"Claire." My name is a warning and a prayer all at once.
"Max."
He closes the distance.
His lips meet mine, and the world ignites.
The kiss is desperate. Hungry. Ten years of distance and grief and longing compressed into the press of his mouth against mine. He tastes like coffee and something darker, something that makes me want to crawl inside him and never leave.
I fist my hands in his shirt and pull him closer. He groans against my lips, and the sound vibrates through my whole body.
Then he's pulling back.
Breathing hard.
Eyes wild.
"We can't do this," he says.
But his hands are still on my face. His forehead is pressed against mine. And his whole body is trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Tell me to stop," I whisper. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away right now. I'll go back to Virginia and you'll never see me again."
Silence.
His thumbs trace my cheekbones. Slow, reverent.
"I can't," he admits. "God help me, I can't."
And then he's kissing me again.
CHAPTER FIVE
MAX
I'm going to hell.
That's the only coherent thought in my head as I kiss Claire Harris like she's oxygen and I've been drowning for ten years.
Because I have been. Drowning in guilt and grief and the weight of a promise I made to a dying man. And now his daughter is in my arms, her lips soft and sweet against mine, and I can't make myself stop.
I don't want to stop.
She makes a sound against my mouth. A whimper that shoots straight to my cock and obliterates what's left of my self control. My hands slide into her hair, those gorgeous coils wrapping around my fingers as I tilt her head back and deepen the kiss.
She tastes like coffee and something sweeter. Like everything I've denied myself for years. Like home.
"Max." She breathes my name against my lips, and the sound of it nearly breaks me.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Swollen lips. Flushed cheeks. Those dark eyes heavy with desire.
Marcus's eyes.
The guilt tries to rise up, tries to choke me. I shove it down ruthlessly.
She's not Marcus. She's not a child. She's a woman who drove two thousand miles to find me, who sat with me on this cold floor while I fought my way out of a flashback, who looks at me like I'm worth something despite all evidence to the contrary.
"Tell me to stop," I rasp. "Last chance, Claire. Because once I start, I won't be able to."
