Broken Open. Lauren Dane

swallowed her hesitance and said, “Something just occurred to me. Hit me a little harder than I’d expected it to.”

      “Your husband?”

      What a weird conversation to be having and yet it was okay to share with him. So she did. “I was just thinking I hadn’t had a man up here. Ever.”

      He sat next to her on the bed, leaning his weight back on an arm as he looked her over. “He died when?”

      “Four and a half years ago.”

      “It’s been years since you’ve been with anyone?” His voice got a little thready and it made her smile, even through the memories.

      “Good lord, no.”

      She loved sex. Loved it. When Eric had been alive they’d had it often until he’d started to get sick. Looking back it should have been a clue but she hadn’t seen it. Maybe if she had sooner it could have made a difference.

      That was definitely not a road she’d be going down.

      He’d been waiting for her to keep speaking. Knowing there’d be more. And there was, of course. “I just don’t here.”

      He rumbled in his chest, again, approval and agreement. It was a good, solid sound and she liked it a lot.

      “I do what I need to do but I don’t bring it here.” Said in her head, those words made her feel tough and independent. Out loud they made her sad that she’d lived like that and considered it enough.

      “This is a seriously sexy bedroom.” He shrugged, not getting worked up at what she’d said. “Their loss.”

      He wasn’t going to push about Eric. About anything. She breathed a little easier.

      She swung herself around to straddle his lap. The surprised pleasure on his features thrilled her.

      “That was sort of a boner killer, huh?”

      “The stuff you say. It just shoots from your mouth. It’s awesome.” He writhed a little, stroking his totally not dead boner against her. Where only a thin layer of cotton and his jeans separated them.

      “You might want to know this, about my boner, that is. It takes an awful lot to kill it. And frankly, you’re so delicious I’m not sure it can be done when I’m looking at you, much less when you’re in my lap, those gorgeous breasts just right in front of me, the heat of your pussy against my cock. With all you bring it’d take a nuclear bomb to kill.”

      This was happy in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. It rushed through her as she soaked it in. She hadn’t even realized how starved she’d been for this. Not just sex, but zing. That connection with someone that lifts them into a totally different category in your life.

      Bittersweet pleasure bloomed through her as she leaned down and buried her face in his neck as she’d been craving for hours. She smiled against the skin right where it met his shoulder and took a deep breath.

      His fingers on her sides tightened and she again thought about the size of his hands. Also big there.

      He held her, fingers spread against the fabric of her dress, but he seemed to burn through the material to scald her skin.

      She pulled back so she could look at him and right away she was smiling because Sharon and Michael Hurley really did make four stellar human beings in the looks, sex appeal and charisma department.

      His grin slid from amused into sensual confidence and promise. Like he hit a switch, though she knew it wasn’t put on. She’d seen his stage persona and how he acted with other people. She knew this heat between them was totally real.

      It was more that all this simmered beneath a surface he worked very hard to keep intact. He drew that away sometimes to let her see to the heart of his emotions and that made her sort of...gooey. It flattered her that he’d share so much intimacy. It was erotic. Simple and so powerful.

      She shivered and he reached up to pull her back down to him. Once he was near enough, he stretched up to kiss her chin and then her neck.

      He held her as he licked over her collarbone, which she’d never considered exciting but clearly Ezra had some sort of collarbone secret because it worked. One of her hands fisted in the coverlet where she’d leaned her weight as he pretty much set off fireworks by kissing her freaking collarbone.

      * * *

      SHE LET OUT a moan that echoed through her body straight up his cock, which was already hard to the point of pain.

      He slid a palm up her back to where her dress was tied and paused a moment to be sure she was still with him. That’s when she undulated, grinding herself against his dick. Close enough he felt the heat of her.

      She sat up above him so he moved to sit, as well, holding her in his lap as they perched on the edge of her bed.

      Two or three seconds and he peeled the dress away from the most incredible breasts he’d ever seen. And—not that he’d ever say it out loud in the same state as Tuesday—he’d seen enough breasts to be somewhat of an expert.

      So he couldn’t be blamed for being focused on the tight, dark nipples capping some seriously fine C cups through the sheer peach-colored material of a bra that also fastened around her neck. Clever.

      “That was unexpected. But I like it.” He bent his head to press his lips to the left curve of her cleavage before he popped the back open and got rid of the bra. “I like this even more.”

      He took her breasts in his hands and she sucked in a breath, her hands braced on his shoulders as she arched her back.

      “Can’t lie—I like that, too,” she gasped out as he tugged on her nipples.

      He needed more. More access. More everything.

      He half stood, bringing her with him and spun, dropping her on her back on her bed before settling between her thighs.

      That’s when he finally noticed the dragonfly tattooed on her belly, just beneath and between her breasts. An art nouveau design with an Alphonse Mucha flair in delicate, simple lines.

      “Beautiful.” He licked over it and up the bottom swell of her left breast. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding him in place.

      He delighted in her responses. The way her skin, nearly bronze in the low light, pebbled up as he licked over it. The sounds she made would never let him misunderstand what she liked and expected. A soft, ragged moan of pleasure, an impatient huff, a pleading sigh. She tugged a little harder than necessary when he did something she didn’t like and arched into him when he hit a good spot.

      There was something so fearless and fierce about her, about the way she liked what she liked and demanded it. It was a sort of full-tilt sensual experience, but it was real and raw and made him hot all over. It fed that gnawing hunger that drove him so hard he was dizzy with it.

      Everything about her pressed against him in the best sort of way. The air smelled of her, of that unique warm, spicy floral scent she wore. Of her sex. Of her skin. He came to attention when he realized he’d be leaving his scent all over her things. Yes, he liked that a lot.

      Her body spread out on her bed excited his senses as he took her in. She was tall. Powerful. He loved all the juxtaposition she came with. Athletic but not so much she didn’t still have the swell at her hips, the curves and feminine abundance that made his mouth water. She might dress up and wear heels, but her hands were those of a woman who used them to work.

      He’d seen the jewelry she made and the work she’d framed. Tuesday was a woman who loved creating beautiful things and he could totally relate. She was bold and strong and vibrant even as she was also cool and elegant and soft.

      Confident in a way most of the women he’d been with in the past couldn’t get near. And yet vulnerable. The whole of her was everything he craved and worried about at the same time.

      She’d