He took off his coat, slinging it carelessly on the chair behind him and, with purposeful intent in every move he made, came to her, taking her hands in his. ‘To take every piece of clothing from your sexy body and lay you down right here, with just the light of the fire, and make love to you.’
‘That sounds like the perfect end to the day,’ she breathed, her stomach flipping over and a shiver of pleasurable anticipation rushing through her. This was more intense, more wildly enticing than the night two months ago when they’d become lovers once again. She hadn’t been able to resist him, had thought then, like now, that she would enjoy the moment.
‘In that case we will start with these.’ He lowered himself to his knees and she looked down on him, wide-eyed as he unzipped one long black boot then lifted her foot, pulling the soft black leather slowly from her. He looked up at her as his hands smoothed upward from her ankle, to her knee. She had to steady herself by reaching out and holding the mantelpiece, but he stopped just at the hemline of her dress and a ragged breath tore from her.
She couldn’t speak. Every breath she took was slow and deep with expectation. She closed her eyes and he slid down the zip on the other boot, pulling it from her and then sliding his hands upward once more. This time he went higher, teasingly higher, and before she knew what he’d done he’d pulled down the thick tights she’d opted for that morning and discarded them with a mock look of disapproval.
‘These have to go.’
The crackle of the fire was the only noise in the room as she looked at him, then as the tension mounted she laughed, shocked at the sexy giggle that sounded so unlike her. ‘Not to your taste?’
‘Absolutely not.’ His hands caressed her thighs, teased around her lace panties, and she tried hard not to close her eyes, not to allow her knees to buckle with pleasure. ‘This, however, is.’
‘You are a wicked man, Maximiliano Martinez.’ The unintended soft purr of her voice had an instant reaction on him and his grasp on her leg tightened.
‘Very wicked.’ He slid her dress a little higher and kissed a trail up one thigh and then down the other.
‘Max,’ she whispered, consumed by the rising tide of desire.
He paused and looked up at her. ‘Come here.’ There was unmistakable command in his voice but it was so sexy, so erotic.
She knelt down on the soft rug as his arms wrapped around her, forcing her to sit astride his legs as he knelt down. Her dress ruched high up her thighs as she followed her instinct and moved as close to him as possible. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the dress up higher until his hands cupped her buttocks, pressing her intimately against his erection. It was reckless, it was amazing and it was what she wanted most—to be like this with him, showing him how much she loved him.
‘Max,’ she gasped and let her head fall back as pleasure rushed over her.
‘Whatever else happens between us, we always have this, don’t we, Lisa?’ The words were heavily accented and husky and she didn’t care what he meant, didn’t want to think about that now.
She looked down at him, so close to him she could feel his breath on her face, feel that it was as ragged as hers. Words evaded her as his dark eyes, laden with desire, met hers. Words weren’t needed now. She would show him what they had, that it could be more than passion, if he let it. Slowly and teasingly she kissed his face, anywhere but his lips, until he took hold of her face between his hands and kissed her so hard, so passionately she groaned with pleasure, the sound muffled by the pressure of his lips.
He stopped kissing her, looking deep into her eyes. Was he seeing her love? Could he feel it, taste it? Without taking his eyes from her, he lifted the hem of her dress and pulled it up as she put her arms up, allowing him to pull the soft knitted fabric over her head and off, leaving her wearing only her bra and panties.
He kissed her neck, her throat and the swell of her breasts. She clung to him as shivers of passion rocked her body. ‘Your clothes,’ she gasped as his tongue licked her nipple through the lace of her bra.
‘You want me naked?’ The teasing laughter in his voice was mischievous and very sexy.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, taking on the role of seductress, raising her brows at him. ‘Very naked.’
‘As you wish.’ The playful tone matched the look on his face as he allowed her to slide from his lap. She sat on the rug and watched as he began to take off his clothes, loving the firelight on his body, highlighting the muscles of his chest as he removed his shirt. Lust and a greedy need for him spiked through her as he finally stood naked and proudly erect in the firelight.
‘That’s better. Now come back here,’ she demanded, loving this moment of control, even though she knew it was only because he was allowing it to happen. Just as he had that night two months ago. The night they’d conceived their child.
