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Max is on top of me within a second. His lips fused to mine. He kisses life into me, blurring the lines of all the fragments until they’re just one piece of desire. His fingers play at my entrance and I grind my hips against them until he slips them inside me. I groan into his mouth as the tingling sensation in my core heightens from his expert fingers and I’m on the verge of release, my moans intensify, but everything stops when he pulls them out. My chest heaves and a few choice words are on my tongue until I notice him reach over and grab a condom out of his pants.
His eyes pin me in place, daring me to move. I’m not going anywhere. But it’s been so long since I felt a man inside me. Damon was the last.
“Max, I haven’t been with—” He stops me with his finger on my lips and nods in understanding.
Leaning over, he kisses the side of my lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispers, guiding himself inside me until he’s fully sheathed. My body quivers, chills wrap around my spine and I gasp at the feeling of fullness, the slight sting twisting to pleasure. He entwines our fingers and brings them above my head.
Our bodies move in a fluid motion, my legs squeeze tight around his waist and his eyes never leave mine. Our souls are bared as we dance to a sensual rhythm. This time is nothing like the first time we were together where our sexual energies were riding high from emotions. Our hearts are leading this dance. The song, pure and simple.
I’ve never been so afraid for a song to end.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sydney
The silence between us is louder than a bull horn. The endless chatter in my head spurs panic.
What did we do?
Where do we go from here?
What will our friends think?
What would Damon think?
“It’s just you and me in this room, Tink,” he states as if hearing the damning questions. I press up on my elbow and meet his eyes.
“Is it?” I whisper, wondering if it could ever be just us. I dig my head into his hard chest and groan. I’m spoiling the moment. Why can’t I let go of the past?
Max wraps his arms around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head. The sweet gesture helps me relax. I focus on his heartbeat. “We’ll take this however you want. Slow or fast,” he rasps into my hair. “The only option you don’t have, is walking away. I’m not letting that happen again.”
Before responding, I let his words sink in and close my eyes, turn off my mind and just feel. The once hollow core inside my heart is full, my soul is dancing, and my body has never been more alive than when I’m with Max. How can I walk away when everything is perfect?
“I don’t want to run anymore,” I surrender, lifting again. Tears blur my vision. It's freeing to say it out loud, the weight of giving a shit lifts off my chest letting me breathe easier than I have in a long time. His eyes flicker across my face. These are tears of relief.
He rolls us over and hovers above me, bringing his lips to mine, devouring my mouth with a desperate yet controlled need. The tension that always saddles us, dissipates. He pours his heart into it and I feel it. Every beat. Every emotion. Every want and need.
I gasp for air when he releases my swollen lips. Slowly, I regain my senses, and he raises a curious eyebrow. Seconds pass as I wait for him to tell me what’s on his mind. Eventually, I ask, “What?”
“You didn’t answer me. Slow. Or fast?” His question was regarding the speed of our relationship earlier, but the heat in his eyes and his hardness pressing into my hip suggests otherwise. My pulse quickens.
“Slow,” I murmur, sounding out of breath as I watch his finger graze down the middle of my rib cage. “We should—” I swallow my words, whimpering when his finger skims my sensitive clit, sliding right inside of me. My back bows off the bed and I moan at the delicious, yet agonizing slow speed he moves in and out of me. “—take things slow,” I mewl, the ache building in my lower belly.
Rocking against his hand, I groan as he takes my breast in his mouth.
“Slow isn’t usually my style, but I accept the challenge.”
Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I wait for the remorse. The guilt. Instead, a woman who’s happy and thoroughly fucked stares back at me. My cheeks are red, my breasts still perky and firm, skin flushed from Max’s stubble. And a heart that’s full. For the first time, the thought of being with Max doesn’t result in a storm of reasons we can’t be together. “Don’t fuck this up,” I whisper to my reflection.
“Tink, you okay in there?” Max calls from the other room, worry etched in his voice. His question pops into my head again. Slow or fast? A lazy grin creeps up my cheeks as I wonder if he thinks my answer was only about sex. Don’t get me wrong, slow sex with Max was wildly hot.
I peek out of the bathroom, my full heart twists when I find Max sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees with a strained expression. His eyes dart to mine when he hears me coming out of the bathroom. His uncertainty devastates me. This fractured moment is my fault. I’m bringing this gorgeous man who doesn’t answer to anyone to his knees. He hands me the power I don’t want.
Standing in between his legs, he sits up tall, and I rake my hands through his hair. “Your question… we were talking about our relationship, right?”
With a slight tic at the corner of his mouth, he nods. His demeanor morphs in front of me to the confident man I’m used to seeing. “You’re the boss.”
I stifle a snort, pushing on his naked chest and he falls back on the bed. “As if.”
