Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Max stared at me like he couldn’t believe this was finally happening, his gaze roaming over me with a heat that made me shiver. The intensity in his eyes sent a pulse of awareness through me, and for a moment, all the air seemed to leave the room.
His voice was rough—strained—when he said, “Tell me what you want.”
The tension between us felt almost unbearable, an electric current thrumming through the air, and I wanted desperately to close the distance between us—to feel what I’d only dreamed of for years. “You,” I breathed against his skin. “Just you.”
Something snapped in him then. His mouth crashed down on mine, and this kiss was different from the two previous ones—hungry, demanding, years of restraint finally breaking free. I gasped as his body pressed into mine, solid and warm and perfect. His lips were insistent, claiming, igniting a fire within me that had been building for far too long. I responded with everything I had, tangling my fingers in his hair.
“Do you have any idea,” he said between kisses, “how many times I’ve imagined this? How many times I’ve wanted just to grab you and?—”
He broke off with a groan as I nipped at his bottom lip. “Show me,” I challenged, reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie. The silk slid free with a soft hiss, and I moved to undo his shirt buttons. My fingers trembled as I worked, whether from nervousness or excitement, I didn’t quite know. Maybe both. After all, this was Max—the man I’d loved for more than half my life. Suddenly, it felt like every fantasy I’d ever had was rushing to become reality all at once.
His hands caught mine, stilling them against his chest. “Hannah.” The way he said my name—like a prayer and a curse all at once—made heat pool low in my belly. “If we do this, there’s no going back. No pretending it didn’t happen.”
“Good.” I freed one hand to cup his cheek. “I don’t want to go back to how things were before. I want this. I want you. I want?—”
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched mine for any sign of hesitation as his hands—seemingly acting of their own volition—continued to roam eagerly over my body until he paused at the knot at my waist that held my dress together.
In answer, I reached for it myself, tugging it loose. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” My dress fell open, revealing black satin and lace.
Max groaned in appreciation. “Fuck.” With his hungry gaze traversing my curves, I felt vulnerable and exposed, yet also exhilarated by the raw, naked desire I saw in his expression.
His fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path down my shoulder blades, gently pushing at the fabric of my dress until it slid from my body with a soft rustle and pooled at my feet. “You're beautiful,” he breathed out, his voice rough. “So damn beautiful.”
I reached for his shirt again. My fingers worked quickly, driven by a desperation to feel his skin against mine. This time, he let me work the buttons free, watching my face as I pushed the fabric aside and ran my palms over the defined lines of his chest, my fingers memorizing the play of muscles beneath his skin. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered, my fingertips tracing the chiseled ridges of his abdominal muscles.
“Believe it,” he said, backing me toward the bed, his mouth finding mine again. Each successive kiss was deeper, hungrier, like he was trying to make up for all the years we’d lost. When my legs hit the mattress, he murmured against my throat, “Tell me what you like.”
I gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin beneath my jaw, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through me. My fingers curled into his shoulders, grounding myself as my world tilted on its axis. “This,” I managed to say, my voice trembling. “I like this.”
Max smiled against my skin. “Be specific, Hannah,” he teased, his hands gliding down to grip my hips. His thumbs brushed circles over the delicate lace at my waist, setting my pulse racing. “I want to know everything.”
His question—his attention—felt like a command and a gift all at once. He wasn’t rushing or assuming; he was asking … listening. “I like it when you touch me like I’m special,” I admitted, my voice quiet but confident. “But I also want to feel like you can’t hold back. Like you want me as much as I want you.”
He responded with a low growl, pressing his lips against mine in a kiss that was far from restrained. I couldn’t help but moan as his hands slipped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. His rough grip on my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh, was a claiming. “Precious,” he murmured against my lips before pulling back to meet my gaze. “And so fucking irresistible.”
When my hands found his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle in my haste to touch him, he caught my wrists and brought them to his mouth to press a soft kiss on each of my palms. “Slow down,” he said. “We’ve waited this long; let’s savor it.”
