“You sleeping?”
I propped myself up on my elbows. “No. Just trying to imagine life as a farm wife a hundred years ago.”
He smiled. “Why?”
“There’s a grave over there of a woman who was only twenty-one when she died.” I glanced over my shoulder toward her headstone. “Made me think about her life. What did she get the chance to do? What were her greatest joys? Her biggest regrets?”
Nick nodded and popped a blackberry in his mouth. “What do you think she died of?”
“Probably childbirth.”
“Right.” A breeze ruffled my dress up around my hips. Nick reached over and smoothed it down over my thighs, leaving his hand there. “You want kids someday?”
“Maybe. What about you?”
“Definitely.”
His certainty surprised me. In college, neither of us had been sure. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I loved growing up in a full house. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we had a lot of fun.” He smiled. “Drove my mother crazy. She used to yell herself hoarse. God, we were so bad. She used to chase us around with a broom and whack our butts with it if she caught us.”
I laughed. “Really? I never knew that.”
“Oh yeah. Why do you think I’m such a fast runner? Years of practice saving my ass from her damn broom.” He stretched out on his side, head in his hand. “I can still see her with that thing. It was one of those old-fashioned ones with a wooden handle and red stitching and the straw stuff all different lengths.”
“And these memories make you want children?” I asked dubiously.
“Sure. It was a noisy life, but we were never bored.” He was quiet a moment, during which I lay back and closed my eyes again. “Do you think,” he went on, “if we’d stayed together, we’d have kids by now?”
I had to smile. “Are you picturing me going at them with a broom?”
“Honestly, yeah.” He laughed.
“Are they boys or girls?”
“Hmm. One of each. No—two of each.”
My eyes popped open and I propped myself up again. “Four kids? I’m only twenty-eight!”
“But we’ve been married seven years already. And maybe we have twins.”
“Lord have mercy. There goes my girlish figure.”
“No, no, your body is still perfect. I can’t keep my hands off you, which is why we have so many kids.” Slowly he trailed a hand up my leg, over my hip, between my breasts. My nipples puckered as his fingers traced the neckline of my dress, brushing the tops of my breasts. Involuntarily, my lungs filled with fresh air, my chest rising toward his touch. He covered one full breast with his palm, kneading gently, watching his hand on me. Then he reached under my chin, tilting my face toward him. “I’m still crazy about you.”
“Nick.” This was dangerous territory.
Leaning over, he kissed me gently, sweetly, his lips as soft as the summer wind across my skin. “I’m still crazy about you,” he repeated, whispering against my mouth.
“No more talking.” I rolled over, pushing him onto his back so that I was lying on top of him. His hands moved over my ass, squeezing and pulling me tighter to him. I felt the hardness beneath his jeans and brought my knees astride his hips, freeing my dress so it wasn’t caught between us. Opening my lips, I braced myself on my hands above his shoulders and sought his tongue with mine while my hips rocked in a slow, sensual rhythm.
He moaned, and I felt him swelling further beneath me. I moved a little faster, grinding hard against the bulge in his pants, wondering if it was against God or nature to have sex in a cemetery where there may or may not have been a church, especially with a man you’d divorced. But he felt so good between my legs—my lower body ached to slide down onto his cock, take control, watch him come undone beneath me.
“You think it’s wrong to do it right here?” I rubbed my lips back and forth on his before kissing my way to that spot beneath his ear that drove him crazy. I licked it before pressing my mouth to his warm wet skin, smiling when I felt his body shiver.
“No, I don’t think it’s wrong. I think it’s the rightest thing we could possibly do right now. It’s all kinds of right.” His hands slid under my dress and pulled at my underwear. “But let’s hurry—this road isn’t busy, but it isn’t always this deserted either.”
No argument here.
I slipped one leg from my panties, leaving them looped around the other thigh. Glancing over my shoulder at the road—no sign of anyone—I undid his jeans and took his cock in my hand. Rising up on my knees, I positioned the tip between my legs before sinking down on him, inch by mind-blowing inch.
Nick watched me with a look of pure rapture on his face.
“Jesus,” he breathed, grabbing my hips. “You’re so beautiful.”
“And so wet.” I smiled, circling my hips a few times, arching my back to feel pressure where I wanted it. I knew we couldn’t take our time, but I wanted to savor this moment a little—the sweet summer air, Nick’s hot, hard body between my thighs; his thick fullness within me; even the secret thrill of getting caught. I’d never had sex outside in the daylight. It was delightfully liberating. I slid my palms beneath his shirt, flattened them on his torso. Fuck, he was just so gorgeous—I could look at that mouth all day. And those arms—my eyes skimmed over his muscular, tattooed forearms to the strong wrists at my hips. Guided by Nick’s hands, I moved my body over his, faster and faster, the tension pulling tight between us.