. How to move his lips, tongue, and face. Where I wanted pressure and where I wanted breath. Where to linger and when to move away.

He licked the insides of both thighs. “God, I’ve missed your taste.”

Then he wasright thereagain and I wasso close, so close, so close.

But I didn’t want to come without him, not this time, not after so long. I wanted to look in my husband’s eyes and watch him go up in flames with me. I sat up like a rocket and scooted my ass to the very edge of the counter. “I want you inside. Please.” I undid his belt and yanked it out of his pants like I was cracking a whip. “Get these off.”

He matched the urgency of my tone with his next hard kiss. His pants were gone like smoke, and I reached down to grip him. There was no hesitancy in my hands or how they touched him. I remembered him too, how he liked to be held and stroked. Bobby braced himself against the island, arms on either side of me, groaning with his face buried in my neck, and I reveled in his pleasure.

But I wanted more; I wanted our bodies connected. After being so empty for so long, I wanted to be filled. I wanted him to be inside methis instant. Tugging him closer, I tried to make it happen. But if I scooted anymore, I’d fall off the counter.

Bobby sensed my dilemma and raised his face to me, grinning. “I think the counter is too high. We don’t have the right angle.”

A wave of giggles swam up my chest and burst through my mouth. “Sexy kitchen time is always more complicated than one anticipates.” He chuckled along with me, and I remembered another wonderful thing about being intimate with him. We could have incredible intensity that transitioned easily to laughter and then back again.

Case in point—he straightened and pulled my ass forward with warm hands. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. And then, good God, he somehow lifted me and lowered me and slid himself inside me.

“Oh!” My moan was loud in the silent kitchen. Bobby swung us around until my back was against the refrigerator and the leverage let him slide in even deeper. “Oh God yes.” Way to put those new muscles to excellent use, I thought, and locked my legs around his waist. “More.” He thrust again and again, hitting every good spot I knew about and several I didn’t.

“I’m never going to walk through this kitchen again without thinking of this,” he gasped, the fridge shaking behind us. Inside, I heard bottles and jars clanking and falling.

“Good.” I liked that idea. I wanted him to think of this every single time he got a beer or a glass of orange juice. Every single time he walked into this brand-new room in his brand-new life.

“Come for me, Em.” He swiveled his hips and bit my neck and oh. Oh. OH. I obeyed and came apart around him.

*

“How are youhere?” Bobby asked sleepily from his side of the bed. He’d carried me in here from the kitchen, tucked me in next to him, and I’d been too blissfully strung out to protest.

I struggled to find a linear way to explain, but it was difficult because I could barely follow the threads myself. “Um, Max has a sort of old work enemy, and he set up some online searches to see if this jerk had ever taken advantage of someone else. He found Bella, another victim, and told Tess, who told Jo about it. Jo met Bella and encouraged her to hire me. So I came to Chicago to work on her case.”

Bobby blinked a few times at the information overload. “Oh.” He shook his head, looking a bit sheepish. “I was being sappy,” he said. “I meant it more like, ‘How are you here in this universe? How am I this lucky?’”

His words both melted and terrified me. His phone was on the nightstand table. I could so easily grab it and hit that damn Uber button. He followed my gaze and frowned. “Stop thinking about running away. It’s almost midnight. You’re sleeping here.”

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “God, what if I hadn’t decided to come back from Atlanta a day early? What if Max hadn’t called to see if I wanted to get a beer? I could not believe it when I saw you up there singing. Throaty, incredible voice and that amazing hair. You sang so confidently too. Youownedthat stage.”

I blinked a few times at his unrecognizable verbal description. “I guess I looked like a different person.”

“No.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “Not a different person. You looked like yourself, just actualized or something.”

Before I could dive into that he pushed himself up and back against his pillows. “Since I have you here, however reluctantly, will you answer a question for me? I promise it’s one I haven’t asked before.”

I squelched some of the panic rising in my throat. He’d asked me dozens of times why I left, so at least we weren’t going to go down that sad road. “OK.”

“Why didn’t you care about our wedding?”

That was unexpected. “Wh-what?”

He gave me a knowing glance. “You didn’t care. About any of it. You let the wedding planner and your father make all of the decisions.” He looked down at his hands and twisted his wedding ring. I was sure he’d already noticed that I wasn’t wearing mine. “You didn’t even care about your dress or the readings at the ceremony. Why?”

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