Page 109 of Attached At Heart
If I thought Delaney’s cheeks were pink before, they were especially rosy now as she dragged the covers back down her body, exposing her in my shirt. A shirt I let her borrow years ago. A shirt she kept. A shirt she wore to bed. Jesus, I thought it had long disappeared, but she’d had it all this time.
Delaney got back out of bed, the shirt lifting as she stood, bearing the curve of her ass beneath that maroon-and-goldfabric. Nothing else. Not a single other thing was on her body except that shirt.Fuck me.
She spun, giving me a proper show to take her in, to appreciate her. And shit, was I appreciating her—her bare thighs that I’d been between and knew how good they felt, her bra-free breasts curving beneath my shirt, her sweet lips pulling into a smile. My cock twitched, coming to life with a desire that was even more intense than on the plane, than our night in the club, than anything that happened on the honeymoon.
Because this was it. We were back in Boston, and Delaney was inmybed, wearingmyshirt, biting down onmysmile as she watched my reaction, and fuck if I didn’t want to do the same thing. Just a little nibble on those kissable, plump?—
“Blake?”
I jerked my gaze up, staring straight into those sparkling, sapphire eyes. My heart lurched. The chokehold this woman had on me was so unbelievable that I honestly wondered if I would survive tonight.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing.” Her lips curved higher. “You’re just staring.”
Damn right I was staring.
I flashed her a wicked grin, unable to help myself. “Appreciating, remember?”
She bit down harder on her bottom lip, and I wassopainfully hard. It waspainfulthe way I wanted her. “Want to appreciate with your hands?” she asked.
I gaped at her for a moment, stunned. And then I got my shit together and took her straight up on that invitation.
“How did you know?” I rasped, leaning over to cup my hands on the back of her thighs and urge her closer to the side of the bed. Closer to me. Then I ran my palms up her smooth legs, shifting my eyes to hers when I reached the hem of the shirt. “How did you know that’s what I wanted?”
“Something about the look in your eyes.” After those sinfully soft words, she held my gaze, almost to prove a point. That there was something there. Something rare. Something that explained everything that was happening in this moment. Something that tugged on my heartstrings and then tied them all up into a knot.
Then Delaney nodded, a tiny indicator of consent that spurred me into action.
I slipped my hands beneath the shirt, skimming my palms over the curve of her bare ass and then her lower back before rounding to her hips, settling them there. Delaney didn’t look away from me as I touched her, as I experimented with how her body felt when the only thing on it was something that belonged to me. Her chest was the only part of her body that moved, heaving with labored breaths that looked a lot like the ones filling my lungs.
My bed, my shirt, my hands, my wife.
“You sleep in this shirt a lot, Lane?” I asked, needing to know.
She gave a sheepish shrug—not quite an admittance, but not a denial either. And I’d take it. Fuck, the knowledge that Delaney had been wearing this shirt to bed for years had my chest tightening. I didn’t even care if the only reason she wore it was because it was oversized and comfortable. I’d pretend otherwise, feed my delusions where she was concerned.
I didn’t press her for clarification, either. Maybe I was afraid of the truth, that it wouldn’t be what I wanted to hear. Or maybe I just had other things on my mind.
I cleared my throat. “Delaney, can I ask you something?”
She nodded, more confident this time. “You can ask me anything, Blake,” she whispered, her voice a low sort of hum. A frequency that my body hadn’t heard coming from her before. It made me absolutely vibrate with need.
I squeezed her hips as an experiment, and she released the tiniest moan.
Eagerness appeared as a glaze covering her eyes.
There would be no going back now.
“When’s the last time you had sex?” I asked softly, urging Delaney back into bed. But this time, I rolled onto my back and pulled her on top of me, one leg on either side of my hips.
Fuck, Delaney straddling me might be the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I gripped her thighs, keeping her there, not wanting her to ever move.
“Are we friends who talk about our sex lives now, Blake?” she countered, her voice just as quiet, just as gentle, even though having this conversation was rocking both of our worlds—I knew it was.
I traced the outline of her face with my eyes. “I think we are. I think we need to be if we’re going to do this.”
And Ireallywanted to do this.
