Page 90 of My Husband Problem

And possibly most shockingly of all, I feel Astrid’s fingers stroking through my hair.

I take a quick inventory as I gain more consciousness.

My cheek is resting right over her belly button, and I realize that my body wash must be much stronger than her lighter citrus one because mine is all I can smell, even up against her like this. And I am very aware of where my nose and mouth are. Her dress has hiked up even higher now, the hem just covering her panties, leaving her legs entirely bare. My left hand curls as I realize it is under her right thigh, and my right hand is wrapped around her left hip.

I am definitely holding her intimately.

But just as I am contemplating the need to move before she wakes up, I hear a low, “Mmmm.”

It’s more of a hum, or dare I say, a moan than a word. But it doesn’t sound like one of protest. Her thighs tense slightly, and I loosen my hold, but she simply shifts, her thighs parting.

My breath lodges in my chest, and I feel like my entire body hardens.

This is fucking inappropriate.

“God, Declan.”

The breathy words make me freeze, then I slowly turn my head to look up her body.

As my head moves, her fingers tighten slightly in my hair.

“Keep going,” she says softly.

Her eyes are shut, but her neck is arched, and I feel her hips lift against me.

What is happening?

“Astrid?” I say roughly.

“Please.”

She wiggles, and when I shift to give her more space, her thighs part further, her knee bending and falling open.

I almost swallow my tongue. Now I can see up to the junction of her thighs, and that silky, warm skin moving against my hand makes fire lick from my palm throughout my body.

My cock hardens, and I swallow with difficulty.

“What do you want?” I asked gruffly.

“Touch me. Please.”

Jesus. We just went from zero to sixty. I guess that tool belt did even more work than I thought.

But there isn’t a single thing on this fucking planet that I wouldn’t give this woman. And this? I’ve only been dying to give her this for over a year.

I thought she’d been avoiding me because she didn’t want this. I thought she hated me and being stuck with me. I never would’ve pushed for this.

But if she wants me? If she wants this? I will gladly give her this in every way over and over again. Making this woman feel good, whether it’s home repairs, saving her from enthusiastic otters, or just making her smile, gives me a rush. Making her feel good physically? That’s my idea of heaven.

“Anything you want,” I tell her, my voice raspy. “You’re the boss. Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me,” she says, nearly panting. Her legs shift again, widening. Her fingers tighten in my hair. Her other hand runs up and down the inside of one thigh, then drifts over the front of her panties. “Here.”

Jesus Christ. Every fucking dream come true is right here in front of me.

I lean in and kiss her inner thigh, right where she just stroked.

She lets out a shuddering breath. “God, yes, Declan.”