The process of undressing was a slow, mutual discovery. Eden fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, her eyes wide with urgency and shared need, and Max helped her push the oppressive linen down his legs before her hands returned to his bare hips.
He peeled the dressing gown from her shoulders, letting the emerald silk puddle on the floor like water. The moonlight bathed her skin in silver, illuminating the soft curves he had only been allowed to dream about.
“I have imagined what you would look like a million times,” he breathed. “I always regretted that we never had the opportunity to be completely naked together.” He traced the line of her collarbone, following it down to the soft swell of her breast, his touch careful, asking permission that he already knew he had. “You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”
She shivered and arched up to meet his mouth, a deep, consuming kiss that pulled him down to her. As he drowned in the taste of her, he let his hands roam her soft curves freely. She was softer and fuller than she’d once been, and he loved it. She sighed and shifted, just as responsive as she’d ever been, and when his fingers pressed between her thighs, he found her soaked with desire.
He groaned into her mouth and broke the kiss, bringing his fingertips to his mouth and tasting her sweetness. Bloody hell. She was so fucking perfect for him.
Her green eyes were hooded, her breath coming in short gasps. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of stopping,” he assured her, his voice rough. “I want to make you feel so good, my love. Do you trust me?”
She nodded jerkily, and he spread greedy kisses across her chest, closing his lips over her nipples, biting gently as he readied her slick passage with his fingers, first one and then two, rocking them gently in and out of her.
The sounds she made, the soft, breathy cries, made him unbearably hard. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but he’d never felt like this with anyone else. The need to bury himself within her and finally have some relief for the desire thathad been clawing at him for weeks was so strong that it literally hurt to deny himself. But he wanted to make this so good for her, and he’d learned a lot about a woman’s pleasure since the last time they were together. She’d been his first, and he knew he’d been awkward and fumbling, so immersed in his own pleasure, he hadn’t known to ensure she received hers as well.
Pressing more kisses across the slight swell of her stomach, he found the tender bud that drove women crazy and fastened his lips around it, sucking gently.
“Max,” she cried, arching her back, her hands pulling at his hair. “What are you...? You can’t... Oh. Oh!”
He continued pressing his fingers deep within her as his tongue concentrated on the spot where she needed it most. Bloody hell, she tasted so good. Far too soon, she was convulsing beneath him, keening his name, climaxing so sweetly he nearly came on the spot himself.
Afterward, he climbed back up her body, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly as she slowly came back to her senses. He brushed her tangled red hair from her eyes, his heart melting as she stared up at him in confusion. “I don’t know what that was, but it was amazing.”
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad. I’ve dreamed about doing that to you.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t... unpleasant?” she asked, her face turning nearly as red as her hair.
“I’m quite sure,” he assured her. “You taste wonderful. I loved every minute of it.”
Tentatively, she ran one hand down his abdomen, her fingertips closing lightly around his cock. “Can I return the favor?” she asked daringly.
He gasped, slowly thrusting within the sheath of her hand. Just the thought of her putting those lips around him...
“You can,” he said roughly. “But not tonight. Tonight, I’m dying to be inside you again. Can I just...?”
He shifted, parting her thighs and kneeling between them, staring down into her eyes, feeling a closeness he hadn’t felt with anyone since the last time he’d joined with her in this way. He rubbed the head of his cock against her hot, wet core, and she moaned, letting her thighs spread wider.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Oh, Max. Please.”
He flexed his hips, sliding into her a few inches, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to find the strength to hold back, to not pound into her like an animal. “How does that feel?” he whispered. “Is it too much?”
She shook her head wildly. “I want more, Max. I want all of you.”
Without conscious thought, he thrust forward all the way, seeing stars as he seated himself to the hilt. He couldn’t stop the traitorous thought that she had always been home for him. It didn’t matter where he went in the world, as long as this woman was beside him.
And then all thoughts deserted him. All that existed was the feel of her, her heat, her breathy sobs of pleasure, the way she made him feel like the luckiest man alive. And then pleasure crested within him, breaking with a violence that shattered him to the core.
Later, Max held her close, her head tucked beneath his chin, their bodies damp and tangled in the sheets. He didn’t speak of the past or the future. He simply tightened his hold, anchoring them both to the safety of the present moment. Right now, this was the only place he needed to be.
Eden lay perfectly still, listening to the slow rhythm of Max’s breathing. He was deeply asleep, his arm thrown possessively across her waist, his face softened by the vulnerable mask of exhaustion. The first, hazy light of the Cairo morning filtered through the window slit, reminding her that she needed to get up and get ready to go out into the desert. Despite the new ease between them, the last thing she wanted was for Felicity to see her exiting Max’s room.
She closed her eyes, replaying the sequence of the night: the painful honesty of the confrontation, the mutual admission of their failure to fight, and the complete, consuming physicality of their reunion. It had been more than desire; it had been an act of claiming, a deliberate attempt to heal a fifteen-year-old wound.
Will you stand your ground this time?she had asked. He had answered not just with his words, but with every possessive touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.
He was here. He was warm, real, and anchored beside her.
