He released the chain at the hoop there and gently slid it out of the others, leaning into me to toss it on the table at the side of the bed.

I instantly began to turn away from him so I could settle in and maybe muffle the deep breaths I needed to control my emotion with my pillow.

Mars foiled this plan by catching the side of my neck in one hand, my waist in the other, and using his thumb at my jaw to force me to look up at him.

“I’m tired, Mars,” I said to the empty hoops in his ear.

“I did not know it meant that much to you to take my chain from me,” he shared quietly.

I did not reply.

“I will not make that mistake again, my beautiful wife,” he murmured.

I simply nodded, still staring at his ear.

I would think on it much after it happened, whether it was fortunate, or unfortunate (and I’d lean heavily toward unfortunate) that in that moment, my husband dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine.

And I would think on it much after it happened, what prompted my response.

But the truth was, he had not kissed me in days.

In weeks.

Since our wedding.

And I loved his kisses.

Thus, feeling the touch of his lips, I pushed up into him, into them, and slid my tongue out to taste them.

I barely got a nuance for his mouth opened and my tongue slid inside.

So much better.

I made a hungry mew at having his essence, the warm wet of his mouth, the taste of some liquor and Mars, as I turned into his arms, eager for more.

He fell to his back and I fell on him.

Feeling him under me, I wanted so much, all of him, all at once.

But as I couldn’t have it all at once, I focused on his mouth, our kiss, and greedily taking more of that.

Mars, on the other hand, was able to give that and much, much more.

His hands moving on me, on the lace, on the silk of my skirt, on my skin, he quickly found the slit in the chiffon and put it to use, stroking the inside of my thigh that I’d wantonly flung across his hip.

That felt lovely.

He adjusted us, I felt his hardness press against me and I made another mew, bearing down into it.

He groaned, and his big hand cupped the back of my head, holding my mouth to his (not that I would take it away), as his other hand slid over my thigh, up, and I felt the tips of his fingers glide just under the edge of my panties at my hip.

So lovely.

“Mars,” I whispered against his lips.