"She shifted under him, and he peered up at her. She leaned on the edge of the couch while holding his handkerchief to her mouth. A tear spilled from the corner of her eye, slipping down her cheek. She didn’t look at him.
He captured her free hand as it lay limp on her upper leg and kissed her palm. “Don’t hate me.”
Her fingers curled into her palm, so he wrapped his hand around her fist. She pulled her hand away and tapped his cheek. Expecting her to slap him, he lifted his face for his punishment.
She ran her knuckles up the side of his head and across his scalp. Unfurling her fingers, she pressed her palm flat then sifted her fingertips through his hair.
Placing his face in her lap, he inhaled the feminine scent he wanted to bathe in. She always smelled so clean and fresh, even after they made love.
His cock awakened, and he locked his knees together. If he even dared try to seduce her, she would maim him. So he suffered quietly, just like he had recklessly made her suffer because of his thoughtless actions.
She gripped his hair, and he looked up, his head suspended. He expected to see loathing in her eyes, but instead found disappointment and regret."