Page 23 of My Surprising Valentine

The tension between us felt almost unbearable, an electric current thrumming through the air, and I wanted desperately to close the distance between us—to feel what I’d only dreamed of for years. “You,” I breathed against his skin. “Just you.”

Something snapped in him then. His mouth crashed down on mine, and this kiss was different from the two previous ones—hungry, demanding, years of restraint finally breaking free. I gasped as his body pressed into mine, solid and warm and perfect. His lips were insistent, claiming, igniting a fire within me that had been building for far too long. I responded with everything I had, tangling my fingers in his hair.

“Do you have any idea,” he said between kisses, “how many times I’ve imagined this? How many times I’ve wanted just to grab you and?—”

He broke off with a groan as I nipped at his bottom lip. “Show me,” I challenged, reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie. The silk slid free with a soft hiss, and I moved to undo his shirt buttons. My fingers trembled as I worked, whether from nervousness or excitement, I didn’t quite know. Maybe both. After all, this was Max—the man I’d loved for more than half my life. Suddenly, it felt like every fantasy I’d ever had was rushing to become reality all at once.

His hands caught mine, stilling them against his chest. “Hannah.” The way he said my name—like a prayer and a curse all at once—made heat pool low in my belly. “If we do this, there’s no going back. No pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Good.” I freed one hand to cup his cheek. “I don’t want to go back to how things were before. I want this. I want you. I want?—”

“Are you sure?” His eyes searched mine for any sign of hesitation as his hands—seemingly acting of their own volition—continued to roam eagerly over my body until he paused at the knot at my waist that held my dress together.

In answer, I reached for it myself, tugging it loose. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” My dress fell open, revealing black satin and lace.

Max groaned in appreciation. “Fuck.” With his hungry gaze traversing my curves, I felt vulnerable and exposed, yet also exhilarated by the raw, naked desire I saw in his expression.

His fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path down my shoulder blades, gently pushing at the fabric of my dress until it slid from my body with a soft rustle and pooled at my feet. “You're beautiful,” he breathed out, his voice rough. “So damn beautiful.”

I reached for his shirt again. My fingers worked quickly, driven by a desperation to feel his skin against mine. This time, he let me work the buttons free, watching my face as I pushed the fabric aside and ran my palms over the defined lines of his chest, my fingers memorizing the play of muscles beneath his skin. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered, my fingertips tracing the chiseled ridges of his abdominal muscles.

“Believe it,” he said, backing me toward the bed, his mouth finding mine again. Each successive kiss was deeper, hungrier, like he was trying to make up for all the years we’d lost. When my legs hit the mattress, he murmured against my throat, “Tell me what you like.”

I gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin beneath my jaw, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through me. My fingers curled into his shoulders, grounding myself as my world tilted on its axis. “This,” I managed to say, my voice trembling. “I like this.”

Max smiled against my skin. “Be specific, Hannah,” he teased, his hands gliding down to grip my hips. His thumbs brushed circles over the delicate lace at my waist, setting my pulse racing. “I want to know everything.”

His question—his attention—felt like a command and a gift all at once. He wasn’t rushing or assuming; he was asking … listening. “I like it when you touch me like I’m special,” I admitted, my voice quiet but confident. “But I also want to feel like you can’t hold back. Like you want me as much as I want you.”

He responded with a low growl, pressing his lips against mine in a kiss that was far from restrained. I couldn’t help but moan as his hands slipped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. His rough grip on my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh, was a claiming. “Precious,” hemurmured against my lips before pulling back to meet my gaze. “And so fucking irresistible.”

When my hands found his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle in my haste to touch him, he caught my wrists and brought them to his mouth to press a soft kiss on each of my palms. “Slow down,” he said. “We’ve waited this long; let’s savor it.”

“But I—” The words caught in my throat as he hefted me effortlessly against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bed. Gently laying me down, he followed, his weight settling over me and pressing me into the mattress as his lips continued their intoxicating journey down my throat, across my collarbone, and then lower to explore every exposed inch of me. Every touch, every kiss felt deliberate, like he was memorizing me. My breath hitched when his hands found the sensitive outer curve of my breast, his thumbs brushing just under the line of my bra. “I want to take my time. To make you feel everything,” he murmured, reverence thick in his voice.

“You already do,” I said, threading my fingers through his hair and tugging him back up to my mouth. This kiss was softer, slower, a stark contrast to the hunger from before. It was a promise, a declaration of something far more profound than desire.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve lain awake thinking about you, imagining us like this,” he said against my lips, his voice rough with need.

“I think I might.” I arched my back as he traced a featherlight path up my stomach and over my breasts, the tips of his fingers circling my nipples.

“As much as I love this scrap of lace masquerading as a bra, I want to see you. Taste you.”

“Yes,” I whispered, the word tumbling from my lips as I pushed up onto my elbows to give him access. “Please.”

With practiced ease, he unhooked the delicate clasp of my bra and tossed it aside, revealing my bare breasts. The cool air brushed against my bare chest, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. His gaze intensified, filled with a primal hunger and adoration that made me weak in the knees. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he leaned forward, his lips pressing against my skin with reverence, worshiping each breast with delicate kisses, gentle bites, and hot breaths against my skin.

I gasped as he whispered words of praise and desire into my ear:Look at how you’re trembling for me. I can’t wait to put my mouth on you. To finally taste you on my tongue.

His hands roamed over my every curve, igniting a fire within me that only he could quench. “Fuck, I love your tits,” he growled, his gentle touch paired with his rough words igniting sensations I’d never felt before. When his mouth eventually locked around the sensitive peak of my nipple and he tugged, I moaned with pleasure, my fingers gripping his shoulders tightly, holding on for dear life.

Max’s mouth grew hungrier, more insistent, as his hands slid down to caress my hips before hooking his fingers into the waistband of my panties. With deliberate care, he pulled them slowly down my legs—his movements unhurried but purposeful, each touch sending sparks of electricity through my body—until I was completely exposed to him.

I was a stuttering, mumbling, trembling mess of a woman by the time he finally settled between my thighs, his eyes locking on mine as his hot breath tickled against my skin. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee. “Nothing I’ve imagined comes close to the reality of you,” he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

“Then stop imagining,” I said breathlessly, letting my leg fall open in welcome. “I’m right here.”

He smiled, a sinful curve of his lips that promised untold pleasure. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he lowered his headbetween my thighs and licked a decadent stripe along my skin that made me see stars.

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