Twelve
Maddie
It’s only a man’s lips on my neck. Only a man’s heated breath on my skin.
It doesn’t mean we’re back. It doesn’t mean we’re staying married.
This position we’re in now—in Ewan’s bed, with his arm locked around my waist, and his mouth kissing, licking, and nipping up and down the side of my throat. This is just a chemical reaction to the familiar. Raw need.
When we were first together, we could never keep our hands off each other.
That, combined with total abstinence for years, feels like I might explode just having him around.
His glowering eyes. His tone when I’m being difficult. His tenderness when he’s worried about me.
No one has ever cared so much for my happiness since the day I sent him packing.
I might be an idiot.
We both might be idiots.
That hand on the small of my back creeps down the waistband of my skirt and pulls out my tucked shirt. Classic Ewan move to always get the clothes out of the way as soon as possible.
I shiver in response to the feel of that touch spanning my lower back.
Meanwhile, his mouth has moved lower, to the edge of my collar. Ewan nuzzles the skin of my collarbone, working the material out of the way.
The ache of the flu is no longer a concern; instead, everything aches with need.
I’ve had this hollow feeling between my legs from time to time, whenever I’ve taken a moment to breathe, to think about Ewan and where he might be. Who he might be with.
Knowing he hasn’t been with anyone else should make me feel guilty, but it doesn’t. It just makes me want to attack him, pin him to the bed and ride him until I shatter.
I reach for his belt, but Ewan gently scolds me.
“Not yet.”
Is he teasing me? I remember how big he felt in my hand, how his jaw would tic when I took him into my mouth. How hard and good and deep he used that cock inside me.
“Why not?”
“Just relax and let me handle it. Nothing strenuous for you tonight.”
I want to curse him, but then I do love that he’s already somehow removed my bra and has flung it off through my sleeve.
“You were always good at that,” I say.
I’m vibrating out of my skin as Ewan moves back a few inches to hike up my top. He puts his hand on my breast, exploring my skin, running his thumb over my hard nipple.
I watch his face as he does this. His eyes are trained on my curves, and he licks his lips.
I let out a small moan of anticipation.
“Maddie,” he growls. “You’re even more fucking beautiful than I remember.”
When he takes that first nipple into his mouth, my head lolls back at the sensation of his tongue dragging over that tight bud.
My hips buck forward on their own, needing to get closer to him. I hook one leg around his waist, and at the same time, I tug my green T-shirt all the way off.
