Page 107 of The Humiliated Wife
"I can't stop." His voice was raw. "Do you know how many times I've jerked off thinking about the way you used to look at me?"
Fiona felt heat flood her cheeks, her body. This was insane. He was talking to her like she was still his, like she still belonged to him.
"You want to know what's sexy?" He was close enough now that she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. "It's the way you care about your students like they're your own kids. It's the way you left notes in my lunch. It's the way you still believe the world can be good even after everything I did to you."
"I'm not—" she started weakly.
"You are." His voice was fierce. "You're everything. You're sunshine and kindness. You made me stupid, Fiona. You still make me stupid."
She was trembling now, caught between wanting to run and wanting to step closer. "This doesn't change anything."
"I know." His voice broke. "I know I lost you. I know I don't deserve you. But God, Fiona, let me show you. Let me show you how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you."
He reached for her hand, slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, his fingers intertwined with hers.
"Please," he whispered. "Let me touch you. Let me show you.”
"Dean," she whispered, and it sounded like surrender.
His hand waswarm in hers, familiar in a way that made her chest ache. She looked at him—really looked—and saw the man she'd fallen in love with. Not the polished version he performed for the world, but the one who used to hold her like she was precious.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "Because if you're not?—"
"I'm sure." And she was. Not because her body was betraying her rational mind, but because her rational mind had finally caught up to what her heart had been trying to tell her. She wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to feel desired and beautiful and whole again.
She’d once believed she could never be naked in front of him again—not after what he did. But her body wasn’t braced against betrayal. She trusted him with this, at least. With her body, if not her heart.
He lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I've missed you so much."
"So show me," she said, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded.
Dean's eyes darkened. He stepped closer, his free hand coming up to cup her face with a reverence that made her breath catch. His thumb traced along her cheekbone like he was memorizing her all over again.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "So fucking beautiful, Fiona."
When he kissed her, it was soft at first—a question more than a demand. She answered by leaning into him, by parting her lips under his, by letting herself melt into the familiar warmth of his touch.
His hands framed her face, then slipped into her hair, scattering the pins that had been holding her bun in place.
"I love your hair," he murmured against her lips. "The way it curls when it's humid. The way it smells like sunshine.”
His words sent heat pooling low in her belly.
"Dean," she breathed as he kissed along her jaw, down her throat. Her cardigan was suddenly too warm, too confining.
As if reading her mind, his hands found the edges of it, pausing. "Can I?"
She nodded, and he pushed it off her shoulders with careful hands. It pooled at her feet, and she stood there in her simple blouse and jeans, feeling more exposed than if she'd been naked.
"Perfect," he said, and the way he looked at her—like she was everything he'd ever wanted—made her believe it might be true.
He walked her backward toward the bed, his hands never leaving her, always touching. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she sat down heavily, looking up at him.
"This is about you," he said, dropping to his knees in front of her. "Let me take care of you. Please.”
Fiona's heart hammered as his fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse. He carefully undid each one. When the last button gave, he eased the fabric off her shoulders, letting it fall away, leaving her in just her bra and jeans.
"God," he breathed, his hands skimming along her sides. "Look at you."
