Sing You Home by Ava Hunter

I love you.

Sal’s words send Luke’s body, his mind over the brink of love into straight-up white-hot want.

Inside the bedroom, between panted kisses, they fumble with belts, buttons. Luke kicks off his boots while simultaneously stripping off Sal’s thin tank top, her shorts.

His wife—naked. Luke takes in all her glory as she stands in front of him. Curves in all the right places. Sun-kissed skin, the taste of whiskey on her breath, her chocolate-dark hair tangled around his fingers.

Luke’s stomach, his dick, stirs with want.

He has to have her.

Hauling Sal to his chest, hard enough to lift her off the ground, Luke falls back on the bed. With a breathy laugh, Sal lowers herself on top of him. He groans as she presses her breasts against his chest. Groans as she pulses against him. She’s already wet, slick with desire, marking her territory, leaving her trail of arousal across Luke’s stomach.

He cups the heavy swell of her breast, filling his palm with her sensuous weight. Her head falls back, exposing the gorgeous arc of her white throat.

Instead of slipping herself onto him, Sal slowly scoots herself down Luke’s body. She’s moving backwards for his cock. He tries to grab her, to pull her back to him, but she escapes his grasp.

Luke grits his teeth. “Damnit, Sal . . .”

“Not yet,” Sal whispers. She grins up at him. Lascivious. “Maybe you can help me remember what you liked?”

She settles herself between his legs. His cock stiffens as she looks up at him with big innocent eyes. Goddamn, she’s gonna turn him into a puddle of a man any minute now. He loves her. Loves her strength, her vulnerability. How she can be shy or bold. Bossy or demure. The sexy dichotomy of this woman—his wife—is enough to make him go nuts.

When Sal grasps his cock, Luke moans. Her hands. They feel like fire. A good kind of fire. One he’d walk through every damn day for the rest of his life if it meant Sal. Sal on top of him. Sal beneath him. Sal on her knees in front of him. Any way his wife wants him—he’s hers.

But she doesn’t take him in her mouth yet. She’s content to tease him, to tempt him, until he’s at the point of no return. But whatever Sal wants. This is for her as much as him.

“Tell me what you like, Luke. Do you like this?”

He shivers as Sal runs her silky hair along his stomach. Leaning over him, Sal brushes her breast across his face. Unable to help himself, Luke catches a dark pink bud in his mouth. Her nipples instantly harden. Sal lets out a giddy laugh and presses her breast deeper. He sucks harder. Her eyes roll back, and she nearly goes limp against him as he drags his tongue over her pert nipple, tasting her heady sweetness.

With a little sigh, she pulls away and slips lower. Her nails dig into his thighs as she presses backwards once more.

“Sal . . . ,” Luke growls, his hand threading through her dark hair and gripping as hard as he dares.

Christ, what is he doing?

He needs to be telling her the truth, begging for her forgiveness, not letting Sal beg for his cock. But he can’t redirect his brain—both of them—to focus. Can’t stop the shivers that go through his body at Sal’s touch, the untamed look in her eyes.

Finally, Sal’s red mouth opens as she takes him in. Swallows him whole to the base of his cock. His grip tightens on her hair, holding her in place, guiding her as she moves. Not that he needs to. His wife knows what she’s doing. Has always known.

A guttural bellow of pleasure escapes Luke’s lips.

The way she works her tongue around his shaft, her hands stroking his balls, her fingers gentle, rough, and everything in between.

Luke aches. Fuck. He’s going to come.

“Darlin’ . . .” His word is a warning.

Sal pulls back. “No.” Her word a command. Desire darkens her eyes. “I want you inside me.”

He bites out a breath. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“No.” A sly smile on her face. “You do.”

As Sal positions herself on top of him, her thighs wrapped tight around his waist, Luke pushes into her. His entire body goes electric at her softness, her warmth.

Sal arches her back, her head tilted back, her eyes closed. She rides him, rocking her hips. Her body undulates with his thrusts. Her small hands pressed against his chest. Luke can feel the pulse in her palm, mingling with his heartbeat as their bodies rock together.

The needy whimper Sal lets out has Luke on his last nerve. Only Sal has the power to absolutely wreck him.

He grabs her hips and thrusts. Hard. Unrelenting.

“Oh God, Luke,” Sal cries out, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his chest.

That’s when her entire body clenches. The most gorgeous sight Luke’s ever seen—his wife in the throes of orgasm. A pink flush spreads across her chest, her slender throat, as her small frame shudders from the release. Her body rigid, her nipples tightening. Lashes fluttering, Sal’s mouth moves around his name. A chant. A reverie. A primal promise that Luke has given her everything she wanted.

And he’s right behind her. Now that Sal’s satisfied, he lets himself go.

He spills into her with a mighty bellow, his dick pulsing over and over as he reaches that final, explosive climax.

Chest heaving, he opens his eyes, raises his head. Sal sways slightly. Then she falls forward, covering Luke’s throat, his chest with fervent kisses.

For a long moment, they lie there, Luke still inside of her, chests heaving as they bask in each other’s closeness.

Then he slips out and, cradling the back of Sal’s head, he gently rolls her over into the pillows.

She’s frowning slightly, her expression dazed, her face pale.

“Hey.” Luke cups her cheek. “You okay?”

Her mouth parts, her lips moving for Luke. “You wore me out.”

He smiles, catching her kiss on his lips.

Sal sighs. “I love you, Luke.” She closes her eyes. “So much.”

His breath hitches. His heart grows heavy.

Love. Sal loves him. And what did he do?

