“You’d steal my clothes.” His eyes dropped to what I was wearing, and the look in them made heat pool low in my stomach. “You’re doing it right now actually.”
I looked down. He was right. Oversized t-shirt that came halfway down my thighs. Definitely not mine.
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Because you look better in my clothes than I ever did.” His voice had dropped lower, gone husky. His hand slid back up my spine, making me arch into the touch. “Because seeing you in my shirt drives me insane in the best way.”
Heat rushed to my face. I felt it burn across my cheeks, down my neck. Felt myself blush like a teenager even though I was twenty-eight years old and married to this man.
Michael’s eyes tracked the flush. Watched it spread across my skin with something that looked like satisfaction.
“I like that,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Making you blush.” His thumb brushed across my heated cheek. “Knowing I can affect you like this.”
“You’re shameless.”
“No.” His hand moved to cup my face. “I’m being honest about wanting you. About wanting to touch you. About thinking you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth. Lingered there. Then slowly, deliberately, moved back to my eyes.
“I believe you now,” I whispered, the words barely audible.
“What do you believe?”
“That we were in love.” I reached up, touched his face. Felt stubble scratch under my palm. His skin was warm and alive. “I believe you loved me. That you still love me.”
His hand came up to cover mine, pressing my palm harder against his cheek. His eyes never left mine.
“You’re everything to me, Claudie.” His voice was unsteady. Exposed. “You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing before I sleep. You’re the constant. The thing I measure everything else against.”
He leaned in. Slowly. His eyes never left mine, asking permission without words.
My breath caught. I could feel his breath warm on my lips. Could smell him. Could feel the heat of him.
His mouth was an inch from mine. Maybe less.
Then he stopped.
His eyes closed. His jaw clenched. And he pulled back.
My stomach dropped with disappointment so sharp it was almost painful.
“Michael?”
“We should take this slow.” His voice was strained. Like stopping had cost him everything. “You don’t remember us. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”
I wanted to tell him I was ready. That I wanted him to kiss me. That I’d been wanting it since I woke up in his bed. That slow was the last thing I wanted.
But he was right.
I didn’t remember us. Didn’t remember falling in love.
I was falling for him now though. In real time. But that wasn’t the same.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Slow.”
