Special Delivery. Riki Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ wild night bites the dust. She eased his legs onto the bed, then covered him up with an afghan.

      She knew sleep would not be coming anytime soon, so she propped herself up against the headboard with her laptop and called up one of her clients’ Web sites, getting a start on the updates she had planned to add tomorrow. Her mind kept wandering, though, her eyes straying to the man asleep beside her. Finally she abandoned her work and sat back, watching the deep rise and fall of Michael’s chest in the darkness.

       I can do this. I can deal. Sacrifice is part of what makes a marriage work, right? But I miss making love with my gorgeous husband.

      Before she married Michael, Megan had been a virgin, such an innocent that she didn’t even know what an orgasm felt like. The breathtaking sensation of taking flight on the wings of sweet ecstasy, being overwhelmed by it, screaming with the sheer delight of it…he had introduced her to that, and so much more. He had shown her that sex wasn’t merely a joining of bodies, but an unending discovery of sensual joys and emotions she never knew existed. Now she couldn’t live without it. She enjoyed it. She craved it. And oh, how she ached for more.

      The elevator stopped on the thirty-first floor. Megan watched the doors open.

       I should bail now, while I have the chance.

      Two men squeezed past her to exit.

       I’m not moving. Why am I not moving?

      Another man boarded.

       It’s now or never. Here I go…safety is just two steps away…

      The doors slid shut.

       I must be totally nuts.

      The new guy zeroed in on Megan immediately, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her curves as he maneuvered past her to get to the floor buttons. For the gazillionth time, she felt stripped bare. Sure, she had dressed this way on purpose, but for the benefit of only one man. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be running this gauntlet.

       Note to self: Kill Jeannie for talking me into this…

       Twenty-four hours ago

      Jeannie selected a fortune cookie. “Hon, this is way worse’n you think it is.”

      Megan stopped picking at her lunch and regarded her best friend. “What, I’ll be psychologically scarred for life because I haven’t gotten any for three weeks?”

      “Don’t you get it? This is just the beginnin’!” Jeannie declared, her concern bringing out her honey-magnolia drawl. “It’s only the reason my folks got divorced.”

      Megan dropped a chopstick. “Divorced?”

      “Dad was a workaholic,” Jeannie explained. “Gone before dawn, not home ‘til dark, workin’ weekends, always tired. He an’ Mom hardly ever did anything together, an’ they never talked—”

      Megan winced. “This is just like Michael…”

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