He bumped his hips against her behind, trapping her between the countertop and his body.
She gasped at the contact. She hadn't even heard him come into the bathroom. The man moved as silently as a shadow.
Meghan met his gaze in the mirror. Lieutenant Alan Denton, proudly serving in The Queen's Royal Hussars. Oh. Yes. He was also her husband.
Sometimes she needed to pinch herself to remember that it was real. They'd only known each other a handful of desperate, passionate months before he'd put an engagement ring on her finger. Shocking her and all of her relations, he'd followed it with a wedding ring the exact same day.
Her insides melted and her pussy flooded with juices. Was it possible for a man to be any hotter? His mesmerising eyes, darker than the blue of the North Sea, and his black, regulation-length hair were startling in their contrast to one another.
He might have been in civilian clothes, but he wore them with military precision. His dress shirt was starched, and the creases were so sharp that she cheekily wondered how he didn't injure himself.
She felt his erection against her backside. "Missed me, did you, soldier?" She'd missed him. She'd counted down the months, the weeks, the days, the hours until she'd get to see him. And having him home was more blissful than she could have imagined.
His arms came around her and he drew her even closer. "What do you think?"
He didn't seem to care that she'd already taken off her make-up or that her hair was piled on her head, still damp from her bath. A couple of strands escaped and lay curled against her cheekbones.
"I think I want you to do something with that."
"With what?"
"Your erection." She rolled her eyes, earning a grin from him. "It seems a shame to waste it when our time together is so limited."
He moved his grip a little, so that his hands were on her hip bones. He held her there so she couldn't escape.
He had always been keen on capture fantasies, and if she told the truth, she liked them, too.
He'd chase her. She'd elude him.
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