“How’s Chloe?” she asks quietly.
I make a noncommittal sound. “Dropped her at my parents’. She’s their problem now.”
Lore laughs, pulling back just enough to look at me, her hands still resting on my waist. “Then where areourproblems?”
I smile. “Handled.”
She narrows her eyes. “Define handled.”
“Harvey’s got the kids for the night.”
Her brows lift. “Both of them?”
I nod. “And Gen went with them.”
She blinks. “She did?”
I wince a little. I love my brother, but the idea of Harvey and Genesis like that is… a lot. “Yeah. He can’t really afford a three-bedroom on his salary alone, especially after his Vegas binge, so she went to check the place out. See if it makes sense.”
Lore hums, thoughtful. “That actually might not be a terrible idea.”
“I’m hoping the backyard convinces her,” I admit. “Might cure her of the living-alone fantasy.”
Lore’s eyes flick past me, then back again. Her lips curve slowly. “Wait… so we’re alone?”
I lift a brow, deliberately suggestive.
She smiles, slow and dangerous. “Really?” Her hands are already moving, fingers working the buttons of my shirt like she’s running out of time.
I laugh and gently catch her wrists. “Hey.” I nod past her shoulder.
She follows my gaze.
The kitchen table is set, candles lit, plates set, two steaks still sizzling softly in the pan.
Her teeth catch her lower lip. “Stay with me here,” she says quietly. “Steak tastes better after sex.”
I don’t even have to think.
“You know what?” I say, grinning as I step back into her space. “It really does.”
“Uh-uh,” Lore says, already tugging me down by my shirt.
Her mouth finds mine, decisive and hungry, hands sliding into my hair like she’s done waiting.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, and she lifts her arms just enough for me to pull it over her head. Her skin is warm, flushed in the candlelight, and I trace the curve of her waist, memorizing the way she shivers under my touch.
“Patrick,” she whispers, her voice rough with want. Lore tugs me toward the hallway, and I follow without hesitation, leaving the steamy steaks and the flickering candles behind. The carpet muffles our footsteps as we stumble upward, a tangle of limbs and shared kisses, my hands never leaving her body.
In the bedroom, the moonlight spills through the window, painting my wife like a goddess. I back her toward the bed, and she falls back against the sheets, pulling me down with her. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us, the scent of her skin, the feel of her in my arms.
I unbutton her jeans, sliding them down her hips, and she helps me kick them away. My own clothes follow in a tangle of fabric and desperation, until there’s nothing left between us but heat and need. I enter her slowly, watching her face as she arches into me, a soft cry escaping her lips. The bed groans beneath us, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
Her hands grip my shoulders, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I move, each thrust deeper, harder, until she’s trembling beneath me, her body tightening around mine.
“Patrick,” Lore screams, tightening around me, and that’s all it takes. I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck as the pleasure crashes through us, leaving us breathless and spent.
For a long moment, we just stay like that, tangled together in the moonlight, the scent of sex filling my lungs. Lore’s fingers tracepatterns on my back, and I press a kiss to her temple, my heart still racing.
