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He shrugged. ‘Just a touch—sweet chilli and lime marinade. It shouldn’t be hot.’
It wasn’t. It was delicious, cooked to perfection and utterly gorgeous, and she was more than ready for it. The wine was a delicate rosé, not so chilled that the flavour was lost, and he followed it with little individual chocolate pots, ready made but wickedness itself, decorated with fresh strawberries and served with a dark, rich Cabernet that was the perfect complement.
‘Wow, Max, that was fabulous,’ she said, pushing her plate away and smiling at him in amazement.
To her surprise, he coloured slightly and gave a wry, selfconscious grin. ‘Thank you. I just—read the instructions.’
‘No, you did much more than that. You went to a lot of trouble to make it right, and it was wonderful. Thank you.’
His smile was warm and did funny things to her insides. ‘It’s a pleasure,’ he said, and she could tell he meant it. ‘Coffee in the sitting room?’
‘That would be lovely.’
‘Go on, then, go and sit down.’
‘What about this lot?’
He shrugged. ‘What about it? It won’t come to any harm. Come on, out of here. I’ll stack the dishwasher while the kettle boils, if that’ll make you happier. Now, shoo.’
She shooed, going into the sitting room with Murphy and putting another log on the fire, then sitting down on the sofa to wait for him. Murphy was sniffing the table, and she pushed him gently out of the way with her foot and looked at the little dish he’d been investigating.
Truffles? Yum. She had one, just to pass the time, and then Max arrived with the tray and gave Murphy a chew to eat by the fire. ‘I thought it might keep him out of the chocolates.’
‘It will. But only till he’s eaten it.’
‘Well, we’ll have to finish them first,’ he said, taking the seat beside her and handing her her coffee. ‘Here—open wide.’
And he put one of the wicked little truffles into her mouth.
‘Mmm. They’re gorgeous,’ she said. Well, she meant to say. It came out a little more garbled than that, and she got the giggles, and he shook his head and slung his arm casually around the back of the sofa behind her and grinned.
‘Oh, dear. Did you have two whole glasses of wine?’ he teased.
‘No, I did not,’ she retorted, recovering her composure and poking him in the ribs. ‘Cheeky.’
‘Two halves, anyway. What did you think of them?’
‘Lovely. They were really nice. I bet they didn’t come from the bargain bucket.’
He chuckled. ‘Not exactly. But I felt it was worth it.’ He trailed a finger down her cheek, and smiled a little wryly. ‘You know, I thought you looked gorgeous this morning, but now…’
His finger dipped, trailing round the neckline of her top, following the edge down towards her cleavage, and she felt the air jam in her lungs.
‘Max.’
His hand dropped away and he straightened up, lounging back in his corner of the sofa and reaching for his coffee. She leant over and picked up a chocolate, and he said, ‘My turn,’ and opened his mouth. Just slightly, just enough so that, when she put the truffle in between his teeth, his lips brushed her fingers, the slightly moist surface catching her skin so that when she took her hand away his lips clung softly to her fingertips.
Her eyes flew up to his, hot and dark and dangerous, and she felt need flow like molten lava through her veins.
His hand came up and caught hold of hers, easing it from his mouth and placing it against his heart, and she could feel the pounding beat beneath her palm, the taut muscles, the coiled tension in him.
And she wanted him.
Now. Tonight.
‘Max?’ she whispered.
He was staring at her mouth, his eyes slightly glazed, and she could see the pulse beating in his throat. His eyes flicked up to hers and locked.
‘Take me to bed.’
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_66d3a552-5507-5e68-bd5b-bc2334a16518)
‘ARE you sure?’
‘Yes.’
With a sharp hiss of indrawn breath, his eyes flickered briefly shut, then opened, locking with hers, burning in their intensity, and he got slowly to his feet and held out his hand, pulling her up so she was standing facing him, just inches away but not quite touching.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘I know.’
He closed his eyes and said something she couldn’t hear, then turned away. ‘We need to put this lot away and sort the dog out.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘No. We’ll both do it. It’ll be quicker.’ He put everything back on the tray and carried it out to the kitchen, Murphy close behind him, and he took the dog out while she put the milk back in the fridge and checked that all the food was out of Murphy’s reach. It was—all except the chocolates.
Max came back in with the dog, picked up the truffles and met her eyes. ‘I’ll bring these,’ he said, and she was instantly taken back to another time, another place, when he’d brought chocolates to bed and fed them to her, one by one, as he’d made love to her.
She could still taste them.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said, his voice taut, ‘or I’ll lose it completely.’ His lips quirked in a fleeting smile, but she could feel the tension coming off him in waves. It matched her own, and suddenly she couldn’t wait any more.
Turning on her heel, she walked out of the kitchen, flicking off the light and leaving him to follow.
She heard him murmur to the dog, close the door, and then she could feel him right behind her, the warmth of his body just a breath away.
‘Your room or mine?’
‘Mine. It’s further from the babies.’
Only just, but she wasn’t at all sure, after so long, that she’d be able to keep a lid on her reaction to his lovemaking—and the shower at work hadn’t been the only time he’d made her scream. Not by a long way.
She turned on the light, but he’d brought the candle, and he put it on the chest of drawers beside the chocolates, lit it and turned out the light. She was grateful for that, because it suddenly dawned on her that he hadn’t seen her body since she’d had the babies, and, between the ravages of breastfeeding, the scar from the C-section and the gain in weight, maybe he needed a rather more subtle introduction to the new her.
But it seemed he wasn’t in any hurry to take her clothes off after all. Instead he tunnelled his fingers through her hair, bent his head and touched his lips to hers.
