10. Maksim #5
The sight of her and the feel of her clenching around me—it’s too much. I follow her over the edge moments later, the orgasm hitting me like a tidal wave. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent—jasmine and warmth and home—as I spill inside her, deep and complete.
For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, both of us trembling with aftershocks. I’m careful not to put my full weight on her, but I can’t bring myself to pull away yet.
My hand finds her stomach, resting protectively over the gentle swell. Her hand covers mine immediately, fingers lacing through my own, and we lie like that in the soft lamplight, neither of us speaking.
“That was…” She trails off, seeming unable to find the words.
“Different,” I finish for her, lifting my head to look at her. Her face is flushed and her hair spread across the pillow, but her eyes soft in a way they rarely are anymore. “Better.”
“Yes,” she says softly as she swallows. “So much better.”
I carefully pull out and shift to lie beside her, immediately pulling her into my arms. She comes willingly, tucking herself against my chest like she belongs there. My hand returns to her stomach.
This is what I’ve been searching for without even knowing it. Not just Aria in my bed, or my son under my roof. But this—this quiet intimacy, this tenderness, this feeling of being home in a way I haven’t felt since she disappeared eight years ago.
We lie tangled together, my hand on her stomach, her head on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. Neither of us speaks, but the silence isn’t heavy or awkward. It’s peaceful. Content, even.
Like we’ve finally found something we’ve both been searching for.
And I know—I know with absolute certainty—that I’m in love with her.
It’s almost stupid to be in love with her still. I need to protect myself from the woman who ran once and could run again. She still won’t trust me with her secrets, and she looks at me sometimes like I’m the enemy.
But instead, it feels right, like the missing piece finally clicking into place.
I press a kiss to her hair and hold her closer, breathing in her scent, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest against mine.
“I never stopped,” I say quietly into the darkness, echoing what she said earlier. “Eight years, and I never stopped caring about you.”
She’s silent for so long I think maybe she won’t respond. “I never stopped either. Even when I was running and hated myself for it, I never stopped.”
The admission makes it hard to breathe. I tilt her face up to mine and kiss her softly, trying to pour everything I’m feeling into it. All the love I can’t quite say yet. All the promises I want to make but know she’s not ready to hear.
When I pull back, she’s looking at me with those dark eyes, and I can see the war happening behind them. Want versus fear. Trust versus self-preservation.
“Then why won’t you trust me?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “Why won’t you tell me what you’re hiding? If you care about me, if you never stopped, then why won’t you let me in?”
She closes her eyes, and a tear slips free. “I want to trust you. I want to so badly. But I’m terrified you won’t believe me or you’ll think I’m lying and making it all up.”
“I won’t.” I place my hands on her cheeks, waiting until she opens her eyes and looks at me. “Whatever it is, I’ll believe you. I promise.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t promise that.” More tears fall, and her voice breaks. “You don’t know what I’m going to say. You can’t promise you’ll believe me when you don’t even know what it is.”
“Then tell me.” I press my forehead to hers, feeling her body tremble. “Please, Aria. Just tell me. Let me prove it to you. Let me show you that you can trust me with this.”
I can see her struggling, the secret pressing against her lips, demanding to be spoken.
But then she shakes her head, and I feel the moment slip away.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “Not yet. The fear is too strong. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Disappointment courses through me and I want to demand she tell me everything right now, tonight, while we’re honest with each other since before she ran away. But I can see she’s on the edge of breaking, and I don’t want to shatter this fragile peace between us.
“Okay,” I say quietly, pulling her back against my chest as I run my fingers through her hair. “But soon, Aria. You need to tell me soon. Because whatever you’re afraid of, it’s eating you alive and I can’t protect you from something I don’t understand.”
She nods against my chest, her tears soaking into my skin. “Soon. I promise. Just…not tonight. Please.”
“Not tonight,” I agree, pressing a kiss to her hair. “But soon.”
She relaxes slightly, and we lie there in the darkness, holding each other. Her breathing eventually evens out, and I think she’s fallen asleep.
But then she speaks, her voice barely a whisper. “Maksim?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For tonight. For being…gentle and showing me that we could be more than just—”
“Angry fucking?” I finish for her, smiling as I feel her softly laugh. “I know. I felt it too.”
She tilts her face up, and I kiss her softly. Once. Twice. Three times. Each kiss a promise. Each touch a vow.
I love you. I’ll protect you. I’ll wait for you to trust me.