Aria

He peeled off his shirt like it had already weighed him down, but he was slow, deliberate about it, like I was in a strip show but this time baring the body I knew by memory, but I still stared at like it was a sunrise I’d been waiting years to see again.

Every inch of him, scarred and sculpted and mine. He tossed the fabric aside, and I actively tried to breathe. My husband is hot!

Grant looked at me like I was holy. Like I hadn’t shattered him just days ago. Like he still saw ...