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“Right now, you’re throwing your fucks in my face?” he asked with deceptive quiet.
“The fact I had those fucks is not on you, honey, they’re on your mom,” she returned.
Christ, he hated it when they were arguing, and she was right.
“She ended my marriage,” Wyn continued. “She took you away from me. And you don’t think I have the right to know why?”
“I told you,” he reminded her.
“But you didn’t want to.”
“It hurts you!” he thundered. “Jesus, Wyn, how are you not getting this?”
“You’re not fragile, Remy. I’m not either!” she shouted that last.
“I know!” he bellowed.
“Then stop behaving like I am!” she shrieked. “I am not her!”
“I know that too!” he shouted.
“Then don’t act insulted when I say I don’t know you, Remy. For God’s sake, I just found out you don’t like to cuddle.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
He looked to the ceiling.
“What now?” she snapped.
He looked to her. “I like to cuddle, Wyn. I love being close to you. But think about it.”
“Is this another quiz?” she hissed.
Right, it sucked, but that was valid.
“When did we do that and it didn’t end up with us going at each other?” he asked, but not to make her answer, because he immediately told her. “When your dad died, and two years later, when your mom followed him.”
“You adored them.”
“Yes, I did. But not near as much as you.”
Light dawned, he watched it.
“You were comforting me?” she asked, like she couldn’t believe it.
“Baby, your parents died. Outside bed and outside anything to do with our kids, what’s your favorite thing that I do?”
Her gaze went to the piano and then back to him.
“Play,” she whispered.
“Play,” he agreed.
“Oh my God, Noel was right.”
“Sorry?”
“He told me I needed to pounce on you.”
This meant she told Noel about him.
Remy was not ticked about that. She told Noel everything.
Therefore, he didn’t get into that.
He confirmed, “Yeah, he was right.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Do you want me to pounce on you, um…now?”
“No.”
“No?”
He took the five strides separating them and held her face by her jaw.
“No,” he repeated.
Then he dipped his head and kissed her.
God.
Yes.
Wyn.
It had been too long, and they were them, so it went from a touch on the lips to serious tongue, to her tearing at his shirt in maybe twenty seconds.
He pulled away to yank it off, but he didn’t when she asked, “Is your bedroom really sunken?”
Remy didn’t answer.
He didn’t make a mental note to finally give her a full tour of his house either.
He grabbed her hand and dragged her to his bedroom.
Down two steps, whirling her in front of him, backing her to the bed, then taking her to it by falling into and onto her.
That was far as he got with “pouncing.”
Wyn took over with mouth and hands and nails, eventually rolling him to his back.
This could be about her giving him what he needed in a sensitive, emotional time.
If it was, he could not give fewer fucks.
His wife was right there with her lush body, mass of hair, gorgeous face, talented mouth and hands, and the sting of her nails.
So he took it.
But when she was getting them both naked and was down to her bra and pulling off her jeans, he lent a hand and yanked off his own.
She then moved to climb on his hard cock.
That was when Remy took over, grabbed her hips and pulled her to a different location.
His wife on his tongue for the first time in years, he ground her down on his face.
She helped, rocking against him, her low noises pulsing through his dick.
No matter what, no matter when, from the first time to the last before this when they went at each other in the foyer of their house, she was like this.
She never covered herself to hide her nudity.
She never stole glances to make sure he liked what she was doing.
She was completely into it.
Him.
His.
Everything she did, he got off on.
Everything he did, made her soar.
Not once had it been awkward and hesitant, done by habit, going through the motions.
They’d always been as they were right now.
He could live on the taste of her, the feel of her pussy.
And she could ride his face or take his cock until she stopped breathing.
“Baby, baby,” she whispered urgently. “You.”
She was almost there.
He pulled her off, tossing her to her back, and rolled onto her.
Her hair all over his bed…
Fuck.
Fuck.
He was feeling less emotionally bruised and sensitive by the second.
Holding his eyes, even if hers were dazed, she opened her legs and hooked them around his thighs.
Not breaking their gaze, he took his cock in hand and guided it to her.
“Hurry,” she breathed.
He slid home.
When she closed around him, that was when he closed his eyes.
Wyn glided both her hands up his back and into his hair, and Remy tracked every centimeter and committed it to memory.
