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“You’ll have to win back my trust.”
“That’s going to be the sole aim of my life. I’m going to make you fall in love with me, all over again.”
I frown. “I never said I loved you.”
“But you do,” he says with that familiar arrogance that makes me both chuckle and also, want to slap him.
I settle for tipping up my chin. “So confident,” I huff. “I’m not going to make it easy for you.”
“Can't wait.” He smirks.
And that should piss me off, but all I feel is a familiar tug in my belly. I've missed his smirk. I've missed him holding my hand. I've missed this single-minded attention only Q can bestow on me that makes me feel like I'm the center of the universe. Which is why saying this next thing is so difficult, but I do it because I owe it to myself.
“I have one condition,” I add.
His shoulders bunch. A wary look comes into his eyes. I’m sure he’s going to say I can’t put conditions on our relationship, but he nods. “Go ahead.”
“I need some space, so I can focus on getting my paintings done for the show.”
His face falls. “You want me to keep my distance from you?”
No, I don’t. But it’s best for me, for now. “Only until the showing, so I can focus on my painting and hit my deadline.”
His chest rises and falls. A myriad of emotions race across his features. I’m sure he's going to say ‘no’ to this. But then he slowly nods. “Okay.”
OMG, I did not expect him to agree to that.
“Okay, good.” I breathe out in relief.
But then he adds, “I have a condition, too.”
Of course, he does. I manage not to roll my eyes, “What’s that?” I ask.
“Kiss me.” He looks deeply into my eyes.
It’s still an order. Q’s in charge when it comes to anything sexual. And yet, his tone is soft, and there’s a pleading quality to his voice that sends my pulse rate into a tizzy.
My heart stutters. My thighs clench. A familiar heat squeezes my belly. The heat from his body overwhelms me, and oh god, I want him to kiss me. I do. And if I do, I’ll find myself already giving in to him. It’s best I don’t. It’s best I try to keep some distance from him... I suppose.
When I hesitate, his face falls.
Then he squares his shoulders and nods again. He begins to move away, when I close the distance to him. I rise up on tiptoes, grip his arms and raise my face to his. Our lips touch, hold. For a few seconds, we breathe each other in. I feel the softness of his lips. The tenseness of his muscles as he holds himself back, as he lets me explore his mouth and nibble on his lower lip. And when he parts them, I slip my tongue inside. A groan rumbles up his chest. I shiver, throw my arms about his shoulders, and plaster my breasts to his chest. His entire body grows rigid. I rub up against the hardness that pokes into my belly, and he growls, “I need to kiss you properly, baby.”
I half laugh, then nod. Instantly, he tilts his head and closes his lips over mine. And his kiss… Oh my god, the feel of his hard mouth on mine, the way he slides his tongue over mine, the way he robs me of my breath and drinks from me like he’s starving and thirsty and needs to taste me to survive—I can feel it all the way to the tips of my toes. Prickles of electricity dance across my scalp.
I’ve missed my husband so much. Missed the way his body covers mine and his weight pushes into me and holds me immobile. The way the band of his arms around my body makes me feel secure. My nipples pucker, my pussy clenches, my thighs hurt, and yet he doesn’t let up.
He hauls me closer, so we’re stuck from thighs to hips to chest, so I can feel the thickness of his erection throb against my lower belly, and feel my breasts squashed against his chest and his pecs turn into hard ridges of steel. He runs his hands down my back to my butt and squeezes. Instantly, more moisture squeezes out from between my legs. I groan into the kiss, and there’s an answering rumble from him.
Then he tears his mouth from mine. We stare at each other, my breath coming in pants. His nostrils flare. His blue eyes are stormy with desire. The jut of his chin, the muscle that tics below his cheekbone—all of it is so familiar and so sexy. The lines radiating from the edges of his eyes deepen. “I love you. And I’m going to show you how much.”
50
Vivian
Husband: I love you!
My heart flutters. I’ll never tire of him telling me this.
