Chapter Fifteen #2
Afterward, he climbed back up her body, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly as she slowly came back to her senses. He brushed her tangled red hair from her eyes, his heart melting as she stared up at him in confusion. “I don’t know what that was, but it was amazing.”
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad. I’ve dreamed about doing that to you.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t... unpleasant?” she asked, her face turning nearly as red as her hair.
“I’m quite sure,” he assured her. “You taste wonderful. I loved every minute of it.”
Tentatively, she ran one hand down his abdomen, her fingertips closing lightly around his cock. “Can I return the favor?” she asked daringly.
He gasped, slowly thrusting within the sheath of her hand. Just the thought of her putting those lips around him...
“You can,” he said roughly. “But not tonight. Tonight, I’m dying to be inside you again. Can I just...?”
He shifted, parting her thighs and kneeling between them, staring down into her eyes, feeling a closeness he hadn’t felt with anyone since the last time he’d joined with her in this way. He rubbed the head of his cock against her hot, wet core, and she moaned, letting her thighs spread wider.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Oh, Max. Please.”
He flexed his hips, sliding into her a few inches, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to find the strength to hold back, to not pound into her like an animal. “How does that feel?” he whispered. “Is it too much?”
She shook her head wildly. “I want more, Max. I want all of you.”
Without conscious thought, he thrust forward all the way, seeing stars as he seated himself to the hilt. He couldn’t stop the traitorous thought that she had always been home for him. It didn’t matter where he went in the world, as long as this woman was beside him.
And then all thoughts deserted him. All that existed was the feel of her, her heat, her breathy sobs of pleasure, the way she made him feel like the luckiest man alive. And then pleasure crested within him, breaking with a violence that shattered him to the core.
Later, Max held her close, her head tucked beneath his chin, their bodies damp and tangled in the sheets. He didn’t speak of the past or the future. He simply tightened his hold, anchoring them both to the safety of the present moment. Right now, this was the only place he needed to be.
Eden lay perfectly still, listening to the slow rhythm of Max’s breathing.
He was deeply asleep, his arm thrown possessively across her waist, his face softened by the vulnerable mask of exhaustion.
The first, hazy light of the Cairo morning filtered through the window slit, reminding her that she needed to get up and get ready to go out into the desert.
Despite the new ease between them, the last thing she wanted was for Felicity to see her exiting Max’s room.
She closed her eyes, replaying the sequence of the night: the painful honesty of the confrontation, the mutual admission of their failure to fight, and the complete, consuming physicality of their reunion.
It had been more than desire; it had been an act of claiming, a deliberate attempt to heal a fifteen-year-old wound.
Will you stand your ground this time? she had asked. He had answered not just with his words, but with every possessive touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.
He was here. He was warm, real, and anchored beside her.
But the fear that had sent him running all those years ago—the fear of a life that demanded too much compromise—was now her own.
She had built her life on independence, on ambition.
She had come to Egypt to fulfill a destiny she had chosen, not one that had been chosen for her.
If she gave herself fully to him, she risked the absolute annihilation of that self-constructed identity.
To choose him now meant inviting chaos into her carefully constructed life.
If they allowed this depth of passion to continue, could she still be the focused scientist she needed to be?
Could Max, a man defined by his freedom, accept a future that included the messy, complicated demands of a shared life?
They had confessed their fear of abandonment, but the real terror was that their ambitions—the very things that had drawn them back together—would once again force them apart.
She carefully, painstakingly, shifted the weight of his arm off her.
Max groaned softly, pulling her closer reflexively, burying his face in her hair.
She froze, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
He was not just her partner; he was the greatest emotional risk she had ever taken.
She loved him with a fierce, uncompromising certainty, but love had been their downfall before.
She waited until his breathing deepened again, then slid away inch by agonizing inch, the sudden coolness of the air on her skin a shocking contrast to his heat.
She stood beside the bed, pulling her emerald dressing gown from the floor.
It was slightly crumpled, smelling faintly of him.
She slipped into it, tying the sash tightly, wrapping herself in a fragile layer of control.
She looked down at him for a long moment, memorizing the line of his jaw, the dark shadow of stubble, the strength of his bare chest. She loved the man who slept there, the one who didn’t run, who had finally fought for her.
But the day was coming, and with the daylight came the duty to her expedition, to her own fierce need for professional success.
She needed to reclaim the self she was before the heat of their reunion burned it all away.
She slipped through the doorway, letting the latch click softly back into place.
The familiar contours of her own suite—the clean lines of her desk, the pristine counterpane of her untouched bed—offered a cold comfort.
She walked to the window, watching the sun finally crest the rooftops, painting the city gold.
She had fought for him last night. Now, she had to fight to regain her focus. The passion they had shared had been beautiful and terrifying, and for the safety of the expedition and her own fragile heart, she had to leave it here in Cairo.