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My legs were around his hips, and his hard erection was back between my thighs after way too long. A small rock of his hips and I groaned, arching into him.
Oh, God, it had been too long.
He took my hat off and tossed it aside. Without breaking the contact our mouths had on each other, he tugged my shirt free. When his fingers hit my skin, I whimpered.
His fingertips had a delicious roughness to them that I had dismissed before, but I knew now it was from hard work.
The bras I wore these days were nothing like the lacy scraps from when we first married. Between the heat and riding a horse whenever I wanted, what I had on was closer to a sports bra. They were cheaper and took a lot more tough living before they fell apart. I also didn’t care if they got grungy. It was sad when my nice bras turned dingy.
Today, I hated it. Archer’s fingers bumped into my bra like it was a metal chastity belt. But he was persistent—and good with his hands. He didn’t stop tunneling under the fabric until he was cupping a breast.
I arched into him, loving the rough scrape of his skin across mine, the way he teased my nipple to a deliciously painful peak.
I was rocking against him like we were naked and not fully dressed in denim and cotton jersey.
With a growl, he abandoned my nipple to skate his hand down my torso. If he thought the sports bra was unforgiving, my jeans were really unyielding. My legs were spread, pulling the fabric snug against me, and I was squished between him and the bed.
But he didn’t give up. Lifting himself, he created enough space between us to undo the button and unzip me. Then his hand was on bare skin again.
When his fingertip hit my clit, I cried into his mouth. And like he knew the motel walls were too thin to suppress sound, he didn’t let me go.
I rode his finger, desperate to get relief, demanding that my body be filled by him after being empty for so long. I whimpered again, and he adjusted his angle to slide a finger through my heat and into me.
Another groan was swallowed by my husband. I was climbing fast, roaring toward my peak. My climax slammed into me, shaking me from head to toe.
There was a knock on the door. “Housekeeping.”
Archer jerked his head up, but he didn’t let up. I didn’t have time to panic that I was doing way more than kissing my husband. He was stringing my orgasm out.
“We’re good.” His voice was rough.
I clamped my mouth against his shoulder to keep from crying and moaning. There was nothing wrong with people knowing I was having sex with my husband in his motel room, but I wanted to keep this moment between us. I wanted privacy.
A muffled “Thanks” came through the door, and Archer lowered his head, murmuring against my ear, “We’re so damn good.”
I was shaking under him, my body clenching and releasing around his finger. He let me ride it out, holding me.
I realized I was biting him and snapped my head away. “Oh my God,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “I’m so sorry.”
His smug expression matched the satisfied gleam in his eye but didn’t diminish the raging need. “Don’t be.”
I was sorry for biting him. That’d leave a mark. I was also sorry I’d let him do that. I didn’t need a reminder of what it was like with him. That’d cloud my thinking. I couldn’t think clearly when I was touching him.
He was watching me, so I saw when he read what was on my mind. He withdrew his hand and pushed to the side. We were still close enough to be touching, but he propped his head on his other hand.
“You regret what we did?”
I rolled into him; I couldn’t help it. “I should regret it.” I let my hand drift across his hard chest. I’d have loved to see him without his shirt again. It used to be a daily occurrence. “It doesn’t clear anything up, though.”
I trailed my fingers down his abdomen. He had to be hurting. It only seemed fair to return the favor.
He folded his warm hand around mine. “You don’t need to.” He gave me a hint of a smile laced with regret. “If you touch that thing, I won’t want to quit, and I don’t think we’re ready for that.”
He was right. I was letting lust drive my decisions again. That hadn’t worked before, and my heart had been broken.
I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got to keep Norville off your back, and I have to act like this flush is from the heat when I take the tire in. Papa’s fishing buddy works there, and it would be weird.”
He rolled off the bed and held out a hand. I accepted it and tried to ignore the large bulge in his pants. I liked that bulge. I had enjoyed it a lot. But his job was on the line, and as easy as it would be to stay in bed and distract him from it, I wanted him to choose me over his work because he loved me, not because I seduced him.