“But I—” The words caught in my throat as he hefted me effortlessly against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bed. Gently laying me down, he followed, his weight settling over me and pressing me into the mattress as his lips continued their intoxicating journey down my throat, across my collarbone, and then lower to explore every exposed inch of me. Every touch, every kiss felt deliberate, like he was memorizing me. My breath hitched when his hands found the sensitive outer curve of my breast, his thumbs brushing just under the line of my bra. “I want to take my time. To make you feel everything,” he murmured, reverence thick in his voice.
“You already do,” I said, threading my fingers through his hair and tugging him back up to my mouth. This kiss was softer, slower, a stark contrast to the hunger from before. It was a promise, a declaration of something far more profound than desire.
“You have no idea how many nights I’ve lain awake thinking about you, imagining us like this,” he said against my lips, his voice rough with need.
“I think I might.” I arched my back as he traced a featherlight path up my stomach and over my breasts, the tips of his fingers circling my nipples.
“As much as I love this scrap of lace masquerading as a bra, I want to see you. Taste you.”
“Yes,” I whispered, the word tumbling from my lips as I pushed up onto my elbows to give him access. “Please.”
With practiced ease, he unhooked the delicate clasp of my bra and tossed it aside, revealing my bare breasts. The cool air brushed against my bare chest, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. His gaze intensified, filled with a primal hunger and adoration that made me weak in the knees. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he leaned forward, his lips pressing against my skin with reverence, worshiping each breast with delicate kisses, gentle bites, and hot breaths against my skin.
I gasped as he whispered words of praise and desire into my ear: Look at how you’re trembling for me. I can’t wait to put my mouth on you. To finally taste you on my tongue.
His hands roamed over my every curve, igniting a fire within me that only he could quench. “Fuck, I love your tits,” he growled, his gentle touch paired with his rough words igniting sensations I’d never felt before. When his mouth eventually locked around the sensitive peak of my nipple and he tugged, I moaned with pleasure, my fingers gripping his shoulders tightly, holding on for dear life.
Max’s mouth grew hungrier, more insistent, as his hands slid down to caress my hips before hooking his fingers into the waistband of my panties. With deliberate care, he pulled them slowly down my legs—his movements unhurried but purposeful, each touch sending sparks of electricity through my body—until I was completely exposed to him.
I was a stuttering, mumbling, trembling mess of a woman by the time he finally settled between my thighs, his eyes locking on mine as his hot breath tickled against my skin. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee. “Nothing I’ve imagined comes close to the reality of you,” he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.
“Then stop imagining,” I said breathlessly, letting my leg fall open in welcome. “I’m right here.”
He smiled, a sinful curve of his lips that promised untold pleasure. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he lowered his head between my thighs and licked a decadent stripe along my skin that made me see stars.
“Holy shit,” I panted when he did it again.
His mouth was warm and insistent, his skilled tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. My hands instinctively tangled in his hair, gripping tightly, my body writhing beneath him as I surrendered completely to the unadulterated pleasure he was giving me. Every nerve ending was alive with sensation, every muscle tensing as he drove me higher and higher.
The world fell away as he devoted himself wholly to my pleasure, leaving me gasping for air and crying out in blissful surrender.
When I finally shattered, it was with his name on my lips, my body convulsing against his mouth. He held onto me tightly as I rose out the waves of pleasure, whispering filthy words of encouragement until I was completely spent.
That’s it, Han. Ride my face.
Give it to me, my sweet girl.
Fuck, you taste so good.
Eventually, Max kissed his way back up my body, his smile smug but tender. “God, Han. The noises you make,” he murmured, brushing his lips against mine so that I tasted the musk of my pleasure on him. “Would you think less of me if I said I almost came when you moaned my name as you rubbed your pussy against my mouth?”
