We get our dessert to go, and although I didn't see him text anyone, somehow Gabe is there to drive us back to the hotel. He must have rented a car, which makes me wonder what type of business he was taking care of after he spoke briefly with Max then left Gino's hotel earlier today. I feel, not for the first time, that whatever I know is much less than the whole story. That this trip to New York is part of a bigger picture that I've only seen a small piece of.
We don't speak on the ride back. I don't know what to say, especially with Gabe right there in the car, so we make the drive back in silence. I squeeze his hand and feel the warmth radiating from our connection. But when he looks at me, I can't read the expression on his face.
Is he regretting sharing his mother's history with me? It explains so much. But I know he is not a man who makes a habit of revealing his feelings.
Gabe drops us at the front entrance, and deals with the valet, while Max and I head up in the elevator, still silent.
When we step into the suite Max shuts the door and turns to me and when I look at him I don't see the crime boss who meted out his own form of discipline to an employee who broke the rules. I see a man who is still haunted by the trauma his mother endured long before he was even born. A man who has not been able to share with me yet how she died. I'm just now realizing how much pain lives behind his veneer of arrogant and even ruthless control.
I reach up and touch his face, staring into eyes that so rarely provide a glimpse of the man underneath the image. Right now, I see the loss and the pain behind the determination. The blue of his eyes goes even deeper as he studies me, and the bag with the carefully packed desserts slips out of my hand and falls to the floor, forgotten.
I go up on my toes, put my hands on his shoulders and press my lips lightly against his. The kiss is soft, lingering and intense all at the same time. Max puts his hand behind my neck, his fingers gripping my hair against my scalp, and tilts my head back so he can look directly at my face.
His voice is low and sexy without even trying.
"Don't start something, Hadley, that you don't want me to finish."
My answer is to run my own hands through his hair, grip him tightly and pull his head back down to mine, fusing our lips together. This time I kiss him like I really mean it.
"Are you asking me to make love to you, Hadley?" he says, as he lifts me up and I clamp my legs around his waist. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes." My answer comes out in a breath, like a sigh. "Yes, if only for tonight. I want to make love to you, Max."
He carries me into the bedroom and sets me down so that we're standing face to face. Then he slowly unfastens the band collar around my neck, and the fabric of my cover-up dress slides down my body and pools on the floor. His gaze moves over me.
"I'm not sorry at all," he finally says, "that Gino and Joey D didn't get the chance to see you in this."
"Me neither." I tremble as he releases the bikini top, freeing my breasts, and I slide the palms of my hands under his shirt and over his chest, then move my hands lower and fumble to unfasten his pants. He catches my hands in his, then raises them to his lips and kisses them softly.
"Turn around," he tells me, and I do. He slides the palm of one hand down over my hip and then caresses my bottom, which is pretty much bare in the bikini that's practically a thong, while his other hand moves around me to tease my breasts.
"Yeah," he says, "Gino is never seeing you in this." His voice hardens slightly. "Don't wear this for anyone but me."
His hand slips between my legs, stroking me through the narrow bit of fabric that holds the bathing suit together, and I moan.
His breath is warm against the back of my neck as he brings his hand back to caress my bottom again.
"Someday I'm going to spank you in this sexy little bikini," he tells me, and a hot stab of arousal shoots through me. I can't help how that thought excites me. "But not tonight," he says, as he takes both hands and gently slides the bikini bottom down until it drops to the floor. "Tonight I'm going to take you, right now and just like this," he continues as he bends me over the bed, nudging my knees apart with his leg.
"If this isn't what you want, Hadley, say it now."
Every nerve in my body is tingling with anticipation, yearning for his body against me, inside me, and I tell him the truth. "I need you right now, Max, more than I need to breathe."
His hands leave me for what seems like a mere second while he discards all of his clothes except his shirt, now hanging open. Then he's leaning over me, the hard length of him entering me deep and smooth while I brace my hands on the bed and he grips my hips with both hands and goes deeper. The loose fabric of his shirt brushes against my skin, adding more sensations that only drive me up higher.
