When had his wife morphed from merely attractive to this vivid, lush beauty? More memories rose, vague but . . . tantalizing. The scrape of her fingernails on his scalp, gooseflesh skittering . . . The press of her soft chest against his . . . The feel of her throat, smooth and impossibly delicate under his lips . . . But, frustratingly, he could remember nothing more. What had happened last night?