“God, no,” I told him, reaching between us to tug at his belt, needing him as desperately as I needed my next breath. “That’s so fucking hot.” He groaned when I finally wrapped my fingers around him, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them again and looked down at me with unrestrained desire. “But if you don’t get inside me right this second, I might actually die of want.”
“Hannah,” he breathed out, his voice a rough plea as his features twisted with something that resembled regret. “I don’t have a condom.”
I stilled, meeting his gaze. The air between us crackled with indecision, the weight of this moment pressing down on us.
My heart thundered in my chest, my mind racing. This wasn’t just about physical risk—though there was that, too—it was also about trust, vulnerability, and the kind of intimacy that stripped away every layer of pretense. Max wasn’t just some man. He was the man—the only one I’d ever truly wanted. And I trusted him—completely and utterly.
Not just with my body but with the delicate thing that had been growing between us.
“I’m on the pill,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “And all my tests are clear.”
The words hung in the air, tentative but resolute. I held my breath, searching his face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Instead, what I saw was something that nearly broke me—relief. Gratitude. And something dangerously close to reverence.
Max swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as they settled on my hips. “So are mine,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion glinting in his eyes. “And I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year.”
A rush of relief washed over me at his admission. But before I could process the complex emotions tied to this knowledge, he pressed on. “Are you sure, though? I don’t want you to regret this.”
I reached up to cup his face, my thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. The roughness of his stubble tickled my skin. “I trust you, Max.”
His forehead dropped to mine, his breath a warm caress against my lips. “You don’t know what that means to me,” he murmured, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “To have you trust me like this.”
“I do,” I whispered, my voice catching.
And I did—truly.
In this moment, I understood just how much he was giving me, too—his trust, his restraint, his heart.
I’d never felt so open, so vulnerable, and yet so undeniably whole.
When his lips found mine again, it wasn’t the searing kiss I expected. It was slow, deliberate, a promise wrapped in tenderness. His hands slid over my body, memorizing every inch, every curve, as if this was a moment he’d never let go of. When he entered me, it was with a care that stole the breath from my lungs. My body tightened around him, a soft gasp escaping as he paused, letting me adjust. When he began to move, his rhythm was measured, deliberate, every thrust speaking a language of its own.
It wasn’t just passion. It was everything—trust, love, devotion—all tangled together in a way that felt like it could never unravel.
When we finally reached the peak together, it was explosive, a culmination of years of longing and unspoken feelings.
Even as we came down from the high, Max didn’t pull away. He stayed wrapped around me, one hand idly tracing patterns on my back as we caught our breath. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, pressing against the edges of my heart, expanding it in ways I hadn’t expected.
“You and me—like this—it feels right,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to my temple. “Meant to be.”
“It does,” I agreed, running my fingers in light circles over his arm.
The gravity of what we’d just shared wrapped around me, filling every quiet space with its presence. And because it was too much to fully process, I did what I always did when things got overwhelming—I cracked a joke. “But I’ll warn you now, Dr. Bennett. Now that I’ve had you, I’m probably going to become a little addicted.”
His low laugh rumbled against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “Good. Because I’m already hooked on you.” He pulled back, his laugh fading … replaced by an intensity in his gaze that made my breath hitch. “You mean everything to me, Hannah. I can’t imagine life without you by my side.”
My heart swelled at his words, tears pricking at the edges of my vision. I wanted to believe him—to believe in us. “I want that, too,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “But are you ready for that?” My voice shook with equal parts hope and fear as I spoke. It was terrifying to want something so badly.
He silenced me with a kiss, slow and tender, as if sealing a vow. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Tears spilled over as I smiled against his lips. “Then you have me. Always.”
The rest of the night was a blur of touches and kisses, whispered promises, and shared laughter. When Max made love to me again, it was slower, gentler, as though he were memorizing every curve, every breath, every heartbeat.
And when we finally fell asleep sometime around four o’clock in the morning, tangled in each other’s arms, I knew this man, this love, this life was always meant to be mine.