Escalation Clause by Liz Crowe Page A

hand on his shoulder, hoping to do something to reconnect. More than the physical, she needed him to grasp how she was dealing with this, to see that she was handling it in her own way. Mostly, though, she just needed him to talk to her, really truly talk—like they used to.
    He startled, looked up, then grabbed her hand. His deep blue eyes were wild. The touch of his lips to her skin made her tingle, and gasp with anticipation. He turned his chair around, took her other hand and yanked her down to his lap, slanting his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips. Her body acted of its own accord, using well-worn scripts to find release.
    She stood and slipped out of the shorts she’d been sleeping in, as tears crowded the space behind her eyes. She bit them back, leaned in to unzip his jeans. They stared at each other as he stood, let her shove them down to the floor. There were so many words between them, so many things left unsaid. But the physical urge that crackled in the room would not be denied. He sat back down and she straddled him, taking him inside her immediately, her body already wet and eager.
    “Sara,” He exhaled into her hair his voice taking an edge of need she had forgotten, then threaded his fingers in it, yanked hard bringing a familiar sweet edge of pain to her pleasure. He shoved her T-shirt up to get at her breasts. She rose and fell back onto his shaft, taking what she needed as he sucked her nipple, biting down and making her groan and her entire being contract and pulse around him. She’d stopped breastfeeding as everything in that department had seemingly shut down after the tragedy, her body betraying her by no longer producing milk—one more thing that made her feel inadequate. But, she was never more grateful that she could have this moment with her husband. She cradled his head, fisted his thick hair, wanting to feel him all over her.
    “Harder, Jack. Please. I need this.”
    He picked her up, still kissing her, never breaking their connection, grunting as they dropped onto the couch. The glorious sensation of his thickness filling and spreading her walls, the perfect way they fit together finally released the tears that had been lurking. She gripped his shoulders, wrapped her legs around him as he pounded into her.
    “Sara,” He whispered again, just as her own orgasm flashed through her, making her cry out and hold him tight. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her so hard she frowned.
    “What? Jack…. Please talk to me.”
     He gave her one of the longest, slowest, most intimate kisses she could remember, his lips and tongue moving and possessing her, owning her just as she liked. His hips moved in time with the thrusts of his tongue, dragging her from one orgasm straight into the next.
    “Yes,” she hissed against his lips, digging her fingers into his ass, finally feeling reconnected to the man she loved.
    All the shit that had gone down—the abject horror of a memorial service, the mind-numbing exhaustion of the baby, Katie’s near constant tears over Blake, her scary anger at Rob—everything disappeared as Jack stroked in and out of her. His whispered commands to come sent her right over the edge.
    “God,” He groaned deep in his throat, lowering his face to her neck as he tensed in the way she knew well. She put her hand alongside his rough face.
    “I love you, Jack, so much, please…oh, yes.” He kissed her then, connecting with her as he came in a now time-worn way she loved. He broke from her lips, slowed, stopped, and slipped out of her. Then he sat, breathing heavy, one hand on her leg. “Thanks.” His voice had dropped back into that noncommittal tone she’d come to dread. Her heart stuttered when she realized he was still tucked into a place not even she could reach. She turned his face to hers and kissed him. Hoping like hell she could bring him back. They’d been through so damned much to get to where they were. Having Jack fade on