She gripped the sheet loosely around her breasts, accentuating her nakedness rather than attempting to hide it. “I have been waiting for you,” she crooned.
“I know,” the whispered response quiet but firm.
She turned, revealing more of her flesh. Wild hair cascading down her back in a river of chocolate satin, her creamy skin curving around the shape of her spine, her shoulders, the top of her buttocks. “I don’t like to wait.”
“I am not used to waiting for anything or anyone.” Her voice was even, calm, low – deadly.
She turned back, clutching the fabric close around her, gathering it tight, she stepped closer, a sneer curled her lip, her eyes flashed. “You know. You say you know. You know and here you are. You are not sorry? I could have gone home without saying a word and you would have come to my room and there would be an empty bed, without a note, just the rumpled sheets where I have been lying waiting.”
“I know...but you didn’t.”
They stood for a moment drinking each other in, air charged, eyes locked. Her dark eyes brimming with tears, she lowered her head as her words stuck in her throat, “I...I thought you would not come for me...”
“I know...but I have, my love. I have.” Advancing towards her, crooking a finger under her chin and lifting her face, kissing her tears. A hand wound its way through her hair as the other cupped her breast and the sheet dropped to the floor. “...and I will always come for you.”
“Now I know...” she said as she smiled softly. They kissed then, hard, lips against lips, breasts against breasts, tasting, savoring - lovers at last. Leaving their old lives and their husbands in their wake.