Her answer is to grab the front of my shirt and pull me back down.
The kiss turns feral. I'm on my knees now, then on my feet, pulling her up with me. My hands find her hips, her waist, the curve of her ass through that soft dress. She fits against me perfectly, her head tilted back, her body arching into mine.
"Bedroom," she gasps between kisses.
I don't need to be told twice.
I walk her backward, my mouth never leaving hers. We stumble over something. A book, maybe. I don't care. Don't care about anything except getting her horizontal beneath me as fast as humanly possible.
The bed catches the back of her knees and she falls, pulling me down on top of her. The weight of my body presses her into the mattress and she moans, her legs wrapping around my hips like she was made to be there.
"Fuck." The word rips out of me as I grind against her. Even through layers of clothing, I can feel her heat. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."
"How long?"
"Since you walked into my shop." I kiss along her jaw, down the column of her throat. "Since you looked at me with those eyes and I realized you weren't a little girl anymore."
"I haven't been a little girl for a long time, Max."
"I know." I find the spot where her pulse races and scrape my teeth across it. "That's the problem."
She arches beneath me, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "No more talking about problems. No more talking at all."
"Bossy."
"You have no idea."
A laugh escapes me. Genuine and unexpected. When was the last time I laughed during sex? When was the last time I laughed at all?
Then her hands find the hem of my shirt and all traces of humor evaporate.
She pulls it over my head and her eyes go wide. I know what she's seeing. The scars that map my torso like a roadmap of violence. The tribal tattoo sleeve that documents missions I'll never speak of. The body of a man who has seen too much and survived anyway.
"Max." Her voice is soft. Reverent.
She traces a scar along my ribs with one finger. Another along my shoulder. A third across my chest.
"Does it bother you?" I ask roughly.
"You're beautiful."
The words crack something open inside me. Something I've kept locked away for longer than I can remember.
I kiss her again. Softer this time. Trying to pour into it everything I can't say with words.
Then I start peeling off her dress.
The fabric slides up her thighs, over her hips, past the soft curve of her belly. She lifts her arms and I pull it over her head, tossing it somewhere behind me.
She's wearing a simple cotton bra. White with a tiny bow between the cups. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
"You're staring," she whispers.
"I'm appreciating." I trace the edge of the fabric with one finger. Watch her shiver. "I want to take my time with you. Memorize every inch."
"We have time."
"Do we?"