Within seconds he was over her, his strong arms holding his body off hers as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss so intoxicating her head spun as if she’d drunk champagne. As he kissed her he pushed her backward until she was lying on the rug, his body over hers, his erection pressing intimately against her. She moved against him, wanting him to possess her, wanting him to make her his again.
With expert ease he freed her first from her bra and then from her panties. ‘This is what makes us good, Lisa,’ he said as he looked down at her, raw, hungry desire in his eyes. ‘This passion.’
She wanted to ask, what about love? But his lips claimed hers in a demanding kiss, quashing any ill-fated questions, and instead she gave herself up to the desire that raged within her brighter than the fire of the cottage.
Was it passion? Not for her, but all that slipped away as he entered her, making her his. She moved with him, wanting to be his in every way. As stars exploded around her, her body full of the pleasure of his, Max groaned out in Spanish as he too found his release.
Now lying together, naked bodies entwined, his touch made her tremble and his kiss made her head light. The warmth of the fire was dwindling, the logs becoming covered in a white ash, but she didn’t move, didn’t want to spoil any of this. What had happened in this cottage, the love she’d shown him, the passion he’d showered on her, would have to last her for evermore. But right now, none of that mattered.
He kissed her softly on her neck, nuzzling at her skin, sending a fiery trail of desire throughout her. She turned her face to him and he brushed his lips over her so lightly, so lovingly it was almost too much. Then he deepened the kiss, proving he still had plenty of desire raging in him. As she pulled away, taking in a deep breath of air, he smiled at her in that sexy way only he could.
‘You are very beautiful, Lisa.’ He trailed his fingers down her naked body, over her hip and down her thigh before creating the same torturous sensation back up her body. ‘I love seeing the firelight cast a glow over you.
‘This is all so perfect.’ She closed her eyes as he kissed her softly again, but she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer, couldn’t hide her feelings behind the shield of lust for a second longer. ‘I love you, Max.’
Her whispered words sucked the air from the room. Even the flames of the fire seemed to stop moving as Max stopped kissing her and looked down at her.
‘No,’ he ground out as he moved away from her. ‘This is not love and it never will be.’
‘But I love you, Max, why can’t you let me in? Let me love you? Maybe then you can love me too.’
‘Never,’ he thundered as he got up, grabbed his clothes and left the room, his last word hammering at her heart, breaking it into thousands of pieces.
CHAPTER NINE
MAX HAD BARELY said a word to her the next morning, other than to insist they return to London. He had work to do and plans to finalise for Angelina’s party, but she knew it was what she’d said. Why had she spoilt what could have been a perfect few days with those three words that Max couldn’t say, much less be told?
She’d spent the day resting while Max worked, and as the afternoon had darkened into evening a light dusting of snow had fallen over London. She’d stood by the expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out over the city as the flakes had twisted downward in a crazy dance, feeling ever more confined, ever more trapped. Finally she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, desperate to slip away for just a short time from the confines of Max’s apartment, from the brooding silence that emanated from him louder than any thunderstorm.
She crossed the polished wooden floor of the living space toward Max’s study. The desk lamp shone a bright circle of white light over the desk and onto Max. He hadn’t noticed her and she used her brief advantage, taking in the dark hair, now reverted to its natural dark unruly curls. He sighed, dropped his pen onto the papers he’d been poring over and pushed his fingers roughly through those dark curls and her own tingled as she remembered doing the same at the cottage.
A dart of pain shot through her heart at the memory of the last time she’d looked into this room, of the papers he’d refused to sign to acknowledge the divorce she’d filed for the day of their first anniversary, unknowingly carrying his child. They seemed to be back at the beginning again, but she loved this man and after their special night together she knew she could never love anyone else. But her love wasn’t enough and when she walked out of his life at the end of the year she knew that no other man could ever replace him, that she would be bringing up their child alone. That thought saddened her, not just for their son or daughter, but because something haunted Max, stopped him from caring, from loving. It hurt like hell to know that she hadn’t been able to change that, to reach him.