Page 41 of Between Our Hearts

“Get out of the car.” His hand clenched the door frame.

Her muscles took a few seconds to respond to his command, but once she did, he closed the door and backed her against it. Each palm flattened against the window on either side of her face, his legs bracketing her own. Alarm bells rang through her mind, reminding her that she was supposed to be pushing him away, that she was supposed to be leaving tonight, though her body simply softened beneath his.

She was powerless when he wanted her like this. She’d always been.

An intense wildness that she’d never seen before took over his features as he muttered something unintelligible, only catching “show you.”

When he was a fraction of an inch from her lips, he paused and pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

His lips dove into a deep frown. “For not knowing that your own mother treated you like that and protecting you from it. And for not telling you every day that you are my idea of perfection. You were always so self-assured in everything, I thought that meant with this too. I thought you knew.” His mouth inched closer to hers as if drawn against his will. “I thought you knew what you did to me. How you drive me out of my goddamn mind.” The last sentence was roughly growled over her lips.

Instead of devouring her, his close-lipped kisses teased and toyed with her until her own tongue darted out. The minute it touched his skin, he instantly morphed into the untamed version of her husband she was familiar with. But now every movement of his hands and body, framing and tilting her face so he could explore her mouth deeper, his chest pressed intently against hers, took on another meaning.

They’d always had a chemistry that was undeniable. When Clark’s hot hands were on her, she’d forget her insecurities. She’d move into this alternate dimension where anything was possible, but she’d always doubt herself afterwards. That little voice that her mother had instilled in her since birth always whispered that she was wrong, that he couldn’t possibly feel the same way about her that she did about him.

Those hot hands were now exploring her body, squeezing and pulling at the fabric of her scrub top. When the pale green cloth passed over her face, reality came back in a sharp gasp. She needed to push him away, she needed to leave. Her mind searched for something to say, anything, to try and do the right thing.

“Your rules.”

His hoarse words zipped down her spine. “Screw the rules.”

When he picked her up with one arm and compressed her against the car again, his mouth over the nook of her neck, Sadie gave in. She wanted this as much as he clearly did. She might be aterrible, selfishperson, but she wasn’t pushing her husband away tonight. She couldn’t.

The window pressed the metal clasp of her bra into her skin until it stung. Then Clark pulled her forward and marched her up the four stairs into the house. Once inside, he took a sharp left into the downstairs guest room before tossing her on the bed.

This devilish smile crossed his face as he stood over her, chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers tickled her ankles as he slowly tugged one clog off and then the other before reaching up to pluck loose the bow holding her scrub pants up. He drew her pants off with a pace that maddened her before leisurely reaching behind his head to pull off his T-shirt. Clark looked like a starved man, and she was a juicy red apple as he crawled over her.

“You have to understand,” were the last words he said before he showed her again and again what he meant.

???

The air from the AC pricked Sadie’s naked skin as a slant of light pierced the room from the open window. She bolted straight up in bed, getting her bearings. The guest bed comforter clenched between her fingers as she noticed Clark’s resplendent body to her side, facing her. Her head snapped to the mantle clock that sat on the grey dresser—6:45 a.m.

“Shit.”

She jumped from the bed, nearly tripping over her discarded clogs. Her phone with her alarm that would have woken her up for her seven o’clock OR slot was still in the car with her messenger bag where she’d abandoned it last night.

Her movement startled Clark out of his slumber, and a lazy smile came to his face before he recognized her panic. “Are you late?”

“Yes,” she hissed, trying to decide if she should pull on the dirty scrubs on from yesterday but was unable to find where he’d flung her underwear.

He stood quickly. “Run upstairs and get changed. I’ll call Maggie and tell her you’ll be a bit late.”

Even in her rushed state, her gaze stalled a second on her husband’s gloriously naked body before she darted up the stairs. When she returned a handful of minutes later, he held out a travel mug for her.

“I didn’t have time to make espresso. Coffee will have to do today.”

Her hand grasped it, and she was halfway pivoting to the garage door when the sensation of his fingers under hers traveled up her arm and registered in her brain. Suddenly the onslaught of all the emotions she’d felt last night flooded her system.

Maybe she really was enough for him—just like this.

Everything else happened in coffee-scented slow motion.

The metal mug made a clunking sound on the granite island. His puff of surprised breath when her chest hit his blew over her face like a gentle breeze. The heat of his boxer brief-clad body speared through the thin fabric of her scrubs as she pressed him against the counter.

Though she knew she’d surprised him, he wasted no time matching the hungry need of her lips and tongue with his, his hands gripping and tightening as firmly as hers did around his shoulders.

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