Reconciled for Easter (12 page)

***

It was almost ten o’clock when they returned to the house.

Mia had been on an excited high the whole time, and Thomas had been charming and funny. Abigail had a remarkably good time—such a good time that she hadn’t hurried along the dinner, even though they were out much later than she usually allowed Mia to be.

While Abigail and Thomas had been drinking coffee, Mia had finally crashed. Then she’d fallen sound asleep in the car on the way home.

Abigail unlocked and opened the front door—then held it as Thomas entered too, carrying a sleeping Mia in his arms.

Without speaking, they went to Mia’s bedroom. After Thomas laid her gently on her bed, he started unbuckling her patent leather shoes while Abigail carefully pulled off the dress. She was able to get Mia in her nightgown without waking her, and Thomas turned off the light before they left the room.

“My mother called on the way home,” Thomas murmured. “I better call her back to see what she needed.”

Abigail nodded absently. She’d had a glass of wine with dinner and a very indulgent chocolate dessert. She was feeling deliciously relaxed and still far too pleased with the world to take off her dress yet. So she wandered into the living room and slipped off her shoes. She paced restlessly in stockinged feet for a minute until she decided to turn on some music.

She kept the volume low, but she found something with a rhythmic, sensuous sound that seemed to match her mood.

Looking out the window at the small-town street at night, she sketched a few steps, feeling the need to dance, to do something.

She enjoyed the music alone for a few minutes until suddenly a strong arm slipped around her waist and turned her around.

Gasping in surprise, her eyes flew up to Thomas’s face. He’d pulled her into a dance position, his arm around her waist. Immediately relaxing and falling into step with him, Abigail moved her good hand up to his shoulder and started to sway her hips with his.

Her broken arm was a little awkward at first, but soon it didn’t matter. She and Thomas moved together naturally, intuitively. They’d danced occasionally when they’d been together, but never in the living room without shoes.

Abigail loved it. It was a perfect outlet for her restlessness and her vaguely sensual mood. Thomas’s eyes were shadowed since she hadn’t turned on the overhead light, but his gaze never left her face.

She felt close to him—after three weeks of living together, after his being there for her in such intimate ways, after his generosity and consideration. And so it felt perfectly natural to move to his rhythm, to press her body against his, to synchronize their breathing.

Thomas’s hands had been at her waist, but gradually they slipped down further. It didn’t feel sleazy or presumptuous. She loved the feel of his hands on her bottom, gently guiding her rhythm. And the lean, hard line of his chest felt delicious as her breasts rubbed against it. The sound of the music seemed to mingle with the physical sensations to sweep Abigail away in a sensuous wave.

Eventually, everything felt so good that she dropped her head back and closed her eyes, arching slightly against the heat of his body. And it took her a minute to recognize that Thomas’s hands had changed positions again. They’d hiked up the fabric of her dress and were caressing the back of her thighs, just where her stockings met skin.

Thomas's hands were also easing her pelvis into his. The hard bulge she felt at the front of his pants seemed natural too, seemed one more tantalizing feature of the entire experience.

And when his head bent down and his mouth started to move across the exposed skin at the side of her neck, she didn’t even question it. She wanted it. Wanted to feel him like that.

When his teeth scraped lightly against her skin, she was suddenly conscious of how aroused she was. Deeply aroused, the pressure pulsing to the beat of the music.

She moaned softly, unable to stifle the pleasure of feeling so incredibly good.

Thomas’s hips jerked slightly against her, an uncontrolled move that suddenly jarred her out of her haze.

“What are we doing?” she gasped, still unable to pull away from the warm strength of his body.

“What do you think?” Thomas murmured, throaty and erotic. Once again, he gently pushed his pelvis against hers, and Abigail’s intimate muscles clenched in response.

Thomas leaned down again to mouth the side of her neck and said against her skin, “I believe this is foreplay.”

Abigail felt a flash of terror, followed by a swell of the deepest need she could remember.

Having sex with Thomas was exactly what she wanted to do. He was her husband. She felt close to him again. She wanted to feel closer still.

But it also made her heart race in anxiety.

Thomas raised his head to meet her eyes—his gaze hot, hungry, so familiar. “Abigail? Do you want to?”

She shifted against him, loving the feel of his hard body, the evidence of his desire for her against her middle. “I don’t know,” she admitted breathlessly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but just then his phone rang from the table beside the couch.

At the sound, Abigail jerked in surprise. Then she released a sigh of relief. “You better get it. It might be your mom again.”

Thomas shook his head, his hands still palming her bottom. “It can wait. She was just asking about some plans for Easter dinner.”

She pulled away, needing some space to figure out what she wanted to do. “Get it.”

He looked like he was going to object, but then he obviously changed his mind. Pressing his lips together in a tight line, he walked over to pick up his phone, moving a little more stiffly than normal.

Abigail fled, hurrying to her bedroom so she could get away from Thomas for a few minutes and figure things out. There, she sat on the edge of her bed and breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind, calm her physical excitement, and recover her senses.

Obviously, she wanted to have sex with Thomas. But she didn’t know if she was ready yet, and she didn’t know what it would mean for the future.

They had to be so careful. They just couldn’t move too quickly.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat and mulled over possibilities. Maybe just a minute. Maybe a few. Then Thomas tapped on her door and let himself in without waiting for her response.

He walked over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. He looked at her with quiet, intense eyes but didn’t say anything.

He was still aroused. She could see it in the slight flush on his cheeks, the coiled tension in his posture, the bulge at the front of his trousers. She was still aroused too, even her confusion failing to quench the desire.

