"So you honestly just live here like roommates?" her mother said as she sat in Jeff's living room for the first time, watching as Lisa hung garland from the staircase.

"Yes, Mother. Just like that."

Ingrid took a sip of the tea Lisa had given her. "And he doesn't—well, you know, he hasn't tried to..."

Lisa snorted. No. He hadn't. And she was loathe to admit it disappointed her to no end. The man obviously had no interest in her beyond her entertaining skills and possibly mild friendship. He was the picture of gentlemanly behavior, but Lisa increasingly found herself wishing for something a little less polite, even though she knew she shouldn't.

"Mom. I explained this to you when we got married. It's not like that. He's a very polite guy, totally on the up and up. All he needs me to do is set up the house, throw a few parties, present a nice married front."

Ingrid huffed. "Well, if that's all he needs from you, then he's obviously getting his needs met elsewhere."

"Mom!" Lisa gasped as she stood on the step ladder, garland wrapped around her wrist and forearm before it draped in big loops up the bannister toward the second floor of the house.

"I'm only saying what we're all thinking," her mom persisted. "He's a very nice-looking man, a soldier, in his prime. You really think he's going to go a whole year without—you know?"

Lisa rolled her eyes even as her stomach took a flip inside. "It's called sex, Mom. You can say it out loud. And I have no idea if he's going to go a whole year without, but I sure am, so maybe you should spare some of that concern for me."

"Oh for heaven's sake. It's different for you."

Lisa raised an eyebrow at her mother. "Really? Are we going back to the 1950s here?"

"No, but you've come off a bad relationship. You've been in a holding pattern since Doug left. This isn't different from what you've been doing the last couple of years. It's just now you're doing it in a house with a very handsome man."

And was she ever. The longer Lisa was around Jeff, the more attractive he became. Maybe she was the one who should be getting her “needs” met elsewhere.

"I'm sure a man like him had plenty of company before he married you. But he said you weren't supposed to see other people, right?"

"Ye-es..." Lisa's mind jumped to the image of Jeff in another woman's bed, his broad shoulders between her legs as she arched her back and gasped in ecstasy. If she had a mirror she was certain her skin would look positively green.

"So?" her mother asked with a pointed stare. "How's he managing it?"

Another image popped into her head, this one involving Jeff, naked in bed, his big hand wrapped around his bigger— "Okay, Mom, I'm sorry but I just realized I need more garland. I'm going to have to leave now!"

"What? I thought you wanted me to help with the candles on the staircase?"

"No, I need to get there before the store closes at six."

"Well, I can go with you—"

"Thanks, Mom, but I have to meet Nell right after." She picked up her mom's purse and handed it to her as she ushered her toward the door. "I'll call you next week and you can come see how it all looks, how's that?"

"Ok, if you say so." Her mother's brow furrowed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes!" Lisa said too brightly. "Absolutely fine, just a little absentminded."

Her mother looked confused but gave in, agreeing to stop by the following week as she trundled out to her car.

Lisa nearly collapsed against the door after she closed and locked it. Holy hell. Things had gotten worse than she'd realized. After Doug left her, she'd had a couple of brief relationships. Really more about proving to herself someone wanted her even if her husband didn't. But as soon as the bills for Doug's Excellent Adventure had started pouring in, she'd become too preoccupied with trying to stop the train wreck to worry about dating. It had been two years since she'd had real sex, and apparently it was beginning to wear on her.

But Lisa was all about problem-solving, so she knew what had to be done. Checking the time on the kitchen stove, she saw Jeff wouldn't be home from work for at least another hour and a half, so she scooted upstairs, dug through her dresser drawer until she found the item she was looking for, and stripped before walking to the bathroom in the hallway. Yes, some alone time in the shower should help. A girl had to keep up with this stuff or she'd end up exploding from all the sexual tension. Especially when she was living with a man who looked like Jeff Thibedeux.

She sighed. It was going to be a long year.

* * *

Jeff watched as the garage door rolled slowly up. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, noting he was more than just a little early getting home. Hell, he hadn't even made it to five o'clock today. Little by little, minute by minute, he'd been shaving time off his work day. He couldn't help it, it was like he was possessed. Knowing Lisa was there at his house, waiting where he could see her, watch her, fantasize about her, it was more than he could take. It was killing him to be at work past four o'clock when he knew she got home from teaching school.

So today, he'd outright lied to his secretary. Told her he wasn't feeling well, and left the office at four thirty. Now it was barely after five and he was pulling into his garage, obsessed with only one thing—his very own wife.

He entered the house, his stomach fluttering with excitement to see her, but found the kitchen, living room, and dining room empty. The study turned up nothing, and the staircase showed a half finished decorating project as if she'd simply walked away, which wasn't like her.

He stopped to listen, then heard the sound of running water. That was odd. Lisa took her showers in the morning before work—he knew because he spent fifteen minutes every morning imagining her in there, soaping her breasts, hands dipping between her legs. It was like a fresh hell greeting him each day.

He lost the jacket and tie by the front door, and unbuttoned a few buttons at his collar, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Then he went up the stairs. He just needed to know she was okay, then he could relax, take comfort in the fact he was home, and so was she, his favorite condition these days.

As he reached the top of the stairs though, he heard a faint humming noise that carried over the sound of the water.

"What the...?" He stepped to the door.

And that's when he heard her.

