Page 119 of The Romance Line
He’s seen my breasts before, of course. But it feels different when he cups them, weighs them, then lets go. It feels different because when I lift my chin and meet his honest gaze, I say, “You can look.”
There’s a pause as he runs the back of his fingers along my cheek. He drops a tender, adoring kiss to my mouth, then shifts his weight. The mattress sinks. He moves on the bed, kneeling behind me for the first time.
I hold my breath. I’ve been here before. I’ve been left alone here before. My heart beats in my throat. Emotions swim up my body. Memories, too, along with images from the night of the accident. But I breathe through them, past them, cataloging the beat of the sultry song in the background, the faint scent of midnight and longing, the softness of the duvet.
And him.
While I want to lower my face, I don’t do that either. Istay strong because I am strong. I know that now. I believe that now.
A second later, Max’s big hands cover my shoulders, then glide slowly, tenderly. He’s like an archaeologist touching a treasure for the first time. One hand coasts down the smooth skin on my right side, the other along the bumpy, scarred, once-burned skin on the left.
He touches each side of me the same way. His touch is hungry and reverent as his hands travel all over the terrain of my body, the map of the last three years of my life. Then it’s no longer just his hands on my back. They’re joined by his mouth. Hands and lips and the scratch of his beard as he kisses all the imperfect pieces of me.
“I love them,” he says in a gravelly rasp.
I turn back to him, unsure I’ve heard him right. Because I’m not sure anyone could say that. “What?”
He clasps my cheek, drops a kiss to my lips that he finishes with a desperate sigh, then returns to my back. “I love them so much,” he says, his own voice full of emotion, like he’s fighting to keep it together. With a shudder, he kisses my back more urgently, all over. “Because they mean you’re alive,” he says, then he raises his face and bands his strong arms around me, pressing his warm chest to my back, clutching me against him like I’m the treasure he’s keeping safe. “You’re alive and here with me.”
Just in time.
I clasp his hands in front of my chest and hold on tight. But I can’t hold back the tears that flood down my cheeks. He is so much more than I’d ever imagined. “I’m here,” I say, but it’s not a whisper this time.
It’s steady and strong, like how I feel with Max Lambert.
“And I love them. I love everything about you, andmost of all, this,” he says, his hand sliding up and between my breasts where he spreads his palm across my heart and covers it. Like he’s protecting it. Like that’s all he wants to do for me. Protect me.
And I believe he does.
I close my eyes because this moment is overwhelming. But I lean back against his shoulder, resting on him. The tears slide down my cheeks, and when they slow I say, “You make me feel everything.”
I can feel his smile. Can hear his grateful murmur. He kisses the salt from my face until I turn and capture his mouth.
We kiss, and it’s hot and needy and unstoppable.
We’re clawing at each other, grabbing at the last bits of clothes. He whisks off my panties, and I tug down his boxer briefs, and we’re tumbling together on my bed. A tangle of arms and limbs, skin and flesh, bodies and hearts. He’s on top of me, and then I’m on top of him. His hands coast up my back again, fearlessly, then into my hair as he hauls me back down for another passionate kiss.
When he lets go, I’m so amped up, I blurt out, “Put me on all fours.”
His fantasy.
His wish.
But mine too.
He closes his eyes for a brief second, but he’s smiling. He’s smiling so wide, like I’ve given him a dream come true. What a wild thought. When he opens them, he says, “Are you sure?”
My lips curve up. “I’m serious about everything with you.”
He holds my face. “You’re my real favorite thing.”
Some men just say things, but I know Max means his words. This man adores me, and it’s such a thrill to feel the full weight of his affection. “And you’re mine,” I say.
I move to my hands and knees, shifting into a position Ineverthought I’d want. Or really, I never thought a lover would want to see me like this.
But as I bow my back, I’m hardly thinking about how I look to him. I’m simply feeling. The ache inside me. The trembles racing over my skin. The curl of pleasure intensifying in my stomach.
And the heady anticipation as Max kneels behind me, rubs his hands over my ass, then covers himself. He notches the head of his cock against me, and I gasp, sharp and fast. He pushes in. My skin tingles. He groans. He sinks into me all the way. Then he does as he promised a few nights ago.