CHAPTER TWENTY #2
His mouth traces a slow, dangerous path down my body, every stop leaving me breathless. He worships every inch of me, his lips exploring, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My body arches instinctively, begging for him to reach that one spot that will make me surrender.
His touch reaches the place that unravels me completely and replaces my breath with a moan that I can’t hold back. Everything inside me gives way. I am lost to him, to the heat, to the moment.
My body answers before I can stop it. Every nerve lights up at once. I don’t try to hide it as my hand gets lost in his hair and pushes his further onto me.
I tremble, caught between the sweet pleasure and the calm that follows. He lifts himself slowly onto me, a knowing glint in his eyes. His steady breath grounds me as the world slowly pieces itself back together.
We lay there, tangled and breathless, I’m trembling from the intensity of it all.
My heart is pounding, my skin is electric, and every nerve ending is alive with memory and sensation.
He’s still close, holding me, whispering soft, low words that make me shiver, and I realise that I’ve never felt so wanted, so seen, so completely, utterly alive.
Even lying there afterward, with his arms wrapped around me and our breaths slowly returning to normal, I feel it; the pull, the tension, the desire that isn’t fully spent, that lingers, that hums between us like a secret only we share.
Every glance, every brush of skin against skin, every whispered word is a thread tying me to him, and I know I’ll chase it, again and again, for as long as he’ll let me.
Dan finally pulls back, sitting up and stretching, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances over my body one last time. “Wow,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You really take my breath away.”
I’m lying there, cheeks still flushed, chest heaving, trying to catch my own rhythm. “Uh-huh,” I manage, smirking “And that was incredible.”
He stands, running a hand through his hair, and I start to sit up too, feeling slightly lightheaded. I scramble around, looking for my clothes which seem to be scattered all around the room and yet, my underwear seems to be missing.
“Where’s my...” I blink. “Dan. Seriously?” My voice is a mix of shock and laughter. There they are. My knickers, dangling from his mouth, and his eyes are sparkling with ridiculous amusement.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, laughing so hard I almost fall back onto the bed. “Give those back, you idiot!”
He grins, finally letting me retrieve them from his mouth before pulling me into a tight hug, laughing against my hair. “I found them,” he says, voice low and teasing.
I wrap my arms around him, laughing until my stomach hurts, and mutter, “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yep,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. “But you love me anyway.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop smiling. “Unfortunately for me… yeah, I do.”
When we finally reemerge from the bedroom, I notice how everything has changed.
I feel lighter, bolder, like I’m walking on air.
I glance at him, and there’s that same smirk, that knowing look that tells me we both feel it.
The pull, the connection, the delicious chaos of wanting each other in a way that’s almost too thrilling to bear.
I shake my head, trying not to grin too widely, but it’s impossible.
We’re ridiculous, reckless, and utterly captivated by each other.
And for the first time in forever, I don’t care about being sensible, about rules, about anything outside this little, stolen world that exists between just the two of us.
We head back to our respective work spots, cheeks flushed and hearts still racing. I’m dizzy and giddy and maybe a little breathless, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t mind one bit.
It felt electric.
I felt so alive.
Who knew that we could go from barely having sex at all to having it twice in twenty-four hours?
Later that night, after the kids are in bed, I’m curled up on the sofa with my phone, scrolling mindlessly while Dan is in the kitchen finishing off some emails. I look down at my phone and a message from Dan appears.
Dan: Remember that time we nearly got arrested in the back of your dad’s car?
I choke on my tea.
Me: How could I forget? I still get nervous every time I see a police car.
Dan: The things you used to do to me... I still think about it.
A heat spreads through me, unexpected and familiar all at once. This is how it used to be. Teasing, daring, filthy when it needed to be. I hesitate for only a second before typing back.
Me: Oh yeah? You mean like that time in the hotel shower when you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself?
I watch the three little dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.
My heart races.
I remember this feeling. The feeling of anticipation and excitement over what the next message will say.
Dan: The hotel? That was tame. What about the time on your parents’ kitchen counter?
My entire body buzzes.
Me: Oh God, the counter. I think we broke the bread bin.
Dan: Worth it.
I giggle, biting my lip, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the blanket I’m wrapped in.
My mind floods with memories of us before kids, before PTA meetings and teething and laundry that never ends.
We were wild. Insatiable. We had sex in places we should not have had sex.
Cars, parks, toilets at questionable parties.
Once, in the changing room of a John Lewis because we couldn’t wait until we got home.
And now?
Now, I consider it a victory if we manage to have sex without a child bursting in asking for water, a nightmare remedy, or a detailed explanation of how clouds are formed.
We don’t have sex the way we used to. We don’t have sex the way anyone should, really. Our sex life before last night could best be described as ‘chaotic at best, mildly traumatic at worst’.
But these last two times were different.
I hope they’re all like that now, but I won’t hold my breath. I know that there will still be the odd cringe-worthy moment where we are almost caught in the act or where I get tangled up in my lingerie.
Like last month. I was feeling bold, daring, even, and had crept into the bedroom wearing a lacy number that, in hindsight, was entirely impractical given how fast I had to yank it off when Sophie decided to wake up for the third time that night.
Or the time Dan was mid-foreplay, hands working their way up my thigh, when we both heard a very loud, very distinct "Muuuuummmm?
" and I instinctively kneed him in the stomach as I leapt out of bed.
And then, there was the incident, the one we don’t talk about. The one where Ruby, our adorable yet horrifyingly sneaky toddler, stared at us through a crack in the door for God knows how long before whispering, "What are you doing?" at the worst possible moment.
Yep, that moment.
We still haven’t recovered from that one.
Dan comes to join me on the sofa then turns his head to look at me. There’s something in his eyes, something playful, dark, hungry. Him. The him I fell for all those years ago, the one who used to pull me into dark corners at parties just to see how quiet I could be.
He leans in, voice low. "If the kids weren’t upstairs right now, I’d bend you over this sofa."
I swallow. "So much talk, not enough action, Daniel."
His hand moves, slow and deliberate, resting just above my knee. His fingers brush over my skin, barely there but enough. I breathe him in, the scent of his cologne, warm and familiar, the kind of thing that makes my stomach do a little flip.
"We could be quick," he murmurs. "Like the old days."
I laugh. "The old days? You mean when we had no responsibilities and all the time in the world? The days when we weren’t interrupted by tiny, demanding humans?"
"Exactly," he smirks. "Reckless. Impulsive. Overly ambitious when it came to positions."
I snort. "You pulled a muscle that one time."
"Worth it."
He leans in, lips brushing against mine, and for a second, I forget. Forget that there are three kids asleep upstairs, that tomorrow morning we’ll be elbow-deep in breakfast negotiations and lost socks. Right now, it’s just us. And it’s good.
His hand slides higher...
BANG.
We freeze.
A thud from upstairs. Then a wail. Then...
"DAAAAD, SOPHIE TOOK MY DINOSAUR AND THREW IT AT MY HEAD!"
Dan lets out a long, slow breath, forehead dropping to my shoulder. "I swear to God, I love our children, but I might actually cry."
I stroke his hair. "I’ll hold you while you do it."
He groans, pushing up off the sofa. "To be continued?"
I smirk. "That depends. Can you guarantee there won’t be another spectator?"
He winces. "I’ll triple-check the doors."
As he trudges up the stairs to break up yet another sibling battle, I shake my head, laughing to myself. We might not be the reckless, insatiable couple we used to be. But the spark? The chemistry?
It’s still there. Buried under years of nappies and snot, sure, but very much alive.
And if we have to work a little harder to keep it burning?
Well, That just makes the victory all the sweeter.