From my other half...well, percentage. (For Qs about JC, visit the FAQ page on either website.)

This comes out next Friday.

“I need to stir the food or we’ll be eating burnt curry.”

“Don’t care,” he whispered against her hair.

“I do. Cuz it will be a pain in the ass to clean up the dishes.” She wiggled and pressed against him, easing off the counter.

“Okay, okay.” He sighed and swatted her on the ass. “That was probably the best five minutes I’ve had in…forever. Just so you know. Sorry it was only five minutes, though.”

She grabbed a spoon and working it under the chicken, grimacing as some of it stuck. It wasn’t too bad, though. Dinner could be saved. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m not…we can just go again after dinner.”

“Good.” He tangled a hand in her hair, tugged her head back. “Or maybe we can go ahead now and just eat it cold.”

A few breathless moments later, she pulled away from him and tugged at his hands. “Can’t. I went without lunch.” She checked the time and said, “It should only be twenty minutes. Then you can have your way with me.”

“Fine…” he groaned and rested his head on her shoulder for a second before moving away.

He lingered long enough to adjust her panties and tug her skirt down and she shivered at the feel of his hands on her thighs. She’d so very much missed having him touch her. She closed her eyes and swallowed around the ache in her throat. She’d missed a lot of things. Having him in here while she cooked dinner. Having him with her. Talking to her.

So many things.

“Maybe you can pour us some wine,” she said quietly. “And then you can give me whatever is in that bag over there.”

“Okay.”

She licked her lips and then added, “I’m afraid I drank part of your anniversary present last night. I bought you some wine but figured I’d enjoy it with Melissa.”

He laughed a little. “I guess that serves me right. What was the other part?”

“Well…the other part, I’ll show you some other day.” * * * * *

Five minutes of hot, brain-blowing sex did not a healed marriage make. As he stood in the bathroom, staring at his haggard reflection, he reminded himself of that.

They had to talk.

They had to fix this marriage.

But first…hell, would it kill them to take a night and just be together? He’d missed that. So much. When had they drifted apart like this? When had he let it happen?