"To lose someone you love is horrible, but to lose your child, the promise of a family at the same time— you had a right to go more than a little crazy." What would it be like to be loved so fully, passionately by this intense man?
Max jerked upright, her hand falling away. "The baby wasn't planned, but I wanted it. Eva hadn't decided whether or not to take on me and my j—'' he paused, frowned "—my lifestyle permanently."
His lifestyle? What was wrong with marrying a professor? Eva lost serious points in Darcy's book if the woman hadn't been able to see beyond the beach bum facade to the serious man beneath.
"Hell, maybe she was right." He hooked his elbows on his knees and stared out at the sun sinking into the horizon. "Who knew what kind of father I would have been? Failing at a relationship is one thing. Failing a kid...I had to get it right. A child deserves more than a father who communicates with grunts." Max shot Darcy a wry smile. "Maybe I have more in common with my old man than I thought."
Guilt pinched her over her teasing and she sat up, swinging around onto her knees to face him. "I might razz you about your...short answers, but you pack more into a few words than most people do in a two-hour monologue."
"That's a nice thought." He hooked a finger in her dog tags as if subconsciously drawn to them. "But you're reading more into me than is there, Darcy."
"I disagree." She clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him. "I think maybe there's a lot more to you than even you know."
His knuckles grazed her cheek, dusting sand away. "The eternal optimist."
A smile played with his mouth, and in that moment of closeness, she knew. They'd definitely crossed a line. He was going to kiss her. Their problems still lurked between them, but for some reason they'd both decided to forge ahead.
Her stomach clenched. She wasn't going to launch an advance. But she was done retreating.
Max studied the lips he intended to kiss senseless in less than five seconds. "You're a nice woman, Darcy."
"Nice?" Her smile played with those full and tempting lips. "Sheesh, if you call me cute too, I'll have to deck you."
He laughed. And it felt good. Darcy's optimism made him feel good after a helluva long time of feeling so damned bad.
She didn't move toward him, not even a waver. He'd given her plenty of cause to be wary. He'd bruised her pride. But damn it he'd been in hell himself, caught between protecting her from more coincidences while keeping her safe from him. Right now he couldn't think of a single reason why he needed to do the latter anymore.
Droplets of water from her hair rolled down her neck. Lucky water. He leaned to drink the bead from her skin. Perfect. Satisfying yet addictive.
Max glanced up to gauge her reaction for any sign she wanted to deck him after all.
Her smoky eyes stared back, her lips parted, inviting. Damned if he didn't intend to take her up on the invitation.
Max kissed her finally, fully dipping into the warm heat of her mouth and tasting undiluted Darcy. She locked her arms around him, her hands roving along his bare back with frantic urgency. They tumbled to the sand side by side, and he surrendered to the mind-drugging draw of kissing Darcy.
All the enthusiasm she poured into life flowed over him, encompassed him as if he'd plunged back into the water. Like he was deep in the grips of nitrogen narcosis, his mind swirled with the intoxication of having her in his arms.
Sand beneath them, sun over them, wind stirring up the salty sea air, Max palmed her head and her waist, bringing her flush against him. He traced the high-cut hip of her suit. Darcy moaned, arched closer with an encouraging wriggle.
He tucked his hand inside, cupped the silky softness of her taut bottom. Pulled her closer. Closer again. Nowhere near close enough to ease the throbbing ache as he rocked against her hips.
Max tore his mouth from hers. He had to taste more of her. All of her, in case there wasn't another time. He trailed hungry kisses down her neck, lower to the plunging neckline of her suit. Found the generous curve of her breasts.
Found a tight peak straining against Lycra.
He slipped her shoulder strap to the side and eased the creamy mound free. Tan lines. Max groaned, just before he laved that needy peak. Her fingers clutched his hair, tighter, drew him closer, begged for more. And he intended to give her all she could handle. His fingers trailed forward inside her suit, skimming the seam until he reached...
Her. Hot, wet Darcy. And so damned tight.
Her sigh whispered through his hair just as her mile-long leg hooked over his hip, opening her to his touch. She urged his face back up to hers. The woman certainly knew her mind, and he wasn't arguing in the least since they wanted the same thing.
Her total and complete release.
He stroked, teased...coaxed her closer. Her gasps filled his mouth. Faster. Filled him as he wanted to fill her but couldn't afford to lose that much control even as her breathy moan signaled her own spiraling loss of control. He could give her this much, damn it.
Wanted to see her unravel.
Would see her unravel soon—