As if reading her thoughts, Max hooked his finger around the scrap and brushed a knuckle against the aching bud. Evie gasped, instinctively lifting her hips to deepen the contact but he moved his hand away again, in exquisite torment. She laced her fingers through his hair.
‘Max.’ The raw voice didn’t sound like her own. ‘I need you inside me.’
He barely paused in his attentions.
‘Not tonight.’
It was a wrench but Evie forced herself to pull away from him, lifting her shoulders off the bed so that she could see him.
‘You heard the nephrologist—four to six weeks post-op,’ he reminded her, moving to lower his head again, but Evie pressed her hand against him, stopping him.
How could he sound so casual about it? This was torturous for her.
‘Max...’
‘That’s a minimum of two weeks, three days and twenty-two and a half hours.’
‘You’re counting in days and hours?’ A gurgle of laughter escaped her. He wasn’t as composed about all this as she’d thought. And she was glad about that.
‘From the moment we made that damned deal,’ Max gro
und out. ‘And it’s taking more willpower than you can possibly imagine not to take you right now. So will you please shut up, and let me concentrate on just...exploring you?’
Evie hesitated. This wasn’t exactly going as she’d planned in her head.
‘Max...’ Her objection evaporated from her brain as Max pulled aside the lace material again and flicked his tongue against her swollen skin. Unable to keep herself upright any longer, she fell back onto the pillows as he sucked and licked at the sensitive bud, sending mini fireworks exploding through her belly.
Max slid his finger inside her, his mouth unrelenting in its devilish benevolence as she jiggled in response. She gave a guttural moan moments before the orgasm shattered through her, and Max instinctively slid his hands around to hold her bottom in place, stopping her from writhing away; his tongue and finger coaxing a longer, more intense orgasm than she’d ever known. Evie’s body shook with the impact of it as she cried out his name, but he didn’t let her go until he was convinced he couldn’t tease anything more out of her.
Falling back down, she held her breath in anticipation until Max pulled himself up the bed to haul her into his arms. Evie nestled against his shoulder gratefully, wishing she would never have to leave the security of his embrace. It had been too long. Not just since the last time she’d had sex. But since the last time she’d been with Max. There would never be anyone else for her who would match up to him.
But if there was to be any chance that this could be more than just sex, she knew she was going to have to start by telling him about the fact she’d met his parents. And she needed to do it now.
Okay, tomorrow.
Or maybe the day after that.
She needed to be more sure of how Max felt about her. His love for his daughter was clear, but what then?
Lying down, Evie allowed Max to snuggle her in his arms. For all her efforts to take the lead, in the end her confidence hadn’t been as high as she’d hoped and she’d been only too happy to let Max take over. So for now she was just going to enjoy this moment. She’d been dreaming of it for long enough.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘SO THIS IS Silvertrees Old Town?’ Evie breathed. ‘It’s incredible up here, so peaceful. And I can see for miles.’
Max watched her angle her head to let the rays of sun heat her skin, despite the cool breeze of the high viewing platform, her hands resting on hip-height grey stone wall.
‘It is stunning,’ he agreed quietly.
‘Do you get chance to come here that much?’
He dropped his hand to cradle the back of Imogen’s head as she nestled against his chest in her baby harness, buying himself a moment to think whether he wanted to answer.
Somehow, it felt like something particularly personal. Ever since they’d first been intimate again, he’d begun to open up more and more to Evie, trusting her in a way he had never trusted anyone before.
‘When I can, usually on a run,’ he found himself admitting with more ease than he’d anticipated. ‘Especially if I want to clear my head before a particularly complex operation. Although I come here less during tourist season—you wouldn’t believe how busy it gets then.’
‘Really?’ She glanced around, taking in the boarded-up stalls. Barely a soul was around at this moment, except for a few artists sketching or painting the spectacular vista. Only the ticket office was open, although a couple of owners were taking advantage of the off-season to repair and repaint their little shops built into the rock face.