Just a feather touch, the lightest brushing of skin on skin, but, as he moved his head from side to side, their lips clung, dragging gently, heightening the sensation, until she felt a whimper force its way out of her throat.
Oh, Max, kiss me, she begged silently, and, as if he’d heard her, he anchored her head more firmly with his hands and stroked his tongue across her lips, coaxing them apart.
They needed no coaxing. She opened to him, and with a ragged groan he slanted his mouth over her and plundered it, his mouth hungry on hers, searching, thrusting, his tongue duelling with hers, driving her wild.
Only when they had to break for breath did he lift his head, the air sawing in and out of his lungs, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Jules, I need you,’ he whispered, his voice rough and urgent.
‘I need you, too—please, Max. Now.’
And without any further delay he stripped off his shirt, shucked his trousers and socks and heeled off his shoes in one motion.
The boxers hid nothing, the soft jersey clinging faithfully to his erection, and she felt her mouth dry. It had been so long. Her body was trembling, the need so great she could hardly move, but it was all right, because she didn’t need to. He was there, his hands gently, carefully easing the top over her head—first the lace, then the little camisole—and when he saw the bra he closed his eyes briefly and she saw his lips move soundlessly.
‘Thank God you didn’t show me that in the shop,’ he said at last, and she laughed a little breathlessly.
‘There’s more,’ she said, and he groaned and slid the zip down on her trousers and eased them away.
She sucked her stomach in, but he tutted and ran his hand over it, his hot, dry palm flat against the skin, his fingers trailing fire. One finger flicked at the elastic of her little lace shorts. ‘What are these?’ he said, his voice unsteady.
‘I thought you might like them.’
‘You’re going to kill me,’ he whispered, and, drawing her into his arms, he brought their bodies into contact for the first time.
They both gasped, then sighed, and then eased closer, until finally he lifted his head and met her eyes.
‘Jules—I have to have you now, or I’m going to die, I swear it,’ he said unevenly. ‘I need you so damned much.’
His eyes were bright with fire, and his chest was heaving against hers, the candlelight picking out the sharp definition of his muscles and turning him to gold as he lifted her gently in his arms and laid her on the bed.
He followed her down, his eyes never leaving her face, and then finally he let them track over her, following the line of his hands as they stroked over her skin and left fire in their wake. He ran his knuckles over the edge of her bra, down the line of her cleavage, then turned his hand and cupped her breast, his thumb chafing lightly over her nipple until she thought she’d scream.
‘I want to taste you,’ he muttered gruffly. ‘Every day I watch the babies suckle from you, and…’
She wanted it, too. Ached for it. She undid the catch—front-fastening, she’d thought, for convenience, but she wondered now if she’d had this in mind all along—and he eased the cups away, then slid his hand inside and lifted one breast to his lips.
Milk dewed on her nipple, and he caught it on his tongue and tasted it, then closed his mouth over her and suckled hard.
She gasped, a shaft of white-hot need lancing through her with deadly accuracy, and he lifted his head, his eyes black now, his mouth taut.
For the longest moment they stayed like that, their eyes locked, and then with a desperate sound he stripped away her tiny lace shorts, ripped off his boxers and moved over her, his solid, muscled thighs hard against her legs as he nudged them apart.
‘Jules,’ he whispered.
And then he was there, inside her, filling her, and she felt the storm closing round them, the sensation overwhelming her until suddenly everything broke loose and her climax ripped through her.
He caught her scream in his mouth, trapped it against the savage groan that tore from his chest. And then he rolled her to her side and pulled her in close to him, their bodies still locked together, their hearts racing, and, when she finally opened her eyes, he was looking at her with wonder in his eyes, the lashes clumped with tears.
‘I love you,’ he whispered, and, drawing her close again, he tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her, his hands stroking slowly, rhythmically, against her spine until finally she fell asleep in his arms.
He’d missed her so much.
He’d never told her, hadn’t revealed just how hellish the last year had been. Oh, he’d said a few things, but nothing compared to what was locked up in his heart.
But she was back now, and, if it killed him, he’d make sure he didn’t fail her again.
His arm was going dead, but he didn’t want to disturb her. He was just enjoying the luxury of holding her, and he wasn’t sure how she’d be when she woke up. Distant? Full of regret?
Hell, he hoped not.
And then she stirred, opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he felt the tension ease out of him like a punctured balloon.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi,’ he answered, and feathered a kiss across her lips. ‘You all right?’
‘Mmm. You?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m very all right.’
‘My leg’s dead.’
‘Snap. My arm’s fallen off, I think.’
‘It’s going to hurt.’
‘Uh-huh.’
She grinned. ‘One, two, three—’
He gave a little groan and shifted further out of her way, then laughed and drew her back in to his side, so they lay with fingers intertwined and their heads together on the pillow. ‘Better?’
‘Mmm. Max?’
‘Yes?’
‘I love you.’
‘Oh, Jules.’ He rolled towards her, not caring about the pins and needles in his arm, and kissed her gently. ‘I love you, too.’
‘Good,’ she murmured, and, a second later, he heard a soft, almost imperceptible snore.
He smiled. He’d tease her about that in the morning, he thought, and, shifting closer to her, he curled his hand over her hip and went to sleep.
The babies woke her, and she rolled to her back, opened her eyes and blinked.
It was broad daylight, and she could hear Max’s voice in their room. Getting out of bed and wincing at the unaccustomed aches, she pulled her dressing gown on hastily and went out to them.
‘Hello, my lovelies,’ she said, going into the room, and they beamed at her from their cots.
