A clenching of her inner muscles, her lips shaping a single word. “You.”
Groaning, he managed to wedge in another finger. “You can take a third, can’t you, Sarah?” His fingers were thick, but his cock was thicker.
Bracing her hands behind her on the counter, Sarah arched into his fingers in a silent answer. He pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit as he began to push a third finger inside. The pressure was exactly what Sarah needed. Screaming, she held on to his wrist with one hand as her body spasmed around him, those hidden feminine muscles promising his cock so much pleasure that it came back to life in a rock-hard surge.
Pulling out his fingers—and inciting a cry of pure feminine outrage that made him grin—Abe spread her thighs wide and, pulling her forward, thrust deep inside her in a single motion while she was still in the throes of orgasm. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her head fell back, his name falling from her lips over and over.
“You feel too damn good,” he groaned. “But don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of stamina thanks to your sexy mouth.”
“Oh God, Abe.”
He rode her through the last shudders of her first orgasm, then got to work on heating her up for a second. And a third. She was boneless when he finally came inside her, when he marked her in the most intimate way possible.
Holding her cuddled up against him, their bodies yet one, he hoped she knew he was loving her.
SARAH LAY IN BED AFTERWARD, her mind hazy and her breath still short.
Abe had always done this to her, turned her into a mass of trembling flesh that was all nerves and sensation and need. But he’d satisfied her too. As he had tonight. Even when everything else had gone wrong between them, the sex had been phenomenal.
During their marriage, she used to call it “making love”—at least in her own head. Her stupid mushy heart had liked the sound of it… but she had to be honest now. They weren’t making love now, hadn’t been making love then. No… she had been.
Because she’d loved Abe in a way he had never loved her.
Careful, Sarah. Don’t you fall again. Don’t you let yourself be broken when you’ve barely put yourself back together.
“Only until the baby comes,” she said on a driving wave of fear and primal protectiveness.
Abe leaned up on his elbow to look down at her, all gleaming brown skin and taut muscle. “What?” He ran his free hand over her abdomen and hip.
She shivered, held on to her thoughts through sheer strength of will. “This,” she whispered, looking away from him because facing a sexually sated Abe and having rational thoughts were mutually exclusive events for her. “Us.”
His hand went motionless on her skin. “I thought you said I could have a role in our kid’s life if I proved myself and my sobriety?”
She turned onto her side so she was facing him—and he was scowling now, so she could hold an actual conversation instead of being led around by her hormones. “Of course you’re going to be a father to our child,” she said at once. “I want that more than anything.” Memories crashed into her without warning. “You have to stay clean though, Abe. I can’t handle all that again—and our child shouldn’t have to.”
His jaw muscles tensed, as did his shoulders, but he didn’t get angry. “Yeah,” he said, “I get that. I won’t fuck up our kid’s head by getting shitfaced.”
“That’s what I meant about us too.” She took a deep breath, and his scent, it was like a drug through her system. “It’ll confuse our child if he or she finds us in bed together, or if they figure out we’re having sex.”
Raising his hand, Abe brushed her hair off her face, a passionate intensity to his gaze that held her captive. “Only if we aren’t together in reality by then.”
Her heart slammed against her rib cage, hope spiraling upward in a golden burst. It was tough, so damn tough not to jump into the arms of that hope. “We self-destructed, Abe,” she whispered. “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through to you about—”
“I had to be ready first.” Abe’s voice was rough, brutally honest. “You couldn’t help a man who didn’t want to be helped.”
“It wasn’t just that.” Then she said it, said the most hurtful thing. “You didn’t love me.”
Abe’s face closed off. She’d seen that a hundred times before, should’ve become used to it. But it still hurt just as badly as the first time he’d shut her out. “There you go,” she said through a throat gone raw. “Leaving me behind while we’re naked in the same bed. I never felt as lonely as when you did that.”