Letting Go. Sarah McCarty

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СКАЧАТЬ never got a running start because there was no malice in that grin, just a bone deep satisfaction that was as arousing as it was comforting because it said more than anything else that at least one of them knew what they were doing. And it was completely natural that it was him.

      His jacket whispered a protest as she slid her arms free. His hand cupped her cheek in one of those easy touches that reached all the way to her soul, catching her before she could step away. His hazel eyes were dark in the moonlight. She leaned her cheek into his gloved palm and sighed. “I’m an idiot.”

      His answer was immediate. “Yes, you are, but you’re mine, and I kind of like you this way.”

      She raised her eyebrows. “A neurotic mess?”

      His thumb brushed her mouth and a chuckle quirked his lips before his hand dropped away. “Vulnerable.”

      She held out her hand for her suitcase. “Uh-huh. Well, don’t get used to it.”

      He paused before dragging the cooler out and putting it on the snow-encrusted ground. “I’ll try to keep my appreciation limited to the weekend.”

      She averted her eyes as he settled a brown box on the cooler’s white top. “Thank you.”

      He closed the trunk and hefted the cooler and box. “My pleasure.”

      Becky followed as Marc led the way down the hill to the cabin, admiring the way his jeans clung to his thighs with each step delineating the strength beneath. She wondered if he was thinking the same things she was. She wondered if his cock was hardening as quickly as her pussy was moistening. God! She wanted him. Wanted this. And, she shifted the suitcase as she hurried to keep up, she was not going to allow anything to stop her from obtaining her goal. She might have more than her fair share of inhibitions, but she also had more than her fair share of determination, and of the two qualities, the second was stronger than the first.

      The cabin was cold, the vaulted ceilings and log walls harboring the chill of the outside. She turned up the thermostat on the furnace and set to work on the fire as Marc made the bed and unpacked the food.

      From the corner of her eye, she could see the brown box on the coffee table, looking lost in the vastness of the room. The innocent-looking brown box that held all the sex toys they’d selected together. Anything and everything they’d seen that they thought they might use. It had been tough to ignore the expense, but as it seemed the height of ridiculousness to be prudent when pursuing decadence, she’d conquered her caution to the point of maybe going overboard. She battled an unreasonable urge to toss the throw from the couch over it.

      As if there was anyone here to see. As if Marc was going to have a problem with anything contained in it. The man had adventure in his bones. She was the one with all the good-girls- don’t hang-ups. Heck, judging from his comments as she’d pointed out a few things she’d been interested in and from the confidence with which he’d made his selections, there probably wasn’t anything in the box of which he didn’t have firsthand knowledge. Just not with her.

      And that fast, she added another emotion to the turbulence of the evening. Jealousy that her husband’s past lovers had been more adventurous than she.

      He came up behind her as she stood by the fire. She shivered as he moved her hair aside, baring her neck. The heat of his breath touched her first, moist and tantalizing, brushing across her sensitive nerve endings in an evocative arc.

      “Ready?”

      The question whispered against her neck. Goose bumps sprang up in a silent “Hell, yes,” she couldn’t get past her throat. She tilted her head, inviting a kiss instead, shuddering when he gave it to her. His cock pressed against her buttocks, rock hard and eager while his hands slid down her sleeves until his fingers intertwined with hers.

      She gripped his hands in hers. “As I’ll ever be.”

      He laughed into the curve of her shoulder, sending new goose bumps chasing after the last set, the flick of his tongue encouraging their tingling spread to her breast and nipples. His big hands whispered across the front of her coat, taunting both breasts with the promise of a touch she couldn’t feel, making her strain for any ghost of sensation. The tension in her limbs gathered in her pussy, throbbing with an eagerness that faintly embarrassed her. As if a woman should consider her attraction to her husband a weakness.

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