“Are you sure?” I search her eyes. “Because I want you so badly it hurts, but I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”
“I won’t.” Her voice is steady, certain. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long. I’m tired of being afraid.”
I stand up with her still wrapped around me, her legs locking around my waist. “The kids?—”
“Are asleep,” she finishes, grinding against me hard enough to make my vision blur. “Heavy sleepers. Take me to bed, Dex.”
I carry her toward her bedroom, stopping to press her against the hallway wall because I can’t make it another ten feet without kissing her properly. She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow the sound greedily.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
Once inside her room, she slides down my body, immediately reaching for my buttons with shaking hands. I catch her wrists.
“Let me,” I say, voice rougher than I intended.
I guide her to the full-length mirror near her closet, positioning myself behind her. She tenses when she sees our reflection.
“Dex, I don’t—I’m not like those women you usually?—“
“Stop.” I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes in the mirror. “I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”
My hands move to the hem of her jersey—my jersey—and I pause. “Can I?”
She nods, but I can see the uncertainty in her face as I pull the fabric over her head. Standing there in just her bra and jeans, she instinctively moves to cover her stomach.
“Don’t even think about it.” I catch her hands, pulling them away. “These hands stay down unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Dex, I’m a mom. I have stretch marks and?—”
“And you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” I slide my hands around her waist. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me show you what I see.” I reach back to unhook her bra. “Say something for me.”
“What?” She looks confused in the mirror. “Say what to you?”
I press a kiss to her shoulder, “Anything. Just... talk to me.”
She grins mischievously. “Should I call you Daddy Dex like those women in your Instagram comments?”
“Christ, no. Never call me that.” I shudder dramatically. “Those comments give me nightmares.”
She laughs—that low, throaty sound that makes my cock throb painfully. “Poor Dex. Too many puck bunnies?”
“Do it again,” I breathe, my hands tightening on her waist.
“Do what?”
“That laugh. Say my name like you did just now.”
“Dex,” she says, voice dropping to silk. “Like that?”
My knees actually buckle. “Fuck me.”
“I’m trying to,” she says, turning in my arms with this satisfied smile. “Is my voice really?—”
“Your voice brings me to my knees. The way you say my name when you’re not thinking about it. When you’re just... you.”
