of being, and she shattered even as his mouth held her, caressed her.
She would, she thought, giving herself over to him, always be his.
Maximos lifted her from the chair and carried her to the bed. The velvet bed coverlet rubbed at her skin as she lay back. Maximos followed, stretching out over her, his weight settling on her. Even though she’d just experienced the pinnacle of pleasure, she still wanted him, and the desire to be joined with him was intense.
“Are you protected?” he asked, making room for his body between her thighs.
“I’m still on the pill.” Not that it had protected her last time. Not that Maximos would ever know. There were some things she’d carry with her to the grave.
Confident that they could safely precede, Maximos touched her, made sure she was ready for him, and of course she was. But even though she wanted him, it still hurt when Maximos entered her. He was big, hard, and taking him inside her had always stretched her, required a quick breath to help her adjust to his size. But tonight the sting of pain was already giving way to pleasure. The feeling was unreal, the sensation of him in her, filling her, taking her, so addictive and so familiar.
Something happened when his skin was on hers, his body in hers. She felt fierce, hungry, craven. With him in her, making love to her, she knew she’d do just about anything for him. Nothing was unthinkable. Nothing taboo.
And maybe that’s how she’d fallen for him. Not for his kindness or his tenderness, but his skill in bed. Because making love with Maximos felt like love. When he touched her, covered her, she couldn’t imagine anyone else touching her again. Couldn’t fathom desire—need—pleasure with anyone else. Just once with Maximos had changed her forever.
Cass the Invincible would never have believed such a thing was possible.
Now with Maximos’s body covering her, and his warmth penetrating her skin, she felt consumed by the hunger that had once raged inside her. They’d been together for over two years and the sex had never grown stale, the desire never waned.
Again, she’d silently begged, again. Again.
Again.
And he had, until the day she wanted more from him than his body. When she’d asked for his heart.
And that, she’d discovered, was the wrong thing to ask for.
The pain of remembering couldn’t dampen the erotic pleasure he gave her now. Her body loved his, wanted him, and as Maximos surged into her in deep, powerful thrusts, she gave herself over to him yet again as they climaxed together.
Later, it was wordless silence, the night dark, the room still, the air thick with tension, with all that was unsaid. Because there was so much unsaid that couldn’t, wouldn’t, be spoken now. That would never be spoken now.
Lying there in the dark with Maximos next to her, Cass felt as if a massive weight lay on her chest and her throat was slowly squeezing closed. She couldn’t breathe, not well, not easily.
She knew how this would end. Knew what was coming next. She dreaded what was coming next.
He’d get up, and leave.
She hated the leaving part, had always hated the leaving part but it seemed positively excruciating now.
What she should do was leave, right now. She shouldn’t wait for him to get up, shouldn’t wait for him to make the move. Instead she should be strong.
Cass swallowed, touched the edge of the duvet, preparing to throw it back. All she had to do was get up. Stand up. Yet her body wouldn’t move, and she lay, inert, lay in silence and pain.
Making love again had ripped her wide-open all over again. Taken whatever thin covering lay over her wounds, peeling it off, leaving her even more bare and exposed than before.
Sex for him was a release.
Sex for her was love itself.
Cass felt Maximos stir beside her. He was going to leave. Panic rushed through her, the panic of leaving fantasy and returning to reality, the panic of knowing how bad she’d feel once he’d left, the panic of facing the pain—alone—of being alone after being with the person she loved most.
“Don’t go,” she whispered, putting her hand out, placing her hand in the middle of Maximos’s chest. His heart beat so warm and steady beneath her palm. Something inside her knotted and she thought life had never been so beautiful and awful. “Stay. Stay with me.”
She felt Maximos’s indecision, felt the ripple in his muscles as he considered whether to get up or lay down again and she found herself repeating her plea. “Stay with me until morning. Please?”
He hesitated a moment longer and then he pressed against her palm, moving her hand out of the way. “Can’t stay all night. There’s too much for me to do still tonight.”
The pain was almost too much. She took a quick breath, and another. Why had she come here? Why had she done this? She wasn’t strong enough. Since losing the baby she wasn’t strong at all…
“Maximos.” She touched her mouth to his chest, kissing his warm still damp skin. “Another hour then. That’s all I’ll ask for. I promise.”
“I’ll have to go sooner or later.”
She knew that. She knew how it worked. She felt like she was always robbing Peter to pay Paul. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed before drawing her close, settling her slim body next to his. “For the next hour I’m yours.”
Maximos felt Cass take a swift breath, heard the faint catch in her voice. “Mine for an hour,” she whispered.
She was fighting tears.
Maximos felt a stab of remorse, regret for the things that couldn’t be changed, regret that Cass had ever been hurt by their relationship because she had been hurt, very hurt, and it was the last thing he’d wanted.
From the beginning he’d tried to shield her from his life, from the reality that was, from the facts that couldn’t be changed no matter how many times you looked at them.
From the beginning he’d wanted to protect her. She deserved protection, deserved to be cherished. He knew about her past, knew her mother had been left, abandoned, and knew the one man her mother had fallen for years later had been unavailable. Emotionally. Spiritually. Legally.
Cass should never have been his mistress. She should have been someone’s wife. Treasured. Respected. Valued.
Stifling the anger and self-loathing within him, Maximos drew her even closer, held her more securely and kissed the top of her head. Not an hour, he silently corrected. Yours forever.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DON’T look at the clock, Cass told herself, don’t watch time pass. Because an hour was nothing. An hour was brutally short. Just sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds. An hour would be gone in no time.
And despite being held so securely, Cass felt pain at being in Maximos’s arms, not joy. Because she was waiting
