Page 90 of If I Didn’t Have You

“What are you doing here?”

“Just making sure you came home tonight,” he bit out. “Wasn’t sure when you showed up at the bar in that…dress.”

The word was laced with disgust, but his eyes roaming over my body told a different story.

“You’re one to talk,” I said, tossing down my keys before striding into the room, grabbing my own whiskey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. Like you don’t know?”

Ice clinked in the glass, giving me only the slightest reprieve from the intensity of his stare. Whiskey slid down my throat, the burn taking away the sting of rejection I still felt.

My whole body stiffened as he stepped behind me, his chest brushing against my back as his hands found my hips, his fingers digging into my dress. His intoxicating scent wrapped around me as his nose skimmed my neck, and I inadvertently tilted my head, giving him the access I craved.

Just one touch of his lips made me shiver.

The softest kiss against my skin unraveled me.

One rough hand slid across my belly, pulling me tightly against him. My hand slid up, my fingers knifing through his hair as my eyes slipped shut. I didn’t want to think about him flirting with River or the way he glared at me at the bar. I only wanted this moment.

To feel his body against mine.

To be reminded of what we once had.

“Fuck, Clara, why the hell did you wear this?”

Heat pooled between my legs as he trailed his hand over my thigh to the slit in my dress. The pads of his fingers skimmed over my flesh at the slit, then drew the material higher until he bunched it in his fist at my hip.

All it took was a single look—the tilt of my head—my lips brushing against his.

My dress was torn from my body, leaving me in nothing but my bra and panties. I hadn’t been this naked in front of him in years.

Well, aside from the night he took care of me when I was sick, but I had been out of it, and completely unaware of the fact that I was naked.

But this…

His thick, hard length dug into my back, begging for something we hadn’t shared in over a year.

“Ben,” I whispered, desperate for his touch.

His soft lips skimmed over my neck, latching onto my skin at the base of my throat. I shivered from his touch, feeling like I would fall into the abyss at any second.

His lips crashed into mine seconds later, and he spun me, lifting me in his arms. Clinging to him, my lips never left his, not as he laid me out on the floor and his palm slid over my breast.

Shattered breaths slipped from my lips as he slid down my body and pulled my nipple into his mouth through the lacy material. I instantly spread my legs, letting his body rest between my thighs.

“Ben,” I cried out as he bit my nipple. My fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him back to my lips.

His tongue slipped in my mouth, giving me something I hadn’t had in years.

Passion. A connection. Everything we hadn’t truly had since the kids were younger.

“Touch me,” I panted.

The warmth of his palm caressed my skin, skimming over every inch of my body, until finally sliding in a tantalizingly slow figure eight over my clit. Every moan, every gasp only made him move slower until I was on the verge of crying out in anger and desperation.

A slow chuckle left his lips as he finally slid his fingers beneath my panties, through my soaked core.