8. Maksim #3
I lean in slightly, and I see her eyes flutter closed for just a second before snapping open again. She’s fighting the pull between us.
“Tell me you don’t feel this,” I say in a near growl. “Tell me you don’t want this as much as I do.”
Her hands come up, hovering in the air between us like she can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. “I can’t,” she admits, and the honesty in her voice makes my chest tight. “But that doesn’t mean we should—”
“Why not?” I shift slightly closer, and now we are just barely touching, my chest brushing against hers with each breath. I can feel her trembling. Her lips part on a soft gasp. “We’re already sleeping together. Why not admit there’s something more here?”
“Because there isn’t,” she insists but even as she says it, her hands settle on my chest, lightly resting there, her fingers curling slightly into my shirt. “This is just physical. It’s just—”
“Just what?” I bring one hand up to cup her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. Her skin is so soft and warm. “Just sex? Then why are you shaking?”
“I’m not—” But she is. I can feel it beneath my hand.
God, I want to kiss her. I want to take her mouth and show her that this is more than just the angry fucking we do in the dark. I want to remind her of what we had eight years ago, before everything fell apart.
I remember how it used to be. How her whole face used to light up when I walked in a room. She’d reach for my hand without thinking, and when we made love we would do so tenderly and slowly.
I want that back. I want her soft and willing in my arms, not just desperate and angry. I want her to look at me with trust instead of fear.
“Do you remember?” I murmur, my lips hovering just above hers. “Do you remember how we used to be?”
Something flickers in her eyes—pain, maybe, or longing. “I—”
“I think about it.” My other hand comes up to frame her face, and now I’m holding her gently, like she’s something fragile that might break.
“I think about how you used to smile at me. How you’d curl up against me in bed.
You used to laugh at my terrible jokes and kiss me just because you wanted to. ”
Her eyes are glistening now, and I can see her fighting tears. “That was before—”
“Before you saw something that scared you. I know.” I stroke my thumb along her jaw, and she leans into the touch unconsciously. “But I’m still that same man, Aria. I’m still the man who loved you. Who—”
I stop myself before I finish that sentence. Because if I say it—if I admit out loud that I’m still in love with her after everything—I don’t know if I can handle her rejection.
But she’s looking at me like she can see straight through to the truth I’m trying to hide.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers, but her hands are sliding up my chest to my shoulders, holding on.
“Mmm, yes.” I tilt my head, angling for the kiss. My body is tight with need and want, with eight years of missing her. I can feel myself hardening just from her proximity, from the way she’s looking at me with those dark, desperate eyes.
This isn’t just about sex. It’s never been just about sex with her.
“We shouldn’t,” she breathes, but she’s tilting her face up, her lips parting in invitation.
“I agree.” I’m so close now. So close I can almost taste her. Just another inch and—
I want to close that distance and crash my mouth into hers and kiss her until she can’t remember why this is a bad idea. I want to lift her onto the counter and make love to her right here in the warm kitchen.
I want to show her that we can be more than what we currently are.
Her breath hitches, and I feel it against my lips. She’s right there, right on the edge, and I know—I know—that if I kiss her now, she’ll kiss me back and this moment could change everything between us.
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure she can feel it beneath her hands. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to close the distance, to take what I want, what we both want.
“Aria,” I whisper, her name a plea and a prayer.
Her eyes are locked on my mouth, and I can see the war happening behind them. Want versus fear. Need versus self-preservation.
I start to lean down, giving her every chance to pull away, to stop this before it starts.
She tilts her face up, her eyes fluttering closed—
Then she turns her head away, and the spell breaks.
“I can’t do this.” She ducks under my arm and steps away, putting distance between us. Her hands are shaking as she wraps her arms around herself. “I can’t pretend this is something it’s not.”
The loss of her warmth is like being doused with cold water. I’m left standing there, hands braced against the counter, my whole body tight with unfulfilled need and longing.
“Wait, Aria.”
“Goodnight, Maksim.” She’s already moving toward the door, not looking at me. “Thank you for dinner. For the fishing. For—” Her voice breaks. “For being good to Daniel.”
She leaves before I can respond, practically fleeing from the kitchen.
I stand there for a long moment, breathing hard, my body aching with want. I can still feel the ghost of her hands on my chest and smell her shampoo in the air, still see the way she looked at me with those desperate, longing eyes.
She wanted to kiss me. I know she did. I could see it in every line of her body, feel it in the way she trembled beneath my hands.
But she’s still too scared. She’s still holding on to whatever secret is eating her alive and convinced that I’m the monster she needs to protect herself from.
And I don’t know how to fight that. How do I prove to her that this—whatever this is between us—is worth fighting for?
All I know is that I’m in love with her. Still. Again. Maybe I never stopped.
And that terrifies me almost as much as her secrets do.