The entirety of the night comes back to him. The BBQ. The birthday. The words on his lips. What he had been planning to tell her before Sal’s confession of love had hijacked his own confession.

Guilt halos around him. What the hell was he doing? Clearly, his wife. But he should have been telling her the truth. Would she still feel the same way about him after learning about everything he’s been keeping from her?

He glances up to see her watching him, her pretty brow furrowed.

“I’ll get you something to clean up with.” Luke presses a kiss to her temple and disappears before she can say another word.

Sal groans as she sits up in bed and touches her temple. She’s lightheaded—from Luke or from the migraine she can’t tell. She also can’t tell Luke. He’ll worry. He’s done enough of that for her.

Rolling onto her side, Sal runs a hand over Luke’s pillow. She buries her face in it, drinking in his scent. Saying those three little words to Luke—she’s given her heart to him. Completely. She’s where she’s meant to be.

The way he tasted tonight, the way they came together, the song on his lips and the love in his eyes. She has a big, big crazy crush on Luke and it looks like it’s not going away anytime soon.

Pushing herself up, Sal slides out of bed. She contemplates talking Luke into a shower. Thinking about those big, lean hands soaping her up has her smiling.

Only the fantasy has to wait. Her head throbs so hard she can barely get a breath. Blood pulses in her ears. Her vision blurs. She takes two steps forward. Dizzy, Sal braces herself on the bedpost.

“Luke,” she whispers. She should call out. Louder.

The world waters at its edges. As the migraine grows big enough to swallow her whole, Sal makes one last stumble to the bathroom. Before she can call Luke’s name, vertigo reels through her. Her eyes flutter and roll backwards. With one last gasp, she slips over the edge of the bed to collapse to the floor.

Her last conscious thought: Luke.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” Luke tells his reflection in the mirror. He straightens up. Groaning, he swipes a hand through his damp hair. Great. Now he’s talking to himself? He was so devastated when he thought Sal was dead, now he’s so lovesick he can’t see straight.

He’s acting like a damn fool, but when it comes to Sal there’s no way he’d rather be.

Luke sucks in a rallying breath. “Go back in there and tell her. Grow some fuckin’ balls and tell her.”

Sal needs answers. And Luke’s the one keeping them from her. Not anymore.

Not after tonight.

When Luke exits the bathroom, his heart stops. The sight of Sal’s naked body lying facedown on the floor has him frozen.

“Sal!”

His shout’s a cannon, and Luke moves. Racing across the room, he falls to his knees beside her. With trembling hands, he rolls her over onto her back. Her head lolls across the carpet, her eyes closed, her face expressionless.

Frantically, Luke feels for a pulse. He exhales a shaky breath.

Thank Christ. It’s there. Steady and true.

He grabs a blanket from the bed, draping it around her.

Luke slips his wife’s limp body into his arms and lifts her, cradling her tight against his chest. As he carries her to the bed, he fights the familiar panic threatening to have him hauling ass to the hospital.

The moan that comes from Sal’s lips is soft, pained. He glances down at the woman in his arms. She’s stirring, her eyes fluttering behind closed lids, fighting to open.

Gently, Luke places her on the bed. After covering her shivering body with blankets, he disappears into the bathroom to get her medication and a glass of water. When he returns to the bedroom, Sal’s awake. Though she looks drowsy, she’s alert and watching him.

He sits beside her on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he smooths a lock of hair from her brow. “I think we oughta take a trip to the doctor, Sal.”

“Please, no. No doctors.” Her lips thin out into a humorless smile. “I didn’t eat all day. That champagne went straight to my head.”

“And a migraine?”

She nods, looking abashed. Staring down at her hands, she traces a finger over her tattoo.

Luke swears low under his breath. Primal anger has him cursing himself for not taking better care of her. For failing to notice how drained she was. How much stress she’s been under. Fuck. To think he was planning to tell her about everything. He’s a goddamn idiot. It’s only been four weeks. She’s still recovering.

And if she didn’t want to tell Luke about the migraine, then she was probably worried about burdening him. That’s Sal, always wanting to protect others even at the cost of herself.

He scans her pale face. “You should’ve told me you weren’t feelin’ well.”

As close to an admonishment as he can get with her looking at him like that. He takes Sal’s small hand in his, feeling it tighten around him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she says, her voice slurred from the migraine.

“You didn’t want—”

Luke lets out a shaky breath. Equal amounts of frustration and pride fill him at his stubborn-as-hell wife. “You scared me, Sal. Do you understand me?” He runs his thumb across her knuckles. “Walkin’ out of the bathroom and seein’ you on the ground—it scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her pretty face frustrated and pained. Her voice so downcast it carves up Luke’s heart. She bites her lip and stares at him with sad eyes. “I just wanted to enjoy tonight. I wanted to enjoy you.”

He leans in to kiss her forehead. “I know.” Gently, he strokes the curve of her pale cheek. “Let’s get you better. That’s what’s important.”

Sal nods. Although she still doesn’t look too happy with herself.

After swallowing her medication, Sal snuggles down into a pillow. Her green eyes track him as he changes into a pair of boxers. “Will you hold me?”

“Darlin’, you ain’t gotta ask me twice.”

Sal scoots over to make room for him and Luke slips in beside her. He takes her in his arms. Braces her against his chest, holding her so close it’s as if they’re one body.

Minutes later, Sal’s asleep. Her breathing even and steady.

Luke keeps his hand clasped over her heart.

His happiness, his life, it’s all here, wrapped safe and warm in his arms.