“I’ve dreamt about this moment.” He reaches out to stroke my collarbone, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
“Having s*x with me?” I laugh nervously. “You’ve done that before.”
His careful assessment is setting me on edge. I’m used to falling into heady lust with Mikhail and tearing each other’s clothes off. But this slow admiration is still new.
I feel like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones.
His hand whispers over my shoulder, slow, thoughtful. He fingers my lace sleeve before gripping my elbow, like he somehow knows I’m seconds away from diving under the blankets to hide from how seen I feel.
“Having s*x with my wife,” he clarifies.
“I’ve been your wife for months.”
He ignores me, wrapping his arms around my back until he finds the zipper along my spine. He draws it down careful
