—Mabel—
Once again, the children were asleep when I got home.
I adjusted the pillow beneath Damian’s head, pulled Nathaniel’s blanket up to his midriff. Eloise’s little hand dangled over the side of the bed—I tucked it back under the covers and stood for a moment watching them.
Each one was his spitting image. A memory of that night.
Switching off the light, I padded quietly to my room and sent Ruth a quick text.
(I'm home. Talk to you tomorrow.)
In the bathtub, I couldn't stop myself from reliving the kiss over and over again. A moan slipped from my lips.
The images became more vivid as I dried off and applied lotion to my skin. Each pressure of my fingers reminded me of him...his cologne, his breath, his hands framing my waist, and his lips against my skin.
I rummaged through my