"Oh God, Jeff," she moaned.

His heart thudded once, hard, then began to race. Shit. Was she hurt? Sick?

Before he could think about it at all, he twisted the knob on the door, his protective instincts in full alert. The door swung open, but instead of what he expected, Jeff was greeted with a sight that caused the breath to catch in his throat. His eyes widened as blood raced to his groin.

The glass door to the shower showed him a sight conjured straight out of his daily fantasies. Water rushed over Lisa's nude body where she stood in the large square shower stall, one leg propped on the tiled bench in the enclosure. Her head was thrown back, her hair slick, dripping down her shoulders. She had one hand cupped around her breast, kneading it, squeezing the nipple, and the other between her legs, stroking slowly back and forth.

Jeff swallowed, his throat as dry as a desert, his feet apparently planted in mortar on the tile floor of the bathroom.

She was so engrossed in what she was doing, she apparently hadn't heard him come in, and as he stood there while a voice inside his head screamed, "Get out you perverted fool, get out!" her hips rotated slowly and she moaned again.

"Oh yes, right there, just like that."

Holy. Shit.

A sound rumbled out of Jeff's chest involuntarily then, and her head straightened, eyes snapping open. He was poised to turn and bolt, the apologies at the edge of his lips, but instead of screaming or throwing something at him, like he expected, her gaze met his and she didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't blink.

They stayed like that, locked in lust, drinking each other in, until he acted on instinct, slowly toeing off his shoes while she watched, one hand still at her breast, the other between her legs.

When the shoes were off, he ever so slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Her tongue darted out, wetting her top lip, and sending his cock into a full, raging hard-on.

His shirt hit the floor, and her gaze stayed glued to him as he lifted his undershirt over his head. When it cleared his face and he could see her again, everything about her grew tense, her gaze raking over him with pure fire.

A switch shut down in his head at that point, and his pants, boxer briefs, and socks were off in a flash, then he was striding for the shower, his steps sure, his body primed to engage.

He opened the door, and the humming noise caught his attention again. He looked down just as he realized what it was, and without asking, reached between her legs and took the vibrator out of her hand.

"I can give you the real thing," he whispered as she melted against him, her hands stroking over his chest and abs.

He dropped the vibrator on the floor of the shower where it shut off from the impact. Then, without a word, his hands were on her. Skin. Slick, hot skin caressed his fingertips, slid beneath his palms, glided across his tongue. In moments, he was palming both her breasts as she groaned in torment, begging incoherently.

"Shhh," he consoled. "I'll make it better, I promise." He turned her to face the bench, and sat down in front of her, his cock springing up like a lightning rod between them. Grasping her hips, he brought her toward him, placing a series of kisses along first her hip bones, then her rib cage, and finally latching on to her nipple, sucking hard, teasing with his teeth and tongue until she was panting wildly and begging him to do more.

One hand slipped between her legs and he nearly came when he touched her sweet, swollen clitoris. He rubbed it gently before sliding two fingers inside her where her walls clutched at him, tight, hot, and so fucking wet.

"Jesus," he growled as she arched her back and moaned like a goddamn porn star. "Tell me what you want," he gasped, pumping his fingers in and out while his other hand found her ass and his lips found her nipple again.

"Oh God," she cried. "Everything. I need everything."

His mind was a haze now, lust ripping through him like a hurricane. He stood and pushed her back against the tiles on the other wall of the enclosure. One hand circled her wrists as he pushed her arms up over her head. The motion caused her back to arch, and he couldn't help but look down at her full breasts, slick with soap and water, the indent of her waist, and her round hips, so silky smooth, bisected by the prettiest thatch of dark curls he'd ever seen.

"I want to fuck you," he whispered in her ear. "You okay with that?"

She nodded emphatically. In the back of his mind he knew there was something else he ought to be worrying about, but he was consumed by her, by this, by them, so without another thought, he used his free hand to reach down and lift her knee, hooking her leg over his forearm as he bent his knees slightly and found her center with the head of his cock. They both gasped at the sensation of him sliding through her heat, and without any warning, he thrust up, hard.

She took him in one smooth slide, all the way to the base, and cried out, her head banging lightly against the shower wall.

He wanted to ask if she was okay, but his hips were already thrusting, his nerve endings sparking with electricity and heat.

"So good," she sobbed, her head writhing back and forth against the tiles. "So good, don't stop, please don't stop."

He did as she wished, putting his all into the rhythmic pumping, slowing every once in a while to grind against her clit.

"Yes, more," she gasped, so he thrust harder and faster, and when he didn't think he'd be able to hold on any longer, he released her wrists, dropping his hand between them where he put his thumb to her clit and pressed.

She fell to pieces. In his arms. Around his body. Before his very eyes. Her entire body went rigid, then began to shudder, from head to foot and back again, as her core throbbed and pulsed around him so tight and hard he wasn't sure he'd have a cock left after it was over.

But what a way to lose it.

Then, he couldn't focus on what she was doing because his own orgasm was there, his balls tightening up like something was choking them off his body, a current of white hot electricity shooting down his spine, and the seemingly endless throbbing as cum shot out of him over and over until he didn't think there could be a drop of anything left inside.

He collapsed against her, pressing her into the shower wall, his head in the crook between her neck and shoulder. His heart was racing, his lungs on fire. And all he could think was, What the fuck was that?