“What’s wrong? You’re all tense. Cats okay?” She looked around my frame.
“They’re fine. I checked on them already.” My fingers wound into her hair, and I pulled the singular, long pin she’d used to secure the mass of ebony silk in a twist. Her hair tumbled down over my hand in a rush, flooding me with her bright, citrus scent.
“Then what is it?” she asked softer.
“Your passport.”
She blinked up at me. “My what?”
“You’ve changed your name on all of your identification but your passport.” I didn’t bring up the investment accounts. Those I knew she’d never switch over until she felt stable and safe.
“Random, but okay. You’re right. I didn’t.” She shrugged.
A wave of acute pain sliced through my chest.
Her eyes softened, and her fingers played over my trimmed beard. “Baby, passports take forever to get back here. Usually like eight weeks. When we got married, I knew I had to be in Canada with the team. With you. I didn’t want our marriage to sideline me during those games, so I asked Regina to ticket me under my maiden name for international flights so I wouldn’t mess us up.”
My chest loosened with every word she spoke. I knew she’d always put her job first, and she deserved to, especially with the demands her ex had put on her.
“So this isn’t about me. It’s about your job,” I said slowly.
She nodded. “Yeah. I figured the only logical time I’d even be able to get my passport changed would have to be summer—”
My mouth slammed over hers, my tongue spearing between her lips to rub along hers. She moaned, and I kissed her harder, lifting the hem of her skirt until it rested at her waist and then lifting her by the soft curve of her ass until those long legs wrapped around me.
Her hands held my head as she kissed me back, never once trying to take any of her own weight from my arms. She trusted me here with her body, but that same desperation was back, clawing at me to secure her heart.
I hardened almost instantly, and she groaned as I rose to rest in a rigid line against her thong. “I love that you leave your ass bare,” I growled into her mouth.
She whimpered her answer as I backed her to the wall that ran between the kitchen and the foyer. Then her hands were in my hair, tugging the tie free so she could get to the strands.
“Do you like this blouse?” I asked between kisses as our breathing escalated.
“Not particularly,” she said as I kissed down her neck.
“Good. Lock your ankles.”
She did as I demanded, and I leveraged my hips to keep her against the wall. Then I took her blouse in my hands and pulled, sending the delicate buttons flying and revealing soft skin and a red lace bra.
The need to make her come drove every thought of propriety from my head, and I undid the front clasp of that bra before slipping her pebbled nipple into my mouth. Raging, primal desire held me in its thrall, and by the way she groaned, tipping her head back against the wall, it held her, too.
I moved back to her mouth and took her moan between my lips when my fingers quested to her center and found her soaked and needy. “Miss me, min enda kärlek?”
“We were only apart a few hours,” she answered, but then gasped as I sank two fingers inside her dripping center.
“What was that?” I asked, curving my fingers to stroke her G-spot.
“Oh, God, Axel!” she cried, using her legs to lift her hips and ride my fingers.
“So you did miss me? Feels like you missed me.” I moved my thumb to caress lazy circles around her clit and watched her eyes slide shut as the sweetest moan slipped from her lips.
“Yes! Yes, I missed you, just, please!” She rocked against me, and my dick throbbed in time with my heartbeat, taking that desperate feeling from my chest and channeling it elsewhere.
I needed to be inside her now.
“Please, what?” I asked, still circling without touching her directly.
“Baby,” she groaned, her fingers tugging my shirt up so she could stroke my chest.
I slipped my fingers free from her pussy and raised my hands so she could tug it off. Then I flicked open the button on my pants and unzipped, quickly dropping them and my boxer briefs beneath my ass so my cock could breathe.
“I need you, Langley,” I told her, knowing I didn’t just mean her body. I needed every part of her, but I was going to settle for whatever she would give me.
“Yes,” she groaned, her fingers tracing the tattoo that ran from my pec down my arm.
“Right. Now,” I clarified, knowing she preferred to fuck in our room and close to not caring. I needed her to let go in at least one arena, to free up just a little of that control she kept in a stranglehold.