The Pre-Nup by Beth Kendrick

into a cough as Eric stirred and answered his phone. “’Lo?”
    She stopped knocking and lowered her voice to a breathy, teasing lilt. “Hey, honey, it’s me. Guess where I’m standing right now?”
    He mumbled something unintelligible.
    “Honey?” she cooed.
    “Jen?” He sounded bewildered. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
    She sighed. “Everything’s fine. Open the door.”
    Muffled rustling on the other end of the line. “What door? I’m in New York, Jen.”
    “So am I.” She struck a pose and rubbed her lips together to freshen the gloss she’d applied in the elevator. “Go open your hotel room door. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
    “Can I call you back in the morning?” His words slurred together.
    “Hey. Don’t fall asleep on me,” she barked. “Just get up for two seconds and open your hotel room door. Humor me.”
    “But I—”
    “Please.”
    The door swung inward and her husband’s sleep-lined, unshaven face peered out at her. His sandy blond hair stuck out from his head at odd angles and he was clad in plain white briefs and a white undershirt, but he’d never looked better to her.
    “Surprise.” She hugged him, tucking her head under his chin. His body felt warm and solid against hers, and she inhaled deeply to savor his clean, soapy scent.
    He didn’t say anything for a minute, just absorbed the impact of her embrace. Then he put both arms around her waist and squeezed.
    “Hi,” she whispered.
    “What on earth are you doing here?” he murmured.
    “I missed you.” She clung to him and said a silent prayer of thanks for her steady, solid husband. He would always be her anchor. He would never let her down.
    He was, in short, the polar opposite of Patrick Spillane.
    She tilted back her head. “Did you miss me? I know you said not to bother coming all this way, but I just couldn’t wait.” She faltered for a moment before purring, “I need you.”
    His eyes snapped wide open.
    “Well, look who’s awake.” She pressed the full length of her body against his.
    His arousal stirred and hardened against her side, but the rest of him remained absolutely still. He seemed to be holding himself in check, afraid of scaring her off.
    She pulled away long enough to unbutton her jacket, then glanced around to make sure the hallway was empty before peeling off her sweater. Underneath, she wore a skimpy black lace demibra she’d bought right after their honeymoon. The bra had been buried at the bottom of her sock drawer, tags still attached, for five years. She and Eric had never been a sexy-lingerie kind of couple. Until now.
    Eric’s eyes got even bigger, as did the bulge in his shorts.
    She lowered her eyelashes and threw him a sultry half-smile. “Aren’t you going to ask me to come in so I can show you what I’ve got on under my jeans?”
    Eric yanked her inside, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign over the knob, and slammed the door shut. His fingers fumbled with the zipper on her jeans as they stumbled toward the bed.
    She let herself fall back against the crisp cotton sheets that were still warm from her husband’s body. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind and made love to her husband with a focused, ferocious energy that she hoped would bridge the gulf widening between them.
             
     
    Jen listened to the slow, steady rasp of Eric’s breathing and repositioned her pillow. She’d been lying here for the last half hour, her agitation mounting as the minutes ticked by on the luminous digital clock on the nightstand. His warm, solid body curled around hers and she couldn’t bear to be so close to anyone right now. Not while the scent of sex still clung to the sheets and all of her emotions were roiling so close to the surface.
    Carefully, inch by inch, Jen pulled away from her husband and tiptoed across the bedroom, nearly stumbling as her feet got tangled in a comforter that had been tossed to the floor. She needed to staunch all the hope and