I Sent My Husband Fake Cheating Proof, He Flew Home Overnight novel · Chapter 7 of 16

Chapter 7: The Drawer

He picked me up.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me up two flights of stairs in the dark without once missing a step.

"You really do know where everything is," I said against his neck.

He laughed.

I had never heard Christian laugh.

It was low and surprised.

I kissed the sound off his mouth.

On the landing he stopped and pressed me against the wall and kissed me back, slow and deep, until I forgot which floor we were on.

His hand slid under my sweater and spread across my back.

Three years, and it was the first time his skin had touched mine on purpose.

I shivered so hard he felt it.

"You're shaking," he said into my throat.

"Not from cold."

He didn't take me to my room.

He took me to his.

He kicked the door shut behind us.

He set me down just inside the door.

The room was dark except for the rain-light through the windows.

I could hear the storm against the glass.

"You have no idea," he said.

His voice was low and rough.

He didn't move to touch me.

"Then show me."

My hands went to his shirt.

I undid the first button and my fingers were shaking.

"Three years," I said. "I thought you found me unbearable."

He caught my wrists.

Not hard.

Just enough to stop me.

"Is that what you thought?"

His thumbs pressed into my pulse.

"Every day," I said. "Every time you walked out of a room."

He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.

"I walked out because I didn't trust myself."

"Show me what you wanted to do."

He let go of my wrists.

I finished his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.

The dark swallowed him.

I ran my hands up his chest.

He was hot and solid under my palms.

"You're shaking," he said.

"You've never let me touch you."

"I'm letting you now."

I pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it on the floor.

His breath went out of him.

"Hazel."

He said my name like he'd been saving it.

Like it hurt him.

I reached behind me and unhooked my bra.

It slid down my arms.

The streetlights made the rain run in lines across his chest.

He stood there, looking at me.

Not touching.

"You're allowed," I said. "I asked. I'm asking."

His hand came up and cupped my breast.

Just that.

His thumb skimmed my nipple.

I made a sound I didn't know I had in me.

"More."

He bent his head.

His mouth closed over my nipple and sucked.

My knees went weak.

He caught me by the waist and held me up.

"That's it," he said against my skin. "Say more."

"More."

His other hand slid down.

He unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down my thighs.

I kicked them off.

His mouth moved to my other breast, teeth and tongue, and I grabbed his shoulders.

"Christian."

He dropped to his knees.

I looked down at him.

The great Christian Kane, on his knees in the dark.

He hooked his fingers in my underwear and pulled them down.

"Step out," he said.

I did.

He looked up at me.

"Say it again."

"More."

He put his mouth on me.

His tongue slid through my folds and found my clit.

I cried out.

My hands fisted in his hair.

He worked me slow, then faster, his tongue flat and then pointed, and my hips moved against his face.

"You taste like mine," he said against me.

He pushed two fingers inside my pussy.

I was so wet I heard it.

"Fuck," I breathed.

"That's the idea."

He curled his fingers and sucked my clit at the same time.

I came hard, shaking, his name breaking out of me.

He kept his mouth on me through it, and then he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean.

I pulled him up by his hair.

"My turn."

I undid his belt.

My fingers fumbled, and he covered my hands with his.

"Slow," he said. "We have all night."

"I've been slow for three years."

I got his trousers open and pushed them down.

He stepped out of them.

His cock was hard against his stomach.

I wrapped my hand around it.

He hissed through his teeth.

"Jesus, Hazel."

I stroked him once, slow.

"How long have you wanted this?"

"Longer than you know."

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