She wanted to explore.
She wanted to taste.
I shift slightly now, my jaw tightening as the memory collides violently with the present.
She bumps into me again, playful, her fingers tracing the muscle of my arm absentmindedly.
Or maybe not absentmindedly at all.
She glances up at me through her lashes.
Her eyes flick down.
Just for a second.
Then back up.
But that second is enough.
Enough to tell me everything.
Enough to make heat coil low and tight in my stomach.
Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing.
She doesn’t look embarrassed.
She doesn’t look shy.
She looks curious.
Hungry.
Fuck!
My pulse spikes, hard and heavy, my grip tightening on the railing behind her just to keep myself grounded.
“You’re very quiet,” she murmurs, her voice low in my ear.
The sound of it sends a shiver straight down my spine.
I lean closer, my mouth hovering near her skin, close enough to feel the warmth of her, close enough that if she turns her head even slightly, our lips will meet.
“I’m exercising restraint,” I tell her, my voice rougher than I intend.
Her smile spreads slowly, deliberately, like she enjoys knowing she’s the reason.
“That doesn’t sound like fun.”
“No,” I admit quietly. “It’s not.”
Her breath catches.
She shifts closer, her body brushing mine, her fingers sliding lightly along my chest like she’s testing the boundaries of my control.
“You don’t have to restrain yourself once we’re in your room,” she promises softly. “I’m your wife, after all.”
The elevator dings softly.
