Loss united them. Will it also tear them apart?
When her staff abandon her before opening her new restaurant, Sophie, an aspiring chef who refuses to move past the death of her fiancée must let the charming military man Max into not just her bed but...
Max held Sophie's hand the entire drive home. His chest still ached from the sound of her sobs, the feel of her shaking body pressed against him mixed with the crushing knowledge he couldn't give her the thing she wanted; him staying.
Under normal circumstances, he'd be itching to get back on base. Back to the routine. Back to his team. Instead of glee at reading Campbell's "See you at 0900" text earlier, his stomach had plummeted. Only a few more hours left with Sophie.
The string that had started to form before Christmas, to root him to this house, to her, had grown into a thick vine and this time the call to return to duty weighted like an anvil on his chest. If he didn't have to go back to the Navy, didn't have a six-month rotation ahead, he'd be happy to stay here. For the first time, he longed to be somewhere rather than avoid somewhere.
To be with Sophie.
As if she read his mind, her fingers flexed in his grip. He raised them to his lips and kissed each digit.
"Can I stay with you tonight?" she asked.
He turned, stunned she would even ask, expecting to study her face for an indication of where the question came from. Instead, he was met with the back of her head and her ghost-like reflection in the passenger window, like she was fading before him. He swallowed. "Of course."
Silence greeted them when they entered the darkened foyer of the lake house. Max led the way up the stairs and into his bedroom, his heart accelerating with each step. The door to his room made a small click as he locked it, and her fingers tightened around his. He memorized the feel of her palm against his, her fingers interlaced in his, the hard edge of the ring she wore on her right hand.
Not wanting to miss a moment, he flicked on the tall lamp by the reading chair and led her to the bed. The mattress sunk as they sat on the edge, inches apart. That distance felt like miles. With his free hand, he traced one eyebrow, then the other, followed by her nose. His thumb dragged across the seam of her lips, which trembled at his touch. He relished the sensation of his palm pressed against her cheek, the warm skin sending tremors to his heart.
"Max, I—"
He stopped her words with the barest of kisses. Just enough of a touch to hint at the taste of her. A light peck on the corner of her mouth. Soft presses along her jawline, her earlobe, her neck. Her breath hitched and the fingers still holding his squeezed. He avoided her favourite spot, wanting to savour the moment, take his time tonight. Their last night.
He veered back to her cheek, aiming for her lips again. "Tell me you won't forget about me."
A gasp flew from her, and her hand retreated from his. Disappointment shot through him like a cannon ball, obliterating his hope for this last night with her. He cursed his unthinking mouth, always saying the wrong things. Even if his brain had run a million scenarios where Sophie would meet someone else in his absence. Someone smart, successful and sophisticated. Someone who was everything he wasn't. This mysterious man would impress her, and she'd choose to be with him. Unlike Max, who was a convenient distraction while she was exiled in the countryside. She'd invite him to her bed and stay until morning.
The pads of Sophie's fingers pressed into his cheekbones and held his face before her. "Never." Tattered shreds of hope weaved together. "Will you forget about me?"
He almost laughed at the absurdity of her question. But the sound died in his throat as he searched her dark pupils laced with doubt. "Not possible. I'd sooner forget my name than this tiny freckle." His thumb grazed the spot on her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "Or the curve of your lip." He traced her cupid's bow. "Or the taste of your skin." He nuzzled the curve of her throat.
Sophie sighed. Her hands trailed down his torso, fingers tugging at the waist of his jeans. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."
Max stilled her attempts to unbutton his pants, lacing their fingers together. "You do." He peppered her neck with soft kisses, settling on the spot he knew she loved, applying more pressure until an involuntary noise escaped her lips. "That's my favourite sound in the world. It's like you make it just for me, because of me."
"I do."
The breathy words shot straight to his heart. His free hand slipped under her sweater, stroking her skin. A shiver erupted across her stomach. "When you respond to my touch, like your skin is lighting up for me, my entire body comes alive."
"I'm alive with you." Her nails bit into his bicep.
"When you dig your fingernails into my back, like you want me closer even though I'm deep inside you, I feel like a god." He nibbled on her earlobe.
"Oh, Max."
His lips brushed hers. "And when I can kiss you for hours, my heart feels like it might explode I'm so happy." Sophie gripped his shirt. "Sunshine, being with you makes me feel amazing."
Their lips crashed together, and they fell onto the bed. Unable to get close enough, Max covered his body with hers, the soft curves of her body snug underneath him. His hands caressed every hill and valley, creating a map to lead him back home.
***
Time held no meaning. There was only the feel of slick skin against skin. Sophie's heart beating underneath him. The heat of her mouth on his. Her warmth surrounding him, accepting him, holding him. He didn't know how he held on, the base of his spine tingling with an oncoming orgasm. Yet the sensation rolled over him, consumed him, but he managed to stave off the final surge.
Sophie gasped his name, and he almost came undone. Not yet, he told himself. Make it last. Make it the best she'd ever had.
Because although they'd spent night after night in this bed, in the shower, in the car, in the farmhouse kitchen, him inside of her, her rippling around him, this was different. His heart was so full the organ felt like it might burst. Every nerve in his body snapped and sizzled with the pounding pulse of his love for her.
Perhaps he was delirious at this point. High on Sophie. The drug he could never get enough of. Deriving pleasure from her pleasure. An addiction he would happily drown in.
"It's never been like this before. So..." He didn't have the words. He pushed into her, and she responded to his thrusts, arching to meet him.
"Good." The word gushed out of her in a breathless whoosh.
He wanted to ask if it was like this with the other men. The loveless relationships she'd had in the past. More, he was desperate to know if it was like this with one other man. The one man he could never compare to. The one man who had captured her heart. The man she'd agreed to marry.
Sophie caressed his jaw. "It's better."
Had she answered his honest question? He wasn't sure, but he took her words, etched them on a mental piece of paper, folded it three times, and tucked it under his breastbone for safekeeping. To this woman right here, right now, he was better, and that was enough.
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Hey all, DL here. Time is ticking away for this couple. Having Max caught between the only place he has ever felt at home in the Navy and the life he never thought possible with Sophie was the inspiration for his story. I think it's a choice many people in the military have to make.
