54. Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Four
Maximo
Iwake slowly. My shoulder is aching and my arm is numb. I try to move it, but it won’t obey.
My eyes fly open.
Adrenaline slams through me. The damp smell and the cold hit at once, and my heart starts pounding so hard it hurts.
I’m back in the darkness, stone walls surrounding me while rope cuts into my wrists and every futile struggle sends pain shooting through my shoulders.
I suck in a breath.
Vanilla.
The scent reaches me through the panic.
I blink hard. Dark hair lies scattered across my arm, not coarse rope.
Mia.
The room comes back in pieces.
I force air into my lungs. Tension locks my shoulders, and my fingers have curled tightly across Mia’s abdomen.
She doesn’t stir. Her breathing remains even, her fingers loosely wrapped around my forearm. She hasn’t let go of me all night. Neither, apparently, have I.
I ease my grip and wait for my pulse to settle. It takes longer than I’d like.
The fire crackles in the hearth. Outside, snow still swirls as the sky begins to lighten, but the wind no longer hammers the glass with the same force. The storm is finally easing. About time.
Mia continues sleeping soundly against me. Now and then, a loose strand of hair stirs with her breath. I follow its movement until the memory of my dream finally loosens its hold.
For reasons I don’t care to examine, the sight of her steadies me. She looks peaceful. Trusting. With one deep exhale, the remaining tension leaves my body.
Carefully, I try to slide my arm free without waking her. As soon as I shift, she makes a sound of protest and huddles closer, tightening her fingers around my forearm.
I stop. A faint crease appears between her brows, but disappears as she settles again.
I should put some distance between us, but I remain still, not wanting to disturb her.
Last night brought us closer together. More than weeks of careful planning ever could have. Who would have thought this storm would become my greatest ally?
Her resistance is weakening. I can almost taste her surrender. Not because I forced it, but because she’s beginning to see what life with me could be.
I’ll look after her and keep her safe.
She just needs to agree to this marriage.
Mia stirs again, her fingers loosening around my arm. Her breathing subtly changes as sleep gradually releases its hold on her.
Her eyes flutter open. For a few moments, she simply lies there, blinking at the fire dancing across from us.
Then she seems to remember where she is and how she fell asleep. To my surprise, her body relaxes more into mine.
With unhurried movements born more from instinct than conscious thought, she turns in my arms until she’s facing me.
Our faces are now only inches apart.
She studies me in silence, her eyes warm but still clouded with sleep. There’s none of the guarded suspicion I’ve grown accustomed to, no quick-witted remark waiting on the tip of her tongue.
“Good morning,” I murmur, my voice quieter than I intended.
The corners of her lips lift into the faintest smile, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, her gaze drifts lazily over my face. Her hand slips from mine and comes to rest on my cheek.
I stop breathing.
Her fingertips trace the line of my jaw before sliding into my hair. Then she lifts herself just enough to close the small distance between us.
Her lips brush mine.
It’s barely more than a whisper of a kiss, but it stops every thought in my head. A moment later, my heart lurches into a frantic rhythm.
She is kissing me.
My mouth moves with hers just as gently, terrified that anything more will break whatever fragile spell has settled over us. It takes every scrap of restraint I possess not to take over and deepen the kiss before she chooses to.
Then she does, and my heart skips another beat.
Our kiss intensifies. It’s the invitation I’ve been waiting for. Moving carefully, I roll her beneath me, and her legs part instinctively to let me settle between them.
I hold my weight off her as much as I can while my hand finds her cheek, my thumb brushing over the softness of her skin as I search her face for some sign that she’s realized what she’s doing and is about to retreat.
She doesn’t. If anything, she leans into my touch, her fingers sliding deeper into my hair.
The lingering haze of sleep clears from her eyes, and she draws me back to her. When our mouths meet again, she melts into me with complete trust.
I have kissed many women, but none of them have ever kissed me like this. There’s no calculation or hidden plan to gain some advantage. She’s simply giving herself to this moment.
When her tongue tentatively brushes mine, I respond, kissing her deeper. I let my weight settle more on her, and her body molds to mine. A moan slips from the back of her throat, the sound traveling through me like fire.
My hand slides into her hair as I take her mouth with a hunger I can no longer mask, and she meets each stroke of my tongue as though she’s been waiting for this as long as I have.
God, I want this woman.
Her hands move to my back, her fingertips slipping under the hem of my shirt and brushing over my bare skin. The slow glide of her palms up my back makes my skin come alive.
My hand tightens in her hair as I drag my mouth from hers and trace her lower lip before taking it between my teeth and biting down lightly. She writhes, her body seeking mine in a way that challenges my control.
My hard length presses against the most intimate part of her, the part no man has ever touched. The knowledge sends another surge of possessiveness through me.
She shifts beneath me, seeking more pressure. Then her hips begin a slow, instinctive rhythm.
“Max,” she moans, her eyes darkening.
Hearing my name torn from her like that makes me so hard it hurts.
She grinds against me and pleasure tears through my veins. My hips answer before I can stop them. I press hard into her as I swallow her next moan with my mouth.