“Thomas,” she said, her voice a little strangled, “I do want to. I’m just…scared.”

He turned toward her more fully. Once again, his mouth opened, as if he were about to make his case. Then something flickered over his expression, and he gave his head a slight shake.

Instead of speaking, he took her face in his hands with an urgency that surprised her. He leaned into a hungry kiss.

She responded, couldn’t help but respond. His mouth was passionate, searching, strangely needy. And his hands hadn’t released her face, holding it like she was precious. And it was the need she sensed in him more than the desire that dissolved the last of her resistance.

She moaned deep in her throat and twined her good arm around his neck. She opened to the stroke of his tongue, the pressure of her arousal pulsing up through her spine to overwhelm her entire being.

Gently, but with an ardor that surprised her, Thomas eased her back onto the bed as they kissed, and she adjusted to pull her legs up so she was stretched out beneath him.

He was careful about resting his weight on her—probably out of consideration to her recently healed ribs—but she loved the feel of his firm, heated body above her, as much as she loved the way his mouth ravenously plundered hers.

Her right arm sprawled out to the side, and she felt at a slight disadvantage since she only had one arm with which to hold him against her, stroke his body. But she rubbed her good hand down the line of his spine until she could clutch at the tight muscles of his ass, trying to push his pelvis down harder against hers.

When he finally tore away from the kiss, they were both panting and slightly dazed. They stared at each other for several seconds, and Abigail was astonished by the degree of hot need visible in his eyes.

“Thomas,” she gasped, arching her neck as he lowered his face to trail kisses down her throat.

He hummed against her pulse point, the vibrations making her shiver. Then he raised himself enough to take her breasts in his hands, squeezing them lightly before he caressed down to her hips over the thin fabric of her dress. He’d started to push up her skirt when he leaned down into another kiss.

She sucked his tongue into her mouth and adjusted her hand so she could stroke his hair.

He groaned softly into the kiss, a helpless, erotic sound that thrilled her, causing her to grind her hips up against his.

“Baby,” Thomas murmured, his voice muffled as he gave her lower lip a little tug with both of his. “You feel so good.”

She arched up into him, as affected by his words as she was by his touch. He’d bunched her skirt up around her waist, and one of his hands had dipped under the lace of her pretty white panties.

“Thomas.” She still caressed his head, her fingertips brushing along the curve and ridges of his skull through his hair. “I want my dress off. You need to help.”

He gave a choked laugh, pulling up again with a smile she hadn’t expected. “So now you’re finally asking for my help?”

Despite her deepening desire, which compelled her to squirm her hips against the sensations, she couldn’t help but giggle too. “Please?”

He was already sweating a little, perspiration glistening at the center of his forehead and on the sides of his jaw. But his hands were controlled and gentle as he eased her shoulders up so he could reach the zipper of her dress.

When he’d unzipped it, she lifted her hips so he could pull it up past her upper body and over her head. He had to pause to edge the sleeve over her cast, but soon he’d dropped the dress over the side of the bed.

He stared down at her body for a minute, even though he’d seen it any number of times over the last three weeks. She wore her lace panties and a matching bra with her thigh-high stockings.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said thickly, leaning down to mouth his way from her throat to the top of her breasts. When he took a nipple in his mouth through her bra, Abigail gasped at a jolt of pleasure and tried to push her chest up toward his face.

He suckled for a while, fondling her other breast with his hand. And soon Abigail was moaning helplessly and trying to wrap her leg around his body to get some friction where she needed it.

“Thomas, you’re driving me crazy.” Despite her words, she still had her hand on his head and unconsciously pushed it toward her breast.

He moved further down her body, mouthing a sensitive spot on her side. He kissed along her belly until he’d reached the edge of her panties.

Shameless and eager, she bucked her hips up toward him, her arousal throbbing now and clenching with excitement as his mouth got closer and closer to where she wanted to feel it.

He nuzzled her through her panties, sliding his hands up to cup and squeeze her breasts.

“Thomas.” She couldn’t keep her pelvis still and tried to grind it against his face. She was so wet she knew he’d feel it even through her panties. “Please!”

His lips moved deliciously against the lace until he’d somehow managed to find her clit. He applied some skillful pressure, the fabric adding another layer of stimulation.

To her astonishment, Abigail felt an orgasm swell up after about thirty seconds, and she thrashed her hips beneath his mouth as waves of pleasure sliced through her. Biting her lip, she managed to stifle the sounds of her release, making only a few broken mews.

She was gasping as a flush of relaxation washed over her when Thomas raised his head and moved higher up her body. His face was strained, and a sheen of perspiration covered his face, but she saw a gleam of something familiar in his eyes.

“Don’t say it,” she warned him, feeling more pleased than embarrassed at having come so quickly.

“I didn’t say a thing.” His lips twitched slightly, however, as he gazed down at her sated face and sprawled body.

“It had nothing to do with any particular skill of yours,” she added, just to keep up her end of the conversation. “I’ve had a long dry spell.”

Thomas chuckled as he pressed a soft kiss on her mouth. “I see.”

“There’s no call for smugness here.” Despite her tart tone, her hand stroked his back and head, unable to get enough of the feel of him, even through the fabric of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You sound rather smug to me.” After another kiss, she pushed him up gently, feeling another swell of arousal growing between her legs. “You definitely need to take off your clothes now.”

He pulled up immediately and started to hurriedly unbutton his shirt. He undressed in record time. If Abigail hadn’t been overwhelmed with a new blaze of desire at the sight of his naked body, she would have been amused by the speed of his disrobing.