"Max." The only word I can manage is his name as he fills me completely and starts to move. My hips are responding, catching his rhythm and meeting his pace. I want him to go faster but he controls every movement, each slow stroke taking me closer and closer to release, building and building until the orgasm sweeps through me like rolling waves on a moonlit beach, receding for a moment only to return with more force again and again.
While I'm still gasping, shuddering, he lifts me onto the bed. He tugs off my sandals and tosses them aside. Now I'm completely naked except for the Claddaugh bracelet still on my wrist. I get up on my knees, reach up and grab the front of his shirt and push it back over his shoulders. I want to feel his chest pressing against mine, skin to skin. Feel our hearts beating together.
Max shrugs the shirt the rest of the way off then rolls us over on the bed so that I'm on top, straddling him. Before I can catch my breath, he's back inside me. I've had no chance to recover and the heat is already building again. His hands are everywhere, his gaze never leaving mine.
"Go over again, Hadley," he says, as those talented fingers find their way to my breasts. Soft caresses, gentle strokes and I realize the fact that I'm now on top only gives me an illusion of control. It's Max who is setting the pace, driving me up and over again. "Come for me once," he demands, "for every day we've been apart."
I dig my fingers into his shoulders and he tips me forward slightly so that his mouth has access to my breasts. His lips close around my nipple, while his hand continues stroking and teasing the other nipple to a taut peak.
I'm starting to spiral, losing my grip on reality as a panoply of sensations and emotions wash over me.
"Max, slow down, it's too much. I can't take it."
"Take more," he says, reaching with his free hand to caress my bottom, pressing me forward even more. "Take everything." His mouth is relentless, his tongue circling my nipple sending low, liquid pulls through my body while his hand palms my other nipple then catches it between his fingers and tugs gently.
And everything is what I want from him. My hands flutter over his chest, tracing little patterns as his muscles ripple underneath. Something is shifting between us and I'm powerless to stop it.
"When I look at you, Hadley, all I can think about is how much I want you," he murmurs, living his chin slightly so he can look into my eyes.
"Then take me, Max. Take me, and I'll take you."
He shifts us again and now I'm under him, staring up into the blue depths of his eyes, as if I can see into his very soul. I'm afraid of what I see there, afraid of what he might see in my eyes. Afraid of something so intimate I might never be able to let it go. I reach up, trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, murmur the sounds lovers share when words are lost to them.
"Hadley," he says, and his voice is like the whisper of a breeze on a soft summer night. He sinks into me, presses me close as our legs intertwine and I have the sudden inexplicable urge to cry. Then he's carrying me up, up, and over again as we move like one person, one body, one mind. Skin sliding against skin, hearts beating the same rhythm. There's no sharp flash of heat this time, no race to the finish. Time might as well stand still for all I know of its passing.
My entire body quivers like a long-held note on a violin until, swamped with languid pleasure, the orgasm lifts me in a steady wave, powerful and inexorable as the tide, and shimmers through me, draining me of all thought.
The weight of him is a blanket cocooning me while every nerve in my body hums in limp satisfaction. Max shifts to his side, pulls me against him, and there is nowhere left to go but sleep. As I drift away I hear him murmur there will only ever be you.
I want to answer him, tell him that for me, he is also the only one, but exhaustion and spent emotions overtake me, and I fall into a deep dreamless sleep listening to the steady beat of his heart.
* * *
When I open my eyes to sunlight streaming through the window, the sensible part of my brain is telling me this was a mistake. Max is still who he is, and I am still who I am. He's in far too deep to ever turn his back on the life he has chosen. The life that was chosen for him.
My moral code and my sense of justice are essential to my very being. To abandon them would be to abandon everything I've always believed about the world and my place in it.
But even knowing that, I'm not sorry.
The things I felt last night can't be unfelt. The words we said can't be unspoken. The only question is, where do we go from here?
I turn on my side, not fully awake, and reach for Max.
He's not there.