.

.

I slipped out of the hotel suite just after nine, my little black dress slightly wrinkled and my thighs still deliciously sore. Every step reminded me of Richard—how deep he’d been inside me, how many times he’d made me come until my voice was hoarse.

Michael was already back from his business trip, standing in the kitchen in gray sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt, his blond hair still messy from sleep. He looked up and grinned that boyish smile that usually made my heart melt.

“There she is,” he said, pulling me into a warm hug. His arms wrapped around me, safe and familiar. “Missed you, babe. How...