Claire would do anything to save the marriage she believes is faltering. Quite literally anything. Even if it means rekindling the outrageous sexual fantasies she’s never been that thrilled will. But luckily for both her and Eli, this time the fantasies are better than before. This time, the fantasies and all they entail are quite literally dazzling.
Staring down at him through a long and quivering moment when they both seemed to be waiting for something that might not yet happen, Claire laughed. Suddenly. Unexpectedly, the sound of it bubbling from her lips the way it had in other days, better days. The kind of spontaneous laughter she knew had been hers before, because her heart kept telling her it had.
"Show me," Eli whispered, his eyes glittering more feverishly…glittering indescribable brandy-rich as the plain deep brown faded from their depths and the fire crept in to claim them.
Laughing along with her, his teeth shone perfectly white and deliciously perfect.
Pale morning light infused their bedroom with a soft-blue stillness flung like a veil over the warmer gold of walls and curtains and satin-smooth polished floor. A stillness so real Claire felt she could hold it in her hand should such become necessary. And in the midst of it, his eyes dared her to go on.
Dared her to do it.
Whatever he thought she might be about to do.
Moving smoothly as if she'd practiced for years and years, Claire rose off the thighs she'd held captive beneath hers. Leaning toward him, she fell to hands and knees, her breasts dangling free within easy reach of hands he didn't immediately lift from the pillows upon which he'd propped himself. Her breasts were fuller now, rounder since she'd had the twins, as was her entire body. Fuller, rounder, more lush and, she knew just from the way he looked up at her, more desirable.
Taking her time, she moved toward him. Slinking like the lovely cat she sometimes imagined herself to be, she moved slowly. She'd fixed her gaze upon him in the same way that hungry beast might regard a delicious morsel. And she never let it waver.
Still motionless, seeming almost mesmerized, Eli stared back.
He wanted to lift his hands. Claire could feel the want hovering in heated summer morning air between them. She could feel the ache of it in her own hands. The hardened, burning ache of hands that needed to lift. Needed to graze her breasts with peaked knuckles, to lift their weight with sweat-slicked palms. Hands that needed to…
A fevered wind swept through the open window a few feet from the bed, bringing with it inspiration that seized her in the same instant Eli's hands managed a feeble twitching.
She should deny him.
He'd finally found strength and mobility. In another instant he would be able to seize what his eyes said he wanted.