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As her orgasm waned, he slowed the pulsing pace of his fingers inside her pussy and gentled the kiss.

When they parted, he found her eyes clear and focused on his face.

“I want more,” she demanded. She was tenacious, he’d give her that.

Hank shook his head. “No. I told you. I’m not fucking you tonight.”

“Why not?” Her tone was pure spoiled child.

“You need time to think about this. To decide if I’m what you want.”

“I can answer that right now, Hank. I want you. A lot. Very, very badly.”

Rather than respond, he stepped away from her. Macie was completely naked, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The kitchen had been chilly when they’d first arrived, but now it felt like a sauna.

His cock was rock hard and aching, but he ignored it. He’d take care of his own needs later—with his hand. It wasn’t something he was particularly looking forward to, considering how tight and hot and tempting Macie’s pussy was, but he’d do it.

“You look pretty standing there.”

She seemed to recall her nudity, but—brave woman—didn’t attempt to cover up or hide. If anything, her back stiffened, thrusting her breasts out in a way that almost had him changing his mind about dragging her to his bedroom to have his way with her.

To strengthen his resolve, he imagined the future he longed for. Texting Macie to let her know he was coming in from the field and bidding her to strip. Walking in, hot and sweaty from a long day’s work, to find her naked and waiting for him with an ice-cold beer. He’d cuddle her on his lap, playing with her as they talked about their day. Then he’d take her—on the couch, in the shower, on the kitchen table, in his king-size bed.

Most times they’d be alone, but sometimes he’d invite Porter to join them.

He wondered how Macie would feel about him sharing her with his friend. It wasn’t something Hank planned to do often, but he couldn’t deny the pleasure he found in watching another man bring his woman to climax.

Porter had served as his foreman for nearly two decades. A few years earlier, before Sharon fell ill again, they’d taken her to bed together a handful of times. It had actually been Sharon who’d initiated the threesome, confiding to Hank once that she often fantasized about having a ménage.

For her birthday, he and Porter had planned to surprise her. Hank hadn’t been sure at first how he would feel about another man fucking his wife, and there was no question, Porter was the only man he trusted enough to share her with.

It had been Hank and Porter who’d gotten the surprise—both of them shocked by how much they’d loved it. Their original intention had been a one-night fling, but the three of them hadn’t been able to resist doing it again on occasion. Sharon had enjoyed it as well, but shortly after that, the disease reappeared. It took over, her body weak and the pain too great, so they’d eschewed sex altogether.

He wanted to try it again. With Macie. Given her uninhibited responses to his touches tonight, something told him she’d love the experience as much as he and Porter would.

“Are you thinking about Sharon?”

Macie’s question pulled him out of his reverie. Shit. He had been. Just not in a way he could make Macie understand.

His lack of response seemed to supply her with the answer.

She smiled compassionately. “It would be weird if you weren’t. I mean, you two were married a long time. I figure it’s been at least two decades since you’ve had sex with a woman who wasn’t Sharon, right?”

He nodded, stepping closer so he could engulf her in his embrace.

She wrapped her arms around him, her voice muffled as she spoke against his chest. “Like I said before, she and I are as different as night and day. I understand if you’ve realized…if you think you’ve made a mistake in…” She paused and he pulled away, unhappy with the direction her thoughts were taking. She’d misread everything.

Hank cupped her cheeks, forced her to hold his gaze. “Stop it. I’m not looking for a Sharon clone. I loved my wife, Macie. I always will. But people don’t go through life loving just one person. I was thinking about her, and I’m sorry about that. But I promise you, I wasn’t comparing and I wasn’t feeling guilty. If anything, I’m excited—for the first time in a damn long time—about what my future holds.”

“And what’s that?”

“You.”

Chapter 3

“Well. Somebody got laid last night.”

Macie glanced up from the sink behind the bar to find her friends Amanda and Brandi staring at her. She gave them a quizzical look. “What?”