He literally tore the sleeves open, his cuff links making tinkling sounds as they hit the concrete of the garage floor. And then he was pulling off his shirt, sending the remaining buttons flying, and she couldn’t stop from spreading her hands on the mahogany-hued beauty of his chest, leaning in to taste him kiss by openmouthed kiss.
He shuddered, thrust his hand into her hair.
Sarah’s hand flew up. “My fascinator!”
Abe, his chest heaving, gave her a burning look… then smiled. “Come on.” Gripping her hand again, he drew her into the house and up to what had once been their bedroom.
Memories crashed into her, painful and beautiful and heartbreaking.
“Wait.”
Abe didn’t ask why she’d stopped in the doorway, digging her heels in. He knew. Eyes locking with hers, he said, “I’ve never brought any other woman here. Just you.”
God, this was so dangerous.
But she let him pull her closer, shivered when he kissed the side of her neck; she’d barely begun to process those sensations when he spun her around to kiss her mouth.
Sarah didn’t have the time—didn’t want it—to think about the past. Not tonight.
“This first,” he murmured after their lips parted in a whisper of damp heat.
Lifting his hands to her fascinator while she stroked the warm, smooth skin of his chest, he removed the bobby pins that held it in place, then put it carefully on the nearby dresser. Spinning her around so quickly afterward that she wobbled, might’ve lost her balance had she not left her heels in the SUV, he unzipped her dress. “Don’t want this wrinkled.”
A kiss to her shoulder.
Shivering again, Sarah let the dress fall off her body, stepped out. Behind her, Abe picked it up and threw it over the back of a chair. “There,” he murmured, his hands hot and a little rough on her hips. “Now you don’t have to worry.”
A second tender kiss to the curve of her neck. She’d been hot, wet, ready for a wild session, but this was different, the night changing in front of her. Panicked, she shifted to face him, pressing her body against his in a silent invitation. His erection made it clear he was as ready as she was, but he didn’t take her invitation, didn’t push her down on the bed or against a wall and thrust inside her.
“Now, Abe,” she demanded, dropping her hands to his belt buckle.
“What’s the rush?” He lifted those hands back up to his chest, placed his own hands on her waist. “You are so fucking beautiful, Sarah.” Kisses along her jaw, down the line of her neck. “Let me worship you.”
Panic twined with need, with memory, and it was hard to think, hard to breathe. “Kiss me.” She needed an anchor, needed him.
His kiss was deep and slow and as possessive as the hand he placed boldly over her breast. Shivering, she took and took, drinking him up. His breathing was harsh by the time they separated, his eyes glittering, but still he didn’t strip her naked, finish it. Falling onto his knees in front of her instead, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the black lace of her panties.
“Abe.” Her hand on the back of his head, her knees shaky.
“Shh, I have you.” Kissing a line along the waistband of her panties, he held her up with one arm around her upper thighs. A lick of his tongue over her hipbone that made her moan. Then, at last, he was shifting his arm and tugging down her panties and she was stepping out of them because she couldn’t resist Abe when he was being so tender.
Throwing the crumpled lace aside, he clamped his arm around the back of her upper thighs once more and kissed her again. Only this time it was on her bare flesh. Sarah cried out as her knees threatened to crumple. Her hands fell forward onto Abe’s shoulders, his body the only solid point in her universe.
“I have you,” he said again, his breath hot against her flesh.
Then he did what he’d said: he worshipped her.
Rocked by pleasure over and over again, Sarah felt boneless, liquid, when he rose to scoop her up in his arms. Laying her down gently on the bed, he first got rid of her bra. Then, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, he stripped down to the skin. Taking the thick length of his rigid cock in one fist, he stroked once, twice, his jaw clenched.
Sarah’s back arched, her lower body rising up toward him in a silent plea.
“I can see you,” he ground out. “So fucking wet for me.”
When he grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer, rolled it on, she wanted to protest. He was her husband— But no, he wasn’t. Not anymore. He was her lover for this one fantasy night and tomorrow… Tomorrow she’d think about tomorrow.
She lifted her arms and he came over her, nudging her thighs apart to push into her in a deep thrust that made her want to cry out except that the pleasure was too much, robbed her of sound. Her sense of completion was absolute, her arms wrapping around Abe to hold him close. He didn’t move hard or fast despite the fact he was viciously aroused. He took it slow, each stroke accompanied by a kiss, more than one, their bodies sliding skin to skin all over.