After my husband’s admission, I slept in his bed. Every night. Sometimes with my face on his chest. Sometimes with his body spooning mine, his arms holding me against him. And always with his heart beating in sync with mine.
Eight years ago, I danced with the devil. Then I ran, but he saved me. After the girls and I left, the events took a turn for the worse, and I realized that my devil was in fact a savior. I should have stayed with him.
This time, I would.
Just like the first time I met him, something about this man touched me deep in my chest. It was warm and fragile. Days of stolen tender moments and some rough ones.
His mouth on every inch of my body was heaven. His body on mine was the sweetest torture. His skin against mine branded me forever his.
Days were a blur. Nights were a clear revelation.
The sun shone through the large French doors. The warm glow against my skin had me smiling in my sleep and reaching for my husband.
Contentment filled me. Yes, there were still things that needed resolving but we were headed in the right direction. I had no doubt we’d get there. Our paths hadn’t crossed again to be torn apart.
I felt his hand roaming my body, his rough palms against my soft skin had become a different kind of comfort I had come to crave. His thumb brushed against my bottom lip. I parted my mouth, then licked his finger and sucked on it.
“My reina,” he grunted, his big body covering mine. The rasp of his voice caressed my skin, his mouth skimmed over my neck and then he kissed me. I melted against his body, running my hands over his muscles.
“My diablo,” I murmured against his mouth. My heartbeat hummed in happiness. In rhythm with his, and I’d have died a happy woman at this very moment.
The ringing of the cell phone shattered the air.
“Ignore it,” I suggested. He kissed my throat and I tilted my head. He trailed his mouth down my throat as the ringing stopped. Then his mouth took mine again. Hard. Wet. Possessive.
Then his cell phone rang again and his forehead came to rest on mine. I sighed. “I guess you better take it.”
He rolled off me and reached for his phone. “This better be good,” he barked into the phone.