Page 68 of Sunday Morning

If it really was a dream, nothing but the sins of an unhinged imagination, then it couldn’t be that wrong. Right? What man or woman was always pure in thought?

Isaac showed patience with his hand covering my breast, gently squeezing it while the pad of his thumb brushed across my flesh where his name had been. My fingernails scraped along his neck as my quickening pulse thrummed in my ears.

I was coming undone in the most thrilling, frightening way while his hands found my hips. Crouching behind me, he dragged his lips down my back and over the cotton material covering my backside. He slid his hands to the front of my legs, fingers gently curling into my inner thighs like his teeth teased my butt.

I was …

Breathless.

Warm.

And my breasts felt fuller.

My muscles more tense.

And I felt wet.

I was aroused.

“Turn around,” Isaac whispered, letting his lips hover over the hollow dip on the right side of my lower back before kissing it.

I can’t do this.

Panic warred with desire. I couldn’t have sex with him. Sex would ruin the way he made me feel. The pleasure would shift, and I didn’t want to fake anything. I didn’t wantto feel any more guilt than I already felt for cheating on Matt.

Disappointing God.

Jeopardizing my family’s living situation.

Isaac didn’t push me to turn around. Instead, he guided my hand between my legs—the thin, wet cotton at my fingertips.

Again, he kissed my back, and then he rubbed his stubble-covered face along my skin, eliciting another sensation. I was drowning in pleasure, and I could no longer feel the line where his body stopped giving me pleasure, and mine began.

My fingers dipped beneath the damp fabric, and the slightest graze along my hypersensitive flesh made me weak in the knees.

I had never felt so aroused.

“If I were him, I’d put my mouth where your fingers are,” Isaac whispered with his lips at my hipbone, teasing it with the tip of his tongue.

My legs squeezed together because his words made everything feel heightened. Blood whooshed until I could barely hear anything but my deafening pulse. I was a hair trigger, unimaginably aroused.

Then it happened. A million stars. I felt like every nerve in my body exploded at the same time.

“If I were him,” Isaac hugged my waist, holding me to him and keeping my knees from buckling. “I’d be inside of you. We would be doing this together.”

“Isaac …” I panted. Waves of pleasure hijacked my entire body as my posture sagged, and I melted into him, lost in complete euphoria.

Isaac sat on his heels, bringing me to his lap when my knees collapsed inward. I was a rag doll in his embrace.

He buried his face in my hair, holding me tightly to him. “If only I were him.”

Tears filled my eyes, but I didn’t release them.

Oh, the guilt.

Why did everything I desired in life have to be wrong, sinful, or disappointing to others?

I wasn’t sure. But I knew I didn’t want to move. Isaac could have kept me wrapped in his arms forever. He made me feel so many things.