Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(42)

“Oh, believe me, I get it. Mine have all been self-service lately.”

“For how long?” I asked, curious if there had been anyone since his wife left.

“Maybe six, eight months?”

I sat up again and looked back at him. “Eight months? Didn’t your ex just leave you last fall?”

“Yeah, but things had been pretty terrible throughout spring and summer. Once that final round of IVF failed, she wanted nothing to do with me. And even before that, sex had become a chore for both of us.”

“Oh.” I settled back against him again.

“What about you? How long had it been?”

“God, I don’t even remember. He lost interest in me sexually years ago. We’d go through the motions every once in a while, but like I said—it wasn’t like I got any real pleasure out of it. I was always left feeling lonely and unsatisfied afterward. It was physical, but not emotional. We had no real connection.”

He kissed my head again. “I get it.”

“But tonight.” I grinned, flipping over and bringing my knees astride his thighs. “Tonight was very different.”

“Yeah?” He gave me a cocky half-grin that riled me up inside, even though we’d already had sex twice and it had to be nearly one in the morning.

I nodded, the strands of my wet hair dangling between us. “I’ve had more orgasms in one night with you than I’ve had in the last five years of marriage.”

“Good.” He looked smug. “Well, good for me, anyway.”

“And good for me too.” With my hands on his chest, I leaned forward and kissed him, soft and honey-sweet at first, gently plucking at his top lip, his bottom lip, caressing them both with my tongue. Between my legs, I felt his cock stir, and it made me smile.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, sliding his hands over my ass.

I slid my hands up his neck and into his hair. “Nothing. I’m happy. I told you earlier that I came here tonight needing more than distraction—I needed validation. I needed assurance that I’m still sexy and alive. I needed to feel noticed and appreciated and desired. I never expected to feel this kind of . . . reawakening in myself. I didn’t expect my own sexual drive to be so hungry and demanding—or so easy to indulge.” I’d begun to rock my hips over his, sliding back and forth over his hard length. Already my stomach had that weightless feeling, and my blood was rushing faster. “But I’ll come again for you. I’ll come for you all night long.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “Tell me this doesn’t have to end in the morning, or I might actually have to tie you up in my bedroom just so I can give you orgasms every night.”

I laughed, rubbing my lips against his. “But I might want you to tie me up in your bedroom.”

His cock jumped beneath me, and he gripped my ass even harder. “Fucking hell, Sylvia Sawyer, what are you trying to do to me?”

“Right now, I don’t exactly know,” I said, lifting myself up slightly, then reaching between us. A moment later I was sliding down his long, thick shaft, hearing him groan with pleasure, taking him deep. “But it sure feels good.”





Later—much later, since we got hungry and foraged for snacks at two A.M.—we fell into his bed, and snuggled up close.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept naked,” I told him, resting my head on his chest.

“Me neither.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.” The temperature outside had dropped below zero, the snow continued to fall, and an icy wind whistled against the windowpanes, but I’d never felt so warm and safe and cozy. It had been years since I’d fallen asleep in someone’s arms this way, knowing there was no place else he’d rather be and no one else he’d rather be with.

I had no idea what I was doing, whether Henry and I sleeping together was a terrible idea or the best idea in the world, or how this was going to play out. Nothing had really changed. We were still two people fresh from bad relationships that had damaged us in ways we might not even be aware of yet. Neither of us knew what the future would bring. And I had two children that needed me to love them enough for both parents. This wasn’t the time for me to go looking for romance.

My judgmental voice, the one that loved to speak up just when I was enjoying an unexpected moment of bliss, threatened to lecture me, not only about parental responsibility, but believing the lies men told and trusting someone with my body, my secrets, my feelings.

To shut it up, I listened to Henry breathe as he slept, focused on the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

It was deep and even and peaceful.





Twelve





Henry





It was early when I woke up, the silvery morning light barely starting to slant through the blinds. I knew if I looked out the window, I’d see at least half a foot of fresh snow, which meant my first order of business today would be shoveling the driveway so Sylvia wasn’t stuck here.

Not that I’d mind so much if she were.

I propped my head on my hand and looked at her. She’d rolled away from me during the night and lay on her side, facing the opposite direction. Her golden hair fanned over the white pillowcase, and her body was curled into a ball. She had the sheet tucked against her chest, but her naked back was exposed, her skin luminous in the shadows.