He reached out and skimmed his thumb over Laura’s cheekbone, under her eyes. The dark circles she’d had from nursing the baby the first few weeks had disappeared, and she now had a healthy glow. Her blond hair had a natural wave it hadn’t before, and it was pinned up in a messy bun that made her look gorgeous. Did she have any idea what she did to him? He doubted it. “So there’s just you and me and a quiet house for…” He reached out, sliding his hand down Laura’s side as she leaned on the desk beside him.
“What are you doing?” she teased as he put his tea down, and she straddled his lap, her arms linked around his neck.
He couldn’t get over how well she fit him, how she moved against him, a touch, a breath. Giving herself to him was a gift he had once taken for granted. What a fool he’d been. Never again would he disrespect Laura or be ungrateful for all she had given him: his children, her love, herself. “Touching my wife,” he said. Maybe it was arrogant and selfish, but he could only hold himself back from loving Laura for so long. He’d been patient for months during her late pregnancy and after, and he was making up for lost time, needing to bury himself in her heat, in her love, and connect with her.
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