his tongue up one round curve just above the line of silk. He wrapped his fingers around her straps and eased them off her shoulders, but made no attempt to draw the material lower. Her breath came in erratic pants as he retraced his tongue’s path, this time dipping below the fabric.
“You’re being awfully darned slow about getting me naked,” Rachel complained, arching her back to reach her bra catch.
It loosened, but kept her covered. She pushed hard on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. He grabbed her hips and brought her with him. The bra fell, exposing her small, perfect breasts.
Max palmed them with a sigh of sheer joy. Her bra sailed somewhere off to his left as he began relearning the shape of her. Already her nipples had peaked into dark buds. Max half closed his eyes in satisfaction at the hitch in her breath as he fondled her.
Below where she sat, his erection prodded against her lavender panties, seeking entrance. She leaned forward and rocked her hips. His sensitive head slid against the silk of her underwear, so close to her heat he thought he might go mad with wanting.
She reached behind her and seized him. Max’s mouth fell open in shock at the intense pleasure that washed over him. A groan ripped from his chest as her fingers played over the head of his erection. His focus narrowed to her hand and the acute agony denying himself the satisfaction his body craved.
He pulled her hands away and meshed her fingers with his. He closed his eyes to block out her happy smile and the passion glowing in her half lidded gaze.
Not one of the women he’d been with since the day she’d left had brought him to the edge this fast. Control had never been a problem for him until Rachel had entered his life. Max sucked air into his lungs, struggling to clear the fog of passion before something happened they would both regret.
“Condom,” he rasped out.
“Where?” She sounded as impatient as he felt.
“Front pocket.”
She stabbed both hands into his pockets and plucked out a condom. “You came prepared,” she said, dismounting.
The bed sagged to his left. Max shoved down his pants and opened his eyes in time to see a naked Rachel rip open the foil packet with her teeth and poise the condom over the tip of his erection. Clenching his teeth, Max let her finish the task without his help while his hands fisted into the bed sheets.
The time for subtlety and patience ended. With his heart thundering a frantic cadence, Max sat up, flipped Rachel onto her back and slid into her with one long thrust.
The perfection of Max buried deep inside her robbed Rachel of breath. Five years was a long time to go without being complete. And complete was how she felt in Max’s arms. No other man reached past her defenses and captured her heart the way he did.
“You feel amazing,” he said, voice husky and raw as if overused. The timbre rasped against her nerve endings with delightful results. “I’m sorry I didn’t take it slower. I wanted to.”
“You always wanted to delay the good stuff,” she groused, but couldn’t hide her smile.
He dropped a kiss on her mouth. “And you were always rushing me.”
“Like this?” She placed her feet on the mattress and rocked her hips into his.
“Exactly like that.”
But he began to move with her and the incredible slide of his thick length in and out of her body transported her beyond speech. She peaked fast, the climax shocking her with its intensity and duration.
“What the hell?” she muttered as his body continued to move against hers, stronger now. “Where did that come from?”
“Where they all come from.”
He kissed her hard and long, the play of his tongue mimicking the movements of his lower body. To her intense disbelief, pleasure began to spiral upward again. Impossible. She was sated, exhausted by the intensity of her orgasm, yet another loomed on the horizon. Max slipped his hand between their bodies, finding the knot of sensitive nerves and plying it to great effect.
“Come for me again,” he demanded. “Come hard. I want to hear it.”
Faster and harder he thrust. Teeth bared, breath coming in heavy pants, he moaned her name, sounding as if it ripped from deep within his soul.
“Yes,” she clutched his shoulders, driving her nails in as another orgasm rippled outward from her womb. “Yes, Max. Now.”
And he came. She watched it unfold. Her inner muscles clenched in aftershocks as he bucked against her, wild and ferocious in his release. It thrilled her that she’d done this to him. For him.
He collapsed onto her with a gush of air and rolled them onto their sides. With Max still locked deep within her body, she bound his legs with her thigh, needing to keep them connected as long as possible.
“I’d forgotten how it was,” he murmured, his palm damp against her sweat-soaked cheek.
She laughed then. It burst from her like the trill of a happy songbird. “So did I.”
Time and self-preservation had dulled her memories of him. Of this. How else could she have gotten on with her life? And now that she’d tasted the amazing passion between them again, how was she supposed to walk away a second time?
When he pulled out of her arms and headed into the bathroom, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. The sight of so much male perfection had aroused her all over again. She tingled with glee at the thought that he was hers, and hers alone, all weekend.
And after that?
The question clawed its way out of her subconscious and roosted in the front of her mind. Max was never going to marry. Even if his father’s infidelity and mother’s acceptance of it hadn’t given him a sour view of the institution, there’d always been misgivings lingering in the back of his mind. Hesitations that had bloomed into full-blown skepticism after she’d made him an unwitting participant in betraying her marriage vows. Which meant, even if he changed his mind about marriage, he’d never change his mind about her.
Sunday morning, Max leaned his forearms on the balcony railing off the master bedroom and watched the rising sun shift the color of the sky from soft pinks and lavenders to a bright coral and gold. The wind had picked up overnight, and blew against his face, carrying the scent of brine to his nostrils. A jogger went by, nodding to a couple walking hand in hand as he passed. Farther east along the beach, a black lab chased a stick into the surf, bounding into the water with great enthusiasm.
Behind him, Rachel slept like someone who’d spent an exhaustive night making passionate love. He caught himself grinning. He’d worn her out. And she’d worn him out, but not enough to still the thoughts circling and bashing together in his head like bumper cars.
Last night, his mother had called. She was working on the seating arrangements for her thirty-fifth wedding anniversary party next weekend and wondered whether or not he was bringing a date. He should have told her he was flying solo; that had been his plan when he’d first learned his parents were renewing their vows and planning a big celebration.
His thoughts coasted to the naked woman slumbering in the room behind him.
If he asked Rachel to accompany him, the invitation would alter the texture of their relationship. No longer could he pretend that his interest was purely driven by sexual need. If he introduced her to his family, they’d be approaching something that resembled dating. Is that what he wanted?
Five years ago, before finding out she was married, he’d been ready to head down that road. Four short days with her had caused him to consider what his future would be like with her in it.
This weekend wasn’t supposed to be about starting fresh. It was supposed to be about settling old business and Rachel seemed on board with that. Why alter course and sail into a storm when the skies before him were a calm blue?
He