The friction is exquisite, enough to make the muscles in my body tighten, urging me to give in and take this as far as she will let me.
But I can’t.
I won’t.
This belongs to our wedding night. I won’t take her for the first time before she has even agreed to become my wife, no matter how desperately my body wants her.
She breaks our kiss with a gasp, dragging air into her lungs, but her body doesn’t stop moving. Each restless circle of her hips presses her against the full length of me.
The urge to keep going until I see her come undone is overwhelming. With the next shift of her pelvis, she destroys my determination to stop this before she finds her release.
I want to show her how good I can make her feel without even slipping a hand between her thighs, to make her shatter from nothing more than the pressure of my body on hers.
I drive my hips into her, letting her experience every hard inch of what she does to me. Her lips part as she gasps.
“That’s it, little rebel,” I groan, my voice rough beyond recognition. “Take what you need. Let me watch you fall apart.”
Her cheeks are flushed and her lips swollen from my kisses. Her frantic movements tell me how close she is.
She squeezes her eyes shut, retreating from me at the very moment I want to see her most.
“Uh-uh. Eyes on me.”
Her lashes lift slowly, and the look in her eyes nearly finishes me.
“Rule number one,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “When we’re intimate, you never look away from me.”
She moans as I rock against her. “I want to see every flicker of pleasure on your face, Mia. I want to watch you lose control and know I’m the one who made it happen.”
Her hands wander down my back and close over my ass, gripping me and pulling me harder against her. Her boldness nearly makes me abandon the boundary I’ve set.
Balancing my weight on one forearm, I catch her wrist and guide her arm above her head before shifting to collect the other. I secure both wrists in one hand and pause, watching closely for her reaction.
She doesn’t resist. Her fingers flex within my grasp as her body chases the friction. Her eyes remain fixed on mine, her pupils so wide they nearly consume the warm brown of her irises.
She’s close now, but I keep the pace steady, refusing to let her fall over the edge quite yet.
Her whimpers come out in broken little sounds, her wrists straining within my hold as her hips lift restlessly in search of something the pressure of my body can’t quite give her.
“Max,” she pleads. “Touch me, please.”
The request tests my control. For one moment, I imagine sliding my hand under the waistband of her pants, discovering how ready she is for me and giving her everything her body is asking for.
My fingers tighten around her wrists as I fight the impulse.
“Not tonight, little rebel.”
Confusion flickers through the pleasure clouding her eyes. “Why?”
I lower my mouth to hers, letting my lips brush hers as I answer.
“Because the first time I touch your pussy, you’ll be my wife.”
Her body arches into mine, making it even harder to hold back.
“But I need…”
“I know what you need.” I press my hips firmly against hers, drawing a moan from her. “And I’m going to give it to you without crossing that line.”
I hold her gaze as I settle into the rhythm that has her trembling beneath me.
“That’s it. Don’t fight it. Let go and come for me. Now, little rebel.”
She keeps writhing, her movements growing erratic as she chases the release gathering inside her. Her body arches desperately to meet mine, seeking more friction.
I match each frantic movement until our bodies find the same rhythm. Pressing hard into her once more, her entire body draws taut. Her eyes widen as the first wave takes her, holding mine with a vulnerability that I will never forget.
She shudders, my name breaking from her lips. I cover her mouth with mine and swallow each sound, kissing her through the tremors while my hand grips her wrists firmly.
Even as pleasure rolls through her, she continues moving, every instinctive jerk of her body intensifying the pressure on my aching length and pushing me closer to the edge with her.
Finally, she goes soft and breathless. The sight of her lying there with her lips parted and her eyes still dazed nearly destroys me.
My body is painfully hard, the urge to keep going almost unbearable. For several seconds, I remain frozen above her, afraid that the slightest movement will become a decision I can’t undo.
I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to strip away the last barriers between us and make her mine in every way.
But not like this. Not before she agrees to be my wife.
Somehow, I force my fingers to loosen around her wrists. I bring each hand down carefully, pressing a kiss to the inside before gathering her against me and rolling us onto our sides. She follows without resistance, settling along the length of my body with her head tucked into the crook of my arm.
Putting distance between us would be wiser, but after everything she has just trusted me with, I can’t bring myself to withdraw from her.
The new position offers no relief for my burning ache. Her thigh rests across mine, her breasts press softly against my chest, and each small adjustment rubs her over my still throbbing cock.
I close my eyes and draw a slow breath through my nose, summoning the willpower I have cultivated over a lifetime of never allowing desire to rule me.
Mia stays silent. So do I.
There’s nothing I could say that wouldn’t reveal how close I came to losing myself in her.
Her hand comes to rest on my chest, and her breathing gradually begins to slow. At first, I assume she’s merely recovering. Then her body grows heavier, and her fingers relax over my heart.
I stare down at her.
Go figure. After driving me to the edge of sanity and leaving every nerve in my body screaming for release, Mia has drifted back to sleep.
A sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan catches in my throat.
I watch the fire. How I found the discipline to stop, I will never know.
And the temptation hasn’t lessened.
If anything, knowing exactly how she looks when she comes apart for me has made waiting for our wedding night infinitely harder.