One with You

I struggled to pull away when everything inside me was goading me to push further. “I need to be inside you,” I said hoarsely, hating that I had to voice what was so obvious. Why make me plead?

“You are.” She nuzzled her cheek against mine. “I want you, too. I’m so wet for you right now. I feel so empty it hurts.”

“Eva … Christ.” Sweat slid down my back. “Let me have you.”

Her lips touched mine. Her fingers raked through my hair. “Let me love you another way.”

Could I handle that? Hell. I had to. I’d vowed to give her whatever she needed, to be the beginning and end of everything for her.

I set her down and went to the shower, shutting the taps off. Then I moved to the tub, stopped the drain, and started filling it.

“Are you mad?” she asked in a low voice I barely heard over the rush of water.

I looked at her, saw the way her arms crossed her chest and gave away her vulnerability. I told her the truth. “I love you.”

Eva’s lower lip trembled, then curved in a beautiful smile that took my breath away.

I’d once told her I would take her any way I could get her. That was even more true now than it was then. “Come here, angel.”

Her arms dropped to her sides and she came.

The shifting of the bed woke me. Blinking, I registered the sunlight flooding the room. Eva’s face came into focus, haloed by the light and bright with a wide grin.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said.

The night came flooding back to me. The long bath with my wife’s soapy hands running through my hair and over my skin. Her voice as she talked about the wedding. Her sensual laugh as I tickled her in bed. Her sighs and moans as we kissed until our lips were sore and swollen, making out like teenagers who weren’t ready to go all the way.

I won’t lie—sex would’ve taken things to another level. But the night was memorable all the same. It ranked right up there with other all-nighters we’d shared.

Then I remembered where I was and what that meant.

“I slept in the bed.” The realization was like a bucket of cold water dumped over me.

“Yep.” She gave a happy little bounce. “You did.”

To have done so was irresponsible in the worst way. I hadn’t even taken the medicine prescribed to help mitigate the risk.

“Don’t scowl like that,” she chastised, bending down to kiss the space between my brows. “You slept hard. When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

I sat up. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Listen, ace. We’ve got enough to be stressed about. We don’t need to get worked up over things that go right.” She stood. “If you want to be mad about something, be mad at Cary for packing this.”

She shrugged out of the short white robe she was wearing, revealing a tiny dark blue bikini that hugged what little it managed to cover.

“Jesus.” All the blood in my body rushed to my dick. It waved beneath the sheet in hearty appreciation.

Eva laughed, her eyes dropping to where my erection tented the luxuriously thick cotton. “You like.”

Holding her arms out, she turned, showing off the Brazilian cut of the bikini bottom. My wife’s ass was as voluptuous as her tits. I knew she thought she was too curvy, but I couldn’t disagree more. I’d never been one to appreciate overly generous assets on a woman, but Eva changed that for me, as she’d changed so many other things.

I hadn’t a clue what kind of material the bikini was made of, but it was seamless and hugged her skin so perfectly it looked painted on. Thin straps at the neck, hips, and back brought to mind thoughts of tying her up and taking what I needed.

“Come here,” I ordered, reaching for her.

She danced out of reach. Tossing the sheet back, I surged to my feet.

“Down, boy,” she teased, darting around the sofa.

I fisted my cock, stroking it hard from root to tip as I stalked her into the seating area. “That’s not going to work.”

Her eyes sparkled with laughter.

“Eva—”

She snatched something off the back of the chair and ran to the door. “See you downstairs!”

I lunged for her and missed, finding myself facing the back of the slammed door instead. “Damn it.”

I brushed my teeth, threw on swim trunks and a T-shirt, and followed her down. I was the last one to make an appearance, discovering the rest of the group already seated at the kitchen island and eating heartily. A quick glance at the clock told me it was almost noon.

I looked for Eva and found her sitting on the patio with a phone to her ear. She’d covered herself in a strapless white skirt thing. I noted that Monica and Lacey were both dressed similarly, with bathing suits partially hidden by barely-there cover-ups. Like me, Cary, Stanton, and Martin had on trunks and T-shirts.

“She always calls her dad on Saturdays,” Cary said, following my gaze.

I watched my wife for a long minute, looking for any signs of distress. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but she didn’t look upset.