Page 44 of Choices

Either I'm going to marry this woman, bed her, and make her mine, or my heart will be irrevocably broken, and I'll never be the same. Either way, tonight, I'm shooting my shot.

I watched as Alan stormed in and stormed out a little while later. I didn't know whether to intervene or not. I'm almost certain she hadn't told her husband about us, but he was furious, and for a moment I was scared for her. I had to see her and make sure she was alright. I wouldn't have been able to sleep tonight. So I watched from the dark as she cleaned up, put the kids to bed, and settled in the kitchen with a glass of rosé. But I needed to see her. Needed to hear her tell me she was okay.

Her chest is unknowingly pressed against mine, while her hands work a towel over my damp head.

I reach out and wrap one of her wristswith my hand, stilling her movement. I press a quick kiss to the inside of her wrist. My eyes dart to hers to gauge the situation.

Her eyes are wide, her mouth slightly parted, but she isn't pulling back, and she doesn't look disgusted.

So, I lay another kiss, this one slightly closer to her elbow.

Holy fuck, I'm really doing this.

I continue to place chaste kisses all the way up to her elbow.

"Hannah, tell me to stop if you don't want this," I warn her. I'm too far gone. I need her like I need my next breath.

But if she's not into this, I need to know.

She's silent. Her pupils are dilated, and her chest is heaving with her quickened breath.

I continue to kiss up her arm, across her collarbone. She leans her head back to give me better access.

FUCK. YES.

I kiss my way up her neck, giving her soft bites and tongue lashings.

"Holy shit, I'm about to kiss Hannah Calahan," I whisper to myself against the skin of her cheek.

She gives me a breathy laugh but doesn't move.

She has no fucking idea what this means to me. I can't count the number of times I've jacked it to this exact scenario.

I pause, hovering just over her lips, for a moment. I look into her eyes, wanting to be a thousand percent sure this is what she wants before committing. But all I see is need, and lust, and want.

I press my lips forward, meeting hers, and my heart sings. Hannah's handsgo to the back of my head, holding me against her, her lips molding to mine, and I'm lost in euphoria.

I'm kissing Hannah Calahan. Holy fuck. Holy fuck, I'm kissing Hannah Calahan.

She tastes like the rosé she was drinking. Like the rosé, I want to pour over her underwear while I eat her out. Like the rosé, I want to pour down my abs so she can lick it off of my...

"Matthew." She whispers.

Oh, holy fuck.

"Say it again."

"Matthew?"

Don't come, don't come, don't come.

Luckily, before I spoo in my boxers like a teenager, she pulls slightly away from me. She pulls away, but only a fraction of an inch. Her hot breath fans my wet lips.

"I can't," she whispers, her forehead pressing into mine. "I still married. I'm not a cheater." It's like she's trying to convince herself. And I get it. She's not a cheater.

I roll my forehead against hers, just fucking loving the proximity. "Divorce him. Today. Tonight. Come to my office. This week. We'll figure it all out." I say, rambling, my dick leading my brain.

"Okay," she says, her reply breathy and without any fight.

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