When the warmth of his tongue grazed the space behind my ear, then danced down my neck to my collar bone, my eyes rolled into the back of my head. “I missed you, too.”
Jamie released my knee, grasped my hips, and slowly walked me backward to the rickety wood cabin door. With measured slowness, he reached past my hip and flipped the lock on the door. “Do you want me to stop?”
I met his eyes, unblinking. “No.”
We landed against the door with a thump. Slivers of wood prickled my back through my thin t-shirt, so I arched my back to press myself against him for comfort. He brought his lips back to mine, feverishly taking what was his, what had always been his—stopping long enough to roll my shirt up and over my head. With a groan of approval, I returned the favor, ridding Jamie of his sweaty t-shirt before bringing my mouth to his neck, and savoring in the familiar flavor of his skin.
With an effortless swoop, he grabbed my backside, lifting me up so my legs hooked behind his back, then whirled me around to the nearest bunk. After pressing me between his body and one of the tall bed posts, he pulled apart just far enough to smile at me crookedly. He was out of breath, and I felt goose bumps rise across his chest. “I want you, Molly. More than I ever have before.”
I gazed at him. My lips were swollen and I could feel the blood rushing through them. My body literally ached for him, but the image of Mackayla flickered in my mind. I stopped our kiss the night before because of his girlfriend, now I was on the precipice of making love to him, but…
“I can’t,” I whispered. Every nerve ending in my body screamed in torment.
His green eyes widened. “What? I thought you…”
I shook my head, tangling my fingers in the back of his mussed hair. “You’re dating someone. You’re sleeping with someone. I won’t go to bed with you, when you’re—”
“I’m not sleeping with Mackayla.” He turned his head so that he could press a kiss to the palm of my hand. “We haven’t had sex.”
His lips on my palm sent shockwaves up my arm. “What? Why?”
“I couldn’t.” He pressed a kiss to my mouth, warm and lingering. “She tried, invited me in after the last few dates, but I couldn’t.” He faced me, his eyelids heavy, his expression wanting. “I still love my wife.”
I let my head fall back, looking up to the ceiling. “Thank God.”
Together we tumbled onto the lumpy old mattress on the lower bunk, Jamie’s weight pressing against the thin wool blanket enticingly. He slid the straps of my bra down my shoulders, while watching me with sudden patience. “I’ve dreamed about this so many times over the last eighteen months. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything so bad in my life.”
I reached for him. “Then don’t stop,” I told him, arching toward him to find his mouth once more. “Don’t ever stop.”
So he didn’t.
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