She looked up at him then, really looked, and something unspoken passed between them. Regret. Longing. A shared memory of warmth and dark and hands learning one another by feel.
He crossed the room slowly, as if giving her time to stop him.
She did not.
He stopped just in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the familiar grounding presence she had missed more than she dared admit.
“Ye were remarkable today,” he said quietly. “In the hall. With the wounded.”
Ariella swallowed. “So were ye.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I had steel. Ye had only yer hands.”
“And yer people,” she said. “They trust ye.”
His gaze softened. “They trust ye too.”
The air between them changed then. Thickened. Drew tight.
Maxwell reached out, hesitated, then brushed his thumb along her jaw. The touch was light, reverent, and it undid her far faster than anything rougher could have.
“Maxwell,” she breathed.
That was all it took.
He kissed her.
Not hurried. Not desperate. As if he had been holding himself back for weeks and finally allowed himself this one truth. Her hands rose to his chest without thought, fingers splaying as if to confirm he was real, that he had come to her of his own will.
His hands followed, settling at her waist, then sliding up her back, firm and familiar and achingly missed.
“Ye feel like ye’ve been away a lifetime,” she murmured against his mouth.
“I have,” he said, and there was something raw in it.
The kiss deepened. He pressed her back gently, not breaking contact, until she felt the edge of the bed behind her knees. Hefollowed her down, bracing one arm beside her, his other hand tracing her side, her shoulder, her throat.
Ariella’s breath came faster now.
This was dangerous. She knew it even as she leaned into him.
He kissed her neck, slow and thorough, as if mapping her again, reminding himself of her warmth, her scent. Her fingers curled in his tunic, holding on as if he might disappear if she did not.
“Maxwell,” she whispered again, not sure what she was asking for.
His mouth moved lower, just beneath her ear. “I’ve missed ye.”
The words made her chest ache.
And still, something twisted inside her.
She had sworn she would not do this again. Not without clarity. Not without truth.
He kissed the hollow of her throat, his hand tightening at her waist, his breath hot against her skin.
This would go where it always did.
And she could not let it.
