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My heart hammers in my chest like I’m about to lose my virginity. No, I was high for that event; I don’t think I was this… I don’t even know what.

“More like I want to feel it.” She pushes to her knees beside me.

“Are you sure?”

She gives me a lazy, sexy smile. “Something tells me this is the first time you’re denying sex to me… to any woman.”

I stand up. “You’re the only woman, and I’d never deny you anything.”

I unbuckle my belt and lower the zipper, the energy around us zapping with chemistry and anticipation. I lower the waistband of my briefs, and my cock, already covered in pre-cum, springs out. I give it a rough tug, unreasonably pleased with her admiring reaction.

She shuffles closer on her knees and starts unbuttoning my shirt. With every inch of exposed skin, she takes her time discovering. With her lips. Her fingers. Her heated gaze.

Her touch is new and familiar at the same time. My cock is painfully hard, but I don’t dare move. It’s a strange feeling, letting someone lead.

It’s heady as well.

Letting her take the lead and admire my body, decide the pace and the extent of her exploration should feel emasculating, but here, I’m learning from this woman—from my wife—how surrendering is equally powerful.

She pushes my jacket and my shirt off my shoulders. The fire is hot on my back, but it doesn’t match the scorching sensation of her gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.

I want to return the compliment, but I’m choked up.

She wraps her hand around my cock and looks at me through hooded eyes. “Can I?”

A shudder rakes through me at her touch. “It’s yours, baby; it’s always been yours.”

I wrap my hand around hers, and her breath hitches.

“It’s always been yours.” I squeeze around my girth, her hand soft but firm under my palm. “As has been my heart, my soul, my every fucking thought.”

She pulls her hand a bit like she wants to retreat, but I don’t let her. I move our hands along my shaft.

“You really did love me?”

I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but I answer it anyway. “No, Saar, I didn’t love you. I still very much do.”

I continue giving myself a hand job with our joint hands, barely hanging to any remaining control. I don’t want to blow yet.

“But I feel like I’m someone else.” She puts her other hand on my heart, probably feeling how it beats like a spooked animal.

It’s a simple move, and it may just be to maintain balance, but it feels like so much more.

I kiss her lips gently. Fuck, I miss her. “I would love any version of you. I probably loved the Morrigan’s version of you without even knowing. And, baby, you might be a bit lost, but you’re still you.”

“I don’t quite know who that is.”

I don’t know if it’s her or me who starts moving faster, and my cock gets harder, if that’s even possible.

“You will discover yourself again. And if you let me be a part of that journey, there is one part of your identity I can offer you.” My words come out choppy, the release building up.

She tilts her head in question. “What identity?”

“Mine,” I grit out and seize her lips. The kiss is sloppy and quick as pressure builds at the base of my spine. “My wife.”

The world stills as I spill ropes of white into our hands, on her dress, and my stomach. My knees shake, and I rest one on the seat beside her, finding support.