Page 43 of Driven By Desire
Her hips rotated in an unconscious motion bringing wet silk in contact with the hot evidence of his arousal and had him groaning. Flipping her on to her back, he reached between them to return the caress. Moaning, she wrapped her legs around his waist in a silent invitation that couldn’t be ignored anymore.Sheathing himself, he covered her naked, trembling body with his own. Reaching down to kiss her with all the emotion dammed up inside of him, he slipped one hand under her hips and lifted her to him. Not breaking the kiss, he pushed in to the wet, inviting warmth of her.
As he started to move inside her, one slender hand came up to frame his face. When he buried his face in the crook of her neck, she curved her palm across the back of his head and held him to her. Pressing a kiss to his sweat slicked shoulder, she closed her eyes and gave in to the immensity of feeling sweeping through her. She came apart in a burst of sensation that left her boneless and spent.
“Max.” Her name escaped him like a prayer. With one last push, Krish held her close and followed a heartbeat later. In the soft, gentle aftermath, Max cradled Krish to her in an embrace of heartbreaking tenderness that had him shattering into a million pieces. He had a feeling he might never be able to be whole again if he didn’t have Max’s arms to return to.
CHAPTER 16
Spooned against six feet of gorgeous, muscled male, Max figured it was okay if she didn’t move for the next eternity or so. Until her stomach growled. Loudly and quite definitively. The rumble of laughter that reverberated through her ridiculously relaxed body made her want to stretch and purr like a cat. Except her stomach gave a louder rumble. It seemed to think it was a competition. Wanting to be mortified but unable to dredge up enough energy to care, she turned to face him.
Eyes lit with amusement, he slowly stroked a hand down her rib cage. “You’re hungry.”
“Really?” Propping herself up on one arm, she gasped, “How did you know?”
“Cheeky brat.” Chuckling, he dipped his head to capture those smiling lips. Sinking into the kiss, he left her breathless before turning to get out of bed. Gloriously naked. Stretching, he bent to pick up his jeans from where it was discarded in all the excitement only to have his butt soundly pinched.
“Ouch. What the hell?” Rubbing the smarting portion, he turned to gape at a smug, smirking Max.
“Was just trying to convince myself that all this was real and not a dream.”
“I think,” pointedly continuing to rub his ass, he said, “you’re supposed to pinch yourself.”
“But yours is so much more tempting.” Scooting over, she placed a loud, smacking kiss on the portion he still had an embarrassed hand over and strode across to the cupboard behind him. Grabbing a robe, Max shrugged into it before tossing a beaming smile at a still bemused Krish and leaving the room.
“What do you want for dinner?” Her voice floated back to him and had him pulling on the jeans he was still clutching protectively against himself. Following her in, he found her rummaging through the fridge.
“You’re going to cook?”
“God, no.” Straightening triumphantly with a microwave bowl in her hands, Max turned and promptly lost her trend of thought. In jeans that were zipped and not buttoned and nothing else, he made gorgeous look mundane.
Quite unable to help herself, she walked over and stood on tip toe to reach those delicious lips. Drawing him into a kiss that was both tender and urgent, all at the same time, Max forgot all about dinner and moved straight through to dessert. Forgetting all about the dish she still held, she reached up to wind her arms around him only to conk him on the head.
“Ow! Shit. Max!!!”
The aggrieved tone had her wisely swallowing her giggle and checking solicitously for a bump. She tried for contrite but only managed a wobbly ‘sorry’ that had him looking at her suspiciously.
“Do you like stew?” she asked, brightly.
“Your dad’s stew.” At her nod, he sent up a fervent prayer of thanks. Mr. Sheridan’s stew was definitely worth a bump on the head. “Let’s eat.”
Nuking it in the microwave, Max popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. Ladling the stew into bowls, Max carried them to the table as Krish retrieved the toast. Settling in, they ate in companionable silence. When she was scraping the bottom of her bowl, Max cleared her throat. When Krish looked over at her enquiringly, she said, “I’m sorry about using language in front of Pooja. It slipped out in the heat of the moment but that’s not an excuse. I promise not to do it again or at least I promise to try to not do it again.”
Swallowing the last of his stew, Krish got up to clear the table. “Sit,” he ordered, when Max made to rise. Running water in the sink, he started to wash the dishes. “A few years back, we attended a family wedding. Pooja was about six then, I think.”
Surprised at the tangent the conversation was taking but not wanting to interrupt, Max settled back in her chair to listen. “It was one of the first formal events we were attending since we’d sort of found our feet and I was determined we’d make a good impression. No one, and I mean no one, was going to say look at what happened to those kids after their parents passed away. So, the three of us got dressed in our silk kurtas and we got Pooja into one of those adorable little ghaghra cholis. She looked like a doll. Chirag and I even bought bangles and bindis to completethe outfit. Anyway, we arrived at the wedding with our gift and our little platoon of Mehras and were immediately swamped with well-meaning uncles and nosy aunties. We did good that evening. Everyone was on their best behavior and we made it all the way to dessert without one snide remark or whispered aside aimed our way.”
Max felt something move inside her at the soft smile on his lips as he shook his head at the memory. She loved it when he smiled.
“We were sitting in a circle and chatting with some of our relatives while simultaneously trying to stop Adi from emptying out the buffet counter when one of the uncles coaxed Pooja into dancing with him to the blaring Punjabi music assaulting us. It was adorable. She came up to his knees and had absolutely no rhythm in her body but she was having a blast. The rest of us were proudly clapping, hooting and generally cheering her on until the music cut off abruptly. In the sudden silence that followed, one tiny little voice piped up. ‘Oh fuck.’ That’s it. Just ‘Oh fuck.”
Max’s rich, uninhibited laughter spilled through the cosy kitchen and had him grinning at the memory. Drying the bowls, he sat them aside and turned. “You know I never knew what people meant when they said deafening silence until that moment. Even Adi abandoned his gulab jamuns as we grabbed Pooja and ran from the accusing glares and disapproving frowns. Definitely wasn’t the impression we wanted to make!”
Coming to sit in front of her, he grabbed those smooth, bare legs and pulled them into his lap. Massaging her feet with slow, sure caresses, he murmured, “We’ve all made our share of mistakes, Max, and I’m sure we’ll make them again. All we can do is try notto.” Leaning forward to kiss one perfect little toe, he said, “That’s why I said you don’t have to apologize. It’s not what I came for.”
Melting all over again, Max pulled her feet out of his sinfully tempting grasp and moved over to slide into his lap. Resting his head against the soft comfort of her breasts, he murmured, “I should go. I don’t want to be caught doing the walk of shame in the morning.”
Running a hand through his hair, Max tugged his head up for one last, luscious kiss. Moaning softly, when he angled his head and deepened the kiss, she let him take control and sank into it. Cupping her cheek, Krish slowly gentled and softened the kiss until they broke apart reluctantly.
“I’ll see you soon.”
