“More than you can imagine,” I reply.
She snorts, but her hand stays curled in my shirt.
“I, uh…” she says, a little breathless, “got us an appointment with Nina tomorrow.”
“What time?” I ask, sliding my arms around her waist and pressing a kiss just below her ear.
“Um…” Her fingers tangle in my hair as I trail my lips down the side of her neck. “She only had the last-”
She pauses, exhaling sharply when I linger at the sensitive spot between her shoulder and collarbone.
I make a low sound for her to continue.
“Four,” she finishes. “It’s at four.”
“Four,” I repeat against her skin.
Jess pulls my head up and meets my mouth with hers, and this time there’s no hesitation at all.
As we kiss, I guide her backward until her shoulders meet the hallway wall with a soft thud.
Her hands slide to my shoulders. Mine tighten slightly at her waist before moving to her ass.
Jess pushes her hips against me with a soft moan, and I lift her up, her legs coming to wrap around my waist. Our lips never separate as I carry her down the hallway to our bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us.
“Logan,” she breathes against my mouth as I lower her onto the mattress.
I follow her down, bracing myself over her, my forearm planted beside her head, my weight carefully held back but my body very aware of hers. “Jess.”
There’s nothing rushed about this. Not tonight. Yesterday was desperate, messy, half-starved. I’m honestly impressed I lasted as long as I did. Seventy-six days without touching my wife and I still managed to give her not one but two orgasms. I deserve a damn medal.
"I've missed you," she whispers as I slide the fabric of her shirt from her shoulders.
"I've thought about you every day," I confess, the words coming easier in the dim light of our bedroom.
"Which parts did you think about most?" she asks cheekily, her hands tangling in my hair as I kiss her belly button.
I pause, my head hovering above her navel, and consider her question carefully. This isn't about sex, not just about sex, anyway. Not like this morning when the only thing on my mind was to mark her the way she’s marked me.
"I missed everything," I say softly, making sure she understands. "Your laugh. The way you roll your eyes at me. How you start talking gibberish because you can’t stand the silence. Everything, Jess."
She smiles, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes before she gently pushes my head downward. Encouraged, I unzip her skirt and slide it down her legs.
"Bad girl," I murmur when her thong comes into view.
"Panties would’ve left a line," she says with a playful smirk.
I press a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "I’ve never been gladder for lines."
"Pervert," she breathes when I slide the tiny fabric down her legs, her back arching slightly as my mouth moves higher.
I settle between her thighs, gently easing them further apart. When my tongue makes first contact with her center, she gasps, hips lifting instinctively toward my mouth. The taste of her is intoxicating, familiar yet somehow new after our time apart.
"Logan," she moans, my name on her lips sending electricity down my spine.
I take my time exploring her, savoring each reaction as I trace slow circles around her most sensitive spots. Her fingers tangle in my hair, guiding me where she needs me most, but I resist, wanting to draw this out.
"Please," she whispers, her voice tight with need.
