Page 61 of Secret Stalker

She smoothed her hand over his shirt, her hand shaking, sadness welling up inside her. “I’m not asking you to fit me back into your life. I’m asking you to work on trying to forgive me. And then maybe we’ll see where we go from there.”

Slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what she’d do, he moved his left hand toward her face, then gently stroked her hair back, feathering his fingers through the strands.

“Still as silky as ever,” he whispered.

“Still so handsome you can stop a girl’s heart with one look,” she whispered, smiling up at him.

His mouth twitched. “That handsome, huh? Sounds dangerous.”

“You have no idea.” She moved closer, until her breasts pressed against his ribs.

His lids lowered to half-mast. His hand shook as he continued to stroke her hair. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Bex. We haven’t settled anything at all between us.”

“You’re right. Nothing’s settled. But we’ve had an incredible run. And I can’t think of a better way to say goodbye—if this is goodbye—than to share ourselves with each other one last time. It sure beats how we ended things last time. How I ended things. Let’s write a better ending to our story than walking away from each other angry and bitter. We deserve that. Max and Bex deserve that. Don’t you think?”

In answer he groaned and yanked her to him, his mouth slamming down on top of hers. Heat filled her, warming her from the inside out. She struggled to get closer to him, standing on her tiptoes. He lifted her with one hand beneath her bottom, setting her feet on the edge of the hearth, the roaring fire warming her back, Max warming everything else.

This kiss was nothing like the one he’d given her earlier. That one had been distant, questioning. He’d held back. He wasn’t holding anything back this time. And even though she’d always thought they had something special between them, comparing everything before to this was like comparing a candle to an out-of-control wildfire.

Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning lit up the house like broad daylight. But it barely registered in her mind. There was only room in her thoughts for Max and how he made her feel. She twisted against him, her tongue tangling with his, her fingers sliding down between them, eagerly working at the buttons on his shirt.

Groaning deep in his throat, he lifted her again, striding across the room to the big leather couch. He gently lowered her back onto the cushions, following her down, down until his delicious weight pressed against her. Every inch of her body was plastered to his, and it felt so good she stretched, rubbing the side of her calf against his hip as they kissed and kissed and kissed. It was as if they were trying to catch up on every moment they’d lost in the years they’d been apart. And neither of them could bear to stop long enough to shed a single item of clothing.

Desperate for more, she reached between them and fumbled with his belt. She managed to get his jeans unzipped, and then she slid her eager fingers inside. His entire body shivered as she filled her hands with him. He broke their kiss, gasping for breath, already rock hard, his hips jerking against her.

Then he was sliding his own hands down her body, and they were like two frantic teenagers all over again, working at each other’s jeans, only managing to get half-undressed before he was poised at her entrance, pushing against her.

He swore and pulled back.

She wrapped her knees around him, trying to pull him down again.

He laughed, his harsh breath rasping against her ears. “Hold it. Just give me a second, sweetheart.”

The sound of foil tearing jolted her out of the haze of passion enveloping her. A condom. Had he kept it in his pocket? That thought had her remembering the interns he’d dated and she stiffened beneath him. But then he was pressing against her again and all her jealousies evaporated beneath the need to have him inside her, filling her. She’d wanted this for so long, with him, and nothing was going to spoil it.

And then he was inside her, and it was even more wonderful than she’d remembered. Her body knew Max’s, yearned for his, as if they’d been made for each other. Every thrust was met with an answering arch of her hips, heightening her pleasure, making his heart gallop faster in his chest where it pressed against hers.

He braced his forearms on the cushions, keeping the full weight of him from crushing her as he made love to her. And she took full advantage of the space between them, sliding her hands up beneath his shirt, relearning his contours, every muscle, every dip. She wanted to slide down his body, taste him, stroke him. But that would have to wait. The delicious things he was doing to her, his clever fingers caressing her as he thrust inside her, were bowing her body back against the couch.

Panting, she drew her knees up on either side of him, twisting, arching, her fingers curling on the leather couch as she strained with him to reach that pinnacle of pleasure she knew was waiting for her.

He leaned down and captured her mouth with his, his back arched, his hips bucking against hers. And then, with one clever stroke of his body and his hand, she came undone in his arms, crying out his name as she exploded in a shower of ecstasy around him.

His powerful body thrust into her several more times, wrenching every last bit of pleasure from her that he could, all while he worshipped her mouth with his. Then he stiffened, his body spasming inside hers as his own climax washed over him. His fingers tightened on her bottom, clinging to her as he spent himself. And then, ever so slowly, like embers from fireworks floating to the ground, he lowered himself to the couch, turning with her in his arms.

They lay there, holding on to each other tightly, their hearts racing, breath coming out in harsh pants until their bodies began to cool and they could once again breathe without rasping.

She kissed the base of his throat, and he whispered romantic words in her ear, making her hot all over again. A few minutes later, he left her long enough to clean up. She should have gotten up, too. But she felt like her bones had turned to water and couldn’t bring herself to do more than pull up her panties and jeans and collapse back onto the couch.

Then he was there, fully clothed again, like her, pulling her into his arms as he cradled her against his chest on the couch.

“I’ll carry you into the bedroom when I get my strength back,” he promised. Seconds later, he was softly snoring.

She smiled, then closed her eyes and joined him.

* * *

THUNDERBOOMEDOVERHEAD, startling Bex out of a deep sleep. She jerked upright in the dark, confusion clouding her mind as she tried to remember where she was. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the family room for a brief second. She let out a breath of surprise. She was on the couch. But Max wasn’t with her. Had he gone to bed and left her there? No, as soon as that thought occurred to her, she pushed it away. He was probably in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen getting a late-night snack.

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