Page 42 of His Weekend Wife

“You told me to leave, that you no longer needed me. We both said a lot of things that we didn’t mean. I allowed pride to lead the way. Yet somehow I knew that we were both better off.”

He tore his hand through his hair. “If that’s what you believe.”

“We lived—live—in two different worlds. I didn’t see myself in yours.”

“Yet I only saw you when I thought of my world.” He swallowed what felt like a sliver of glass.

They finished their meal in silence.

A drop of wetness fell to his cheek. He looked up and another splattered on his forehead. He looked at Ash and she was swiping her hands across her face.

“It’s going to rain hard any minute. You ready?” he asked.

“No, but I guess we should.”

Most of the candles had already been snuffed out by the rain.

He took her hand and together they ran to the door and slipped inside, laughing. Their gazes met and he couldn’t resist her, never could. He dragged her into the elevator cubicle, closed the door and pulled her up against him, breathless. Her warm breath brushed his cheek as he threaded his fingers into her damp hair, loosening the silken mass from the chignon. Her firm breasts rose and fell, pressing against his chest, her fingers digging into his biceps as she held onto him.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered. He dropped his hand to her lower back, drawing her closer, feeling her hips and thighs against his body.

Her gaze stayed with his as she shrugged lightly. “It’s hard to think when you’re this close.” Then she shifted her gaze away coyly.

“Look at me,” he demanded. Her wide blue eyes came back to his and her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” Her long lashes swept across the tops of her cheeks.

“Then what?” he urged, needing to understand what was going on inside of her—needing to know if it matched his own train wreck of thoughts and feelings.

They faced each other, leaning close, clutching one another. She brought her hands up and rested them on his shoulders and her eyes widened more. Her expression became tense, as if she needed to confess something and it was stuck on her tongue. Talk to me! Tell me all your secrets!

She shook her head as if she’d heard his thoughts and closed her eyes briefly. They came open and the wall was coming back into place. “I can’t.”

He frowned, wanting to encourage her to open up to him. Her eyes were so intense, tangling him in an internal web. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, kissing you. Touching you,” he admitted. “I feel as if I’m losing myself.”

She stood on tiptoe and whispered, “That makes two of us.”

His chuckle was more like a growl. She pressed her lips against his for a kiss that made his gut ache. He slipped his hands to her ass, squeezing the tight, curved muscle and slipping his knee between her inner thighs. His body turned rock solid. He wanted to press her up against the wall, right here, right now, lift her dress and lunge himself deep into her. He had a feeling she wouldn’t deny him. He lowered his mouth to nibble her neck, her ear then back to her cherub’s bow lips where he licked the cherry-tinted seam. She groaned and opened up to him and he sunk his tongue deep…

The elevator sounded.

She pulled back, curiosity filling her gaze.

The doors came open just as they parted, looking innocent although Declan’s insides were boiling with need. They were still on roof level.

The waiter stood outside of the doors, staring, a plate balanced on his palm. “Dessert?” he asked.

“We’re finished,” Declan said, entwining his fingers with Ash’s as he pushed a button on the panel. He caught the doors before they closed, looking down at Ash. Her lips were moist and swollen from his kisses and her cheeks blushing. “On second thought. Could you pack dessert up?”

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