Today had been a revelation for them both. He’d had the shock of learning about their separation, and Olivia had certainly looked stunned when Rachelle turned up at his apartment.
He thumbed the TV remote, coasting through the channels mindlessly as he turned over the things he’d discovered today. None of it made any sense to him, no matter how he approached it. He didn’t feel as if he’d developed a romantic bond with Rachelle at all. Surely if they’d been a couple, he’d have experienced something when he’d seen her. He’d only felt mildly uncomfortable when she’d hugged and kissed him. Not like when he touched Olivia and certainly not at all like when they’d made love last night.
His fingers curled tight around the remote, making the plastic squeak. Even just thinking about his wife—and she was still his wife—was enough to awaken a hunger for her in him. How could things have gotten so bad between them that they’d separated? Why hadn’t they been able to work things out?
With a harsh sigh, Xander switched off the TV and got up to turn off the light and head upstairs. He may as well lie awake in bed upstairs as sit here alone with the inanity of the TV clogging his brain.
He took the stairs confidently, but he hesitated when he reached the top. There was muted light coming from the bedroom, and a delicate scent wafted toward him. Vanilla maybe? His footfall was silent on the carpet runner that led down the hall toward their bedroom. He hesitated in the doorway, taking in the room and the setting Olivia had obviously gone to some lengths to create.
The drapes were drawn but billowed softly in the evening breeze. Dotted around the room—on top of the bureau, the bedside tables, the mantelpiece of the fireplace—were small groups of candles in glass jars. The scent in the room was stronger, and he felt his body respond to the seductive scene.
Olivia came through from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel. His breath caught in his lungs as his eyes traveled hungrily over the smooth creamy set of her shoulders. His gaze lingered on the hollows of her collarbone before dropping lower to the shadowed valley of her breasts, exposed above the moss-green towel that was a perfect foil for her hair.
She’d clipped her hair up loosely, exposing the delicious curve of her neck, and silky strands tumbled to drift across her shoulders. He was struck with a sudden deep envy of those strands.
“Looks like you’re trying to seduce me here,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
“Is it working?” she said, her voice equally husky.
“I’m not sure. Maybe you need to keep going.”
He watched as she slowly untucked the end of her towel. The material dropped away, revealing her beautiful body in one fell swoop. Xander’s mouth dried. He swallowed, hard. Olivia reached a slender arm up and tugged a few pins loose, sending her hair cascading over her shoulders. Her nipples, normally a pale pink, had deepened in color and were tight buds on her full breasts—just begging for his touch, his lips, his tongue.
Xander’s body felt taut and hot, his clothing restrictive as his erection hardened even more. She was so beautiful, and she was walking toward him. He forced himself to keep his hands by his sides as she stopped in front of him. Clearly she had an agenda—far be it from him to make any changes to whatever she had planned.
“How about now?” she asked.
She caressed one breast with her hand, stroking lightly across her nipple, and he watched, mesmerized, as her skin grew even tauter.
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice gruff with the need that pulsed through him like a living thing. “It’s working.”
A tiny smile played around her lips. “Good,” she whispered before going up on her toes and kissing his lips.
It was a tease, just the lightest of butterfly caresses, but it acted like a torch to volatile liquid. In that instant he was fully aflame—for her. She must have sensed it, because her fingers were at the buttons of his shirt, deftly plucking them open and pushing the garment off his shoulders to fall silently to the floor. Her hands spread like warm fans across his skin, rubbing and caressing him. He was hot for her, so very hot his blood all but boiled in his veins.
He reached up to touch her and pull her to him, but she grabbed his hands and held them at his sides.
“Let me,” she whispered. “Let me love you.”
She bent her head and kissed his chest, tracing tiny lines with her tongue and then kissing him again. And then her tongue was swirling in tight little circles around his nipple. He groaned out loud, couldn’t help it, as a spear of need bolted through his entire body.
Olivia’s hands were at his belt, undoing the buckle, and then at the button of his trousers, then—finally—at the zipper of his pants. She slid one hand inside the waistband of his briefs, her fingers like silk as they closed around his thickness. She stroked him slow and firm, and it was all he could do to remain a passive subject in this sensual onslaught on his body.