He pressed against her shoulder so she fell back, adjusted her legs so there was room for him between them and blanketed her with his body, every maneuver confident and determined.
They both stilled so only their breathing caused the slightest movement. He felt so right over her, his body big and strong, fitting perfectly against hers.
Max’s head dipped until their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in excited pants. “I want to consume you.”
“Yes, please.” This is what she wanted, had wanted for a lot longer than she’d admitted to herself.
His kiss was beyond consuming; it was voracious and domineering and filled with unbearable need. Not only was she helpless to deny that need, but Romi could also not help matching it. Desire whooshed through in a wildfire that nothing but full and total consummation and satisfaction would have any hope of putting out.
Her hands roamed restlessly over him, mapping him with touch everywhere she could reach, the heat of his body translating back to hers. Every caress only fed her need to touch him more so that her hunger increased into a conflagration of unsatisfied longing.
He held her head in place as their mouths continued to meet in a passion so strong, it obliterated everything else.
The world around them ceased to exist as lips and tongues tangoed to a sensual tune old as time and fresh as an infant’s first smile.
At some point, he took hold of her hands and drew them upward until they rested over her head. Her initial inclination to fight the restriction drowned under the onslaught of desire that washed through her in response to him taking control.
Holding her wrists together with one hand, Max began to touch her in ways she remembered and others she did not.
There was no limit to the intimacy of his caresses, no spot on her body too private, and so many unexpected erogenous zones that elicited astonishing increases in her ardor. He explored her body, provoking reaction with every brush of his fingertips, bringing every single nerve ending online until her body was screaming with the demand for more.
“Maxwell,” she gasped, not sure exactly what she was asking for, but knowing she needed more.
He lifted away from her and that was not what she wanted. She tried to reach for him, but he still had her wrists pinned.
She made a sound of frustration she’d never heard from herself before. “What are you doing?” Oh, gosh…she was whining.
Romi did not whine. Never had.
He didn’t seem annoyed, though. His expression was too intent for any other emotion than desire. “I want to give you pleasure beyond your wildest imagining.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re already there.”
“I want more. Don’t you, dorogaya?”
“You know I do.” He was the one who had moved away.
“Then you must trust me.”
She opened her mouth and found herself bewilderingly bereft of answer. He didn’t seem to notice as he released her hands and stepped back from the bed.
He turned away and opened a drawer in a dark wood cabinet. When he turned back, he had a pile of cerulean blue silk in his hand.
“What is that for?” she asked in a voice roughened by passion.
He shook out the fabric and she saw that it was two long scarves, the silk so fine it rippled on the air with the slightest movement.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I BOUGHT THESE months ago,” Max replied in a musing tone. “I should have known then.”
“Known what?” Romi asked.
“That you were not going to get out of my head.”
“Okay.” Assimilating the fact that the silk was the exact shade of her eyes when she was happy, Romi chewed on her bottom lip. “Um, what are they for?”
“Your pleasure.”
“You want to tie me up.” She shouldn’t have been startled.
He had given her tremendous pleasure before by accepting control and using it to her benefit. She wasn’t shocked. Not really.
She also wasn’t sure how she felt about the scarves.
He must have read the ambivalence in her face because he said persuasively, “Just your hands.”
“Not this time.” She wasn’t sure why, but she knew those scarves represented something between them that wasn’t there yet.
He reeled back, as if her words had shocked him, maybe even hurt him. “You enjoyed me being in control very much a year ago.”
“Yes.” There was no denying it.
Romi wouldn’t even try to deny that she got a special sexual thrill out of the attention he gave her, the way she became his entire focus when that happened. But she wasn’t ready for the scarves, either.
She really wasn’t sure why. One time, when they’d been dating, he’d used his tie to bind her hands behind her back while he touched her. She’d loved it.