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“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Tara whispered.
“I’ve never stopped.” Sam’s hold tightened as he murmured against her ear. “You’re my world.”
Oh, those words. Tara wanted to crawl inside some fantasy world and hold tight. Forgetting all of this nightmare, rewinding to two years ago would be ideal. But she’d never run from anything in her life. She’d always faced tragedy head-on, from starting the support group with her friends in order to deal with grief of her past to pushing Sam away when he’d needed more help.
But she’d been strong for so long. Seeking comfort right now wouldn’t hurt anything...would it?
Sam kissed her head and Tara closed her eyes. “Don’t be nice right now. In fact, we’d both be better off if you left me alone.”
“You’ve been alone too long, Tara.”
He smoothed the hair from the side of her face and rested his cheek against hers. Now he did meet her reflection in the mirror and she couldn’t look away. There was raw desire mixed with compassion on his face as he stared at her. He hadn’t looked at her in such a way in...too damn long.
Tara felt her grip on the situation slip. Was she even trying to hold on at this point?
She glanced at the closed door. What if, for just this moment, she left everything, her worries and fears, on the other side of that door? What if she took comfort from her husband? She was human and she wanted to feel something other than vulnerable. She wanted to feel in control of something, damn it.
“Sam.”
She shifted to turn in his arms. Her butt hit the edge of the vanity and his arms came down, caging her against him. That bare chest was but a breath away.
For a brief moment, she hesitated, but Tara was done denying herself, denying them. Her fingertips slid up his abs; the muscles beneath her touch tightened as he sucked in a breath. She glanced from her hands to his eyes, instantly seeing the fire he fought. The clenched jaw and thin lips were a testament to his self-control—and she was about to shatter it.
“Don’t hold back,” she murmured, her hands trailing over his shoulders.
Sam shook his head. “As much as I want this, I don’t think—”
“Good. Don’t think.” Tara threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his lips toward hers. “And don’t give me time to think, either.”
Chapter Thirteen
She covered his mouth with hers, and that’s when something exploded inside him. He really should be putting up more of a fight, but he was done resisting both his needs and hers. Besides, Tara clearly knew what she wanted and thankfully she’d chosen him—at least for now.
And now was all he was going to focus on.
Sam’s hands flew over her, ridding her of her cover-up and peeling off that one-piece suit. He took a moment to simply stare. Because no matter how much of a hurry he was in, he wanted to take a minute to admire the hell out of his sexy wife.
Her fingers curled inside the waistband of his shorts, and with gentle movements she eased them over his hips until they fell. He kicked the unwanted garment aside as he fisted his hands in her hair and aligned his body against hers.
Joint moans filled the small space. Sam would almost have been content to continue kissing her and feeling her bare body pressed to his...almost.
Her arms circled his neck, and he lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the countertop. He rested his forehead against hers.
“Be sure,” he commanded. “There’s no regrets after this.”
Her eyes met his as she tipped her head back. “No regrets, Sam. But no promises, either.”
He hesitated, not wanting to cheapen what they were sharing now. What was the proper term for a one-night stand with his wife?
Her fingertips slid over the tattoo of the door. She deserved to know what that was, deserved to know the meaning. He was honestly shocked she hadn’t figured it out. He’d chosen that particular spot so he’d see it each day he looked in the mirror. He needed that visual reminder.
Her eyes met his and he knew she wanted to ask about his new art, but now wasn’t the time.
Sam gripped behind her knees and jerked them up over the outside of his thighs. She might not want promises, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t silently make them.
