Page 83 of Wife After Wife
As they kissed, her fingers traced a path down his chest, then stroked him softly through his trousers. She unzipped him, and her fingers found their way through.
Soon they were naked, skin to skin, and she pulled him to the bed.
As they lay down he paused above her, searching her eyes, seeing his own hunger reflected in hers. Then he stopped thinking and there was just the touch of her, the scent of her, the sound of her moaning gently, whispering his name. He’d never lost himself so completely in a woman before, never experienced such passion. This was beyond anything he’dever known. She kept her eyes locked on his as he entered her, making her gasp, and the heat in their dark depths took him to greater heights, then to someplace in his subconscious, beyond time, deeply recognized, strangely remembered. She cried out, finally closing her eyes as ecstasy flooded through him and he buried his face in her hair, muffling his cry.
They lay still and quiet for a while, their limbs entwined.
But not for long. They made love all night, their desire insatiable, their brief snatches of sleep interrupted by one or the other wanting more. Ana was like a woman possessed, kissing him with a ferocity he’d never known, matching his rhythm, digging her nails into his back.
So much for the Ice Queen.
“Going to have to rethink that nickname,” he said, during a lull.
“What, Ice Queen?”
“If only they knew.”
“You melted me. I’m a puddle now.”
“And I’m drowning in it.”
•••
Next morning found Harry scrambling eggs and making coffee in the kitchen, like the stereotypical bloke in a rom-com after a big first night.
And just like the stereotypical girl, Ana appeared in the doorway dressed in the shirt he’d been wearing the night before. He took in her tousled hair, her sleepy eyes, her smile. If possible, she looked even sexier than she had last night.
“Come back,” she said.
He looked at his pan of eggs. “But three hens and I worked hard to make your breakfast.”
“Not forgetting the cock.”
Harry chuckled as he turned off the stove and scooped her up in his arms. “Saucy wench.”
CHAPTER 27
Ana
Ana lay on the bed in a post-orgasm coma. Her limbs felt like lead, and her mind was filled with Zen-like calm. Satisfied. For now.
Harry had matched her, led her, whereas Percy had always followed. Harry was skilled, anticipating what she wanted—needed—with uncanny accuracy.
The unwelcome thought that Merry had paved the way intruded on her bliss, but she flicked it away. What had she expected? Harry had history. Rather that than an inexperienced guy with no imagination. She couldn’t have it both ways.
She sighed with pleasure, remembering every detail of the night before, from the most sexually charged dance of her life, to the kiss in Leicester Square, the taxi ride, and the long, long night of passion. She’d never felt so alive.
It was Saturday, and the weekend stretched ahead, full of promise. They would do all those things people did on first weekends. Breakfast in bed, sex, walks in the park, more sex, more food.
She slid out of bed, feeling the life return to her limbs, and put Harry’s shirt back on, walking through to the kitchen.
“No. This time I’m cooking the eggs,” said Harry. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet bare. “I need to replenish my energy. Currently running on empty.”
How could a man look so beautiful on zero sleep? She slid her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his back. “Eggs would be lovely. How good are you at cooking eggs? Our future together depends on your answer.”
“I’m the boss. At eggs too.”
Later Harry showed her around the penthouse. “Shall we keep it, then?”
