"Stay like that and don't move."
Creigh instantly froze, remaining where she was, bent over the open door of the dishwasher. "I should have known you'd come home just when I got started on this."
"What can I say, I have excellent timing, and you, cara, are looking all kinds of good right now."
All kinds of good. His words warmed her from the outside in. It was far from what she was feeling, but who was she to argue with Dean, especially since his version of the sight she was making was far nicer than the one she was imagining. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of her head, and she was wearing a pair of black sweatpants with a white tank top that had seen better days. Creigh wasn't necessarily bringing the sexy. No doubt about it. But if he didn't mind, neither would she.
Without rising, Creigh turned her head and looked up at Dean, who was lounging in the kitchen doorway. His gaze was running rampant over her curved frame, and he was watching her with a seductive little smile on his lips. As usual he looked damn good. Her lower body throbbed at just the sight of him.
"See something you like, cara?"
"Always." She smiled. "But mainly I was wondering if you have a dishwashing fetish I've never heard of?"
The corner of his lips tilted upward. "I have a Creigh fetish. You loading the dishes is just a bonus."
"Definitely. It was my night to get the kitchen. Not having to clean is making me horny as hell."
"This position is making me light-headed. If I don't move, I might pass out."
"I know that should discourage me, but it doesn't phase me in the least." Dean tilted his head to the side as if he was pondering something profound. "Did that sound as disturbing out loud as it did in my head?"
He was so silly. "As long as you wipe me when you're done, I'm cool with it." Sexy gave way to achy, and Creigh stood and stretched her tender back. "Hey, baby."
"Hey, honey." Dean walked over to his wife and pulled her into his arms. Wordplay forgotten, he covered her mouth with his and did what he always did when he held her. He took her breath away. His tongue swept over hers, drowning her senses with the simple yet heady taste that was him.
As soon as she tasted him, she was lost.
Dishes, bills, and kids. Everything that had filled her mind just moments ago melted away at the touch of his lips against hers. Dean was the only person Creigh had ever known that was a force to be reckoned with sexually when he was of a mind. He could turn on the charm, the sex appeal, in a blink of an eye and have her simply putty in his hands. The worst part was he was well aware of it, and he had no problem using his ungodly skills on her wherever and however he chose. Creigh was his for the taking, and Dean knew it.
Instead of that knowledge freaking her out, she reveled in it. Her man knew her. Not just her body, but her mind and soul, and she knew him. This was the way it was supposed to be. This was where they were supposed to be. Together. Forever. For always.
Creigh became so enraptured in the feel of his mouth against hers, she actually let out a sad sigh when he broke the kiss and pulled back a bit. Despite being the one to halt things, Dean had a smoldering, hungry look in his eyes--one Creigh was sure was a mirror of her own. Three kids and two marriages later and they still had it.
The phantom it people not only wrote sonatas about but dirty stories as well was truly alive in her marriage. The thought made her smile. "Man, I'm happy you're home."
"Not as much as I am."
"I didn't expect you home before three."
"If it's a problem, I can always go back out and come home when you're asleep. Like every other night, it seems."
His comment took Creigh aback a bit. It wasn't as if she could stay up until he came home, then get back up with the baby when she woke, then get up again to get the kids ready for school before going to work herself. But instead of picking a fight, she kept the thought to herself. It wasn't often they had time together. She sure as hell wasn't going to waste it arguing. "Please don't go. I've missed you so much."
Dean smiled, her words obviously soothing over any annoyance she might have accidentally revealed. "I've missed you too, and I'm very happy to see you."
Dean moved his hand down to her bottom and pulled her taut against him so she could feel just how happy he truly was.
"Oh"--Creigh brushed her pelvis against the nice-sized package being held hostage behind his jeans--"is that for me?"
"Consider it an early Valentine's Day gift."
"Hmmm..." Creigh turned her head to glance at the clock on the stove, then turned back to face Dean once more. "Clock says I have three more hours to go before Valentine's Day. Am I going to have to wait that long?" She pressed her hips forward and rubbed her pelvis wantonly against the very large bulge straining against the fabric of his jeans.
"I think you should break the rules and open it early."
"Well, if you insist." Creigh dropped her arms from around his neck and brought her hands between them to the buckle of his jeans.
"Oh I do." Dean took a step back to give her more room. "Kids?"
Dean glanced at the clock on the stove and frowned. "Already?"
"Yeah." Creigh nodded. She could hardly believe it herself, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Hambone is knocked out, and Harlow was reading for a while but she's out too."
"Asleep," she said proudly. Their newest addition was making up her own rules about bedtime.
"Oh my God." His eyes widened and filled with shock.
Creigh couldn't help but laugh at the surprise on his face. "What can I say; I have skills."
Dean shrugged his long-sleeved shirt off, then took the edge of his T-shirt in his hands and pulled it up and over his head. "Trust me. I'm well aware of that." He tossed the dark material onto the floor as if it was nothing, before crowding her against the corner once more. "In fact I was hoping to sample a bit of your skills right now."
"Here?" Creigh teasingly looked around. "In the kitchen?"
"Or the living room." Dean ran his fingers down her hip and over her thigh. Even through the thick material of her sweats, his featherlight touch made her skin tingle. "Or the bathroom. Laundry room."
"Not picky..." Not content to be an idle watcher, Creigh reached out and ran her hands across his bare chest. His muscular pecs were hair free but still sexy to the touch. She followed the smooth lines of his torso to the waistband of his pants, popping his button on her course down her husband's body. "...at all, are you?"
"As long as you're in the room with me, I'm a happy camper." Dean pressed her back against the counter. "So you pick the place you want us to dirty up, and I'll pick the part of your body I'm going to run my lips over first. A silent, sleeping house gives me lots of ideas, and it's giving me a hell of a hard-on. I can't remember the last time we've both been awake and not exhausted. Or are you?"
She had been earlier, but that was before she'd been tempted by the king of temptation himself. "Tired is the last thing I'm feeling right now."
He pressed his lips softly against her neck before asking, "What's the first?"
"Extremely turned on," she whispered.
"And wet?" He ran his tongue gently inside the shell of her ear.
Creigh trembled and closed her eyes. "Most definitely."
"Prove it." Dean dropped his hands and took a step back. "Turn around, place your hands on the counter, and spread your legs."
Surprised by his order, Creigh didn't immediately do as he said. She gawked like a geek instead. This wasn't normally the way they did things, the way he did things. "Dea--"
"I said turn around." He spun her around until she was facing the counter. "Not talk."
"Oh." She gasped in surprise.
He pulled her T-shirt over her bra, then freed her breasts from the cotton confines of her nursing bra. It was one of the least sexy pieces in the history of lingerie, but with it bunched under her full and sensitive breasts, pushing them out and up, Creigh didn't feel self-conscious about it. It helped that Dean didn't seem all that concerned with it either.
"My, my, my." He cupped her breasts. One in each hand. "Whoever said more than a mouthful was a waste was an idiot."
"Some men prefer small and perky."
"Aren't you happy"--his long fingers found her bare nipples and squeezed--"I'm not one of them."