Letter

Carina listened to her husband's words and her heart stopped, then pounded in an uneven rhythm. She didn't know the difference this time, but had the impression that they had found each other on the road, and he had chosen the hard way.

They've made love every night since Michael's party, sometimes slow, sometimes hot and crazy. He had whispered provocations and compliments, telling her how beautiful she looked and how he wanted her.

But he had never looked so deeply into her eyes as he knew who she was. As if the outer skin had been peeled off and revealed the ripe insides, Carina felt exposed before him. She held her breath and waited for him to come out of his coma.

But instead, he took her cheeks in his hands and spoke right on her lips. "You're my wife and I want to make love to you."

Then he kissed her, slow and warm making her blood boil, like syrup poured over a hot cake, until her body softened and her lips parted for him, their tongues entwined. in an ancient rhythm between