“I’m right here,” I whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He tugs on my dress, and I lift my arms as he pulls it off and tosses it to the side. His smoky eyes drop to my breasts, skim over my belly. His fingers tighten on my hips. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about this. You. This body. The sounds you make when you’re about to come. The way you taste here.” He brushes the pad of his thumb over my nipple. “And here.” Grazes my navel. His voice drops deeper, and he slides his hand between my legs and cups me. “Imagined how you’d taste here.”

“Max,” I whimper, my h*ps rocking into the pressure of his hand.

“Don’t ever doubt my attraction to you. You are it for me, Hanna. I don’t need anyone else, and I don’t want anyone else.” He drops his head to my breast and sucks me through the lace of my bra. Pulling my nipple into his mouth, he sends a painful pulsing and vibrating between my legs, where his hand rubs me over my panties.

I fumble with the remaining buttons on his shirt, yanking it down his arms until he tosses it onto the floor. His skin is smooth and hot over thick muscle, and suddenly I need to memorize it. My mouth and hands are all over him, my fingers skimming across the flat plains of his abs as I take his shoulder into my mouth and bite softly. He groans as I nip, bite, and suck my way up to his neck and my fingertips slides under the waistband of his pants.

I unbutton his pants and draw his dick from his briefs, and he steps back.

His gaze roams over me, hungry and greedy, but he doesn’t step closer. He nods approvingly and eyes my bra and panties. “Let me see all of you.”

I release the clasp on my bra first and let it fall to the floor. Then I hook my fingers at each side of my panties and wiggle them off my hips. I don’t turn off the lights and hurry into bed and under the covers. I stand exposed in the light, wanting him to see the softness in my belly and the stretch marks at the tops of my thighs. This is my body, for better or worse.

When I meet his gaze again, his eyes have gone darker, his pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring. He grunts and steps closer. “My attraction to you has never been pretend. You’re f**king beautiful, and you always have been. And when I imagine your belly round with these babies…” He brushes his fingers across my stomach, and my eyes fill.

“I want you,” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around that thick length of him again. “Here. Now.”

His eyes darken and his nostrils flare. “Don’t test me.”

“I’m not testing you. I’m asking you.” I stroke him, squeeze and releasing, squeezing and releasing. “I never wanted to wait until marriage to have sex.”

Hurt slashes across his face at my words.

“Max, I was scared that you’d see me na**d and realize I wasn’t as beautiful as you’d convinced yourself I was, scared that I wouldn’t be able to make up for it with my seduction skills. I was terrified I’d disappoint you.”

“Jesus. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever touched. You would never disappoint me.”

“I finally believe that.” And I finally see how much damage I did by not believing it sooner. I press a hand to his chest, and his skin is hot against my fingers. I trace the line of hair between his pecs and over his stomach, down to the dragon tattoo on the V of his pelvis, and he draws in a sharp breath. “Do you mean what you said about that night at the gallery?”

“The gallery?”

I take him in my fist. His eyes shut and he clenches his fists at his sides, hanging on to control.

“What I said?” he manages.

“About the first time you kissed me? About what you wanted from me that night?” I move over him in long strokes. “Do you still feel that way?”

“It’s different now,” he says. “I want you just as much—more—than I did then, but I love you too. I love you so much that I want to give you everything. I want to make you happy and safe. And when you told me that you wanted to wait for marriage, those two desires came into direct conflict with each other.” He kisses the inside of my wrist, then my palm. “I guess I’m a little slow, though. I thought what you wanted was to wait. But what you really meant”—he forces his gaze back to mine—“and help me out here, because I’m not fluent in female—”

I giggle, and the seriousness of his expression breaks for a minute.

“—you meant that you needed to believe you were beautiful, needed to see what I see, before we made love.”

I can’t do anything but give him a sad smile, because that’s exactly what I needed. He dips his head and brushes a kiss across my lips and in the corners of my eyes.

“I think you speak female okay,” I whisper.

He cuffs both of my hands behind my back with one of his. “I can’t think when you’re touching me like that.” He runs his free hand up the side of my body and works his tongue at my neck, and I arch toward him in response, my br**sts pressing against his chest.

“Please,” I murmur as his thumb circles my navel.

I can feel his sigh in the crook of my neck when he says, “I love you, Hanna.”

“I love you too.” A single, hot tear rolls down my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

48. Max

I’M KISSING her. My hands are in her hair and my mouth is on hers, and I’m so desperate to drink her in that I don’t stop her when I feel her reaching for my c**k again. I’m already lost.

She tears her mouth from mine and presses kisses to my neck and across my pecs and abs. When she skims her tongue over my tattoo, I have to pull her back to me. All those months we were together, she insisted any time we touch be about me. I can’t let this first time back together be that way. I need to show her.

I lead her to the bedroom and turn on the lights.

When I step back to look at her, she lets me. None of the insecure covering or turning off the lights she used to do. She lets me look my fill.

I rake my eyes over her again and again, drinking her in. “You woke up without your memory, and you just assumed you’d gotten over all of your hang-ups over the last year.” I step closer so I can feel her br**sts against my chest. I slide my hand between her legs as I whisper in her ear. “It was a miracle to me because you were suddenly willing to let me see you. To let me touch you. And when we were in the steam room and I got to kiss you for the first time here…” I brush my knuckles over her. She’s already wet, and I’m dying to slide my fingers inside her, to feel her wrapped around them as I make her come. She digs her nails into my shoulders and shudders in pleasure at the faint contact. I want more. Need more. “I felt so damn guilty for keeping the whole truth from you, but I’m an asshole, Hanna. I’m a f**king selfish ass who had to bury his face between your legs before you remembered—to show you pleasure, to prove to you how f**king much I want you.” My knuckles brush again, and she gasps, her fingers curling into my triceps now. “I crave you. I f**king need you. You accused me of keeping my distance from you after the accident, said I would have spent more time with you if I’d really wanted to be with you. The truth is that, after the night in the steam room, I didn’t trust myself. I knew you’d let me take you. You would have let me that night. I didn’t trust myself to keep touching you without f**king you.”

She whimpers. “You could have.”

“Exactly. I dream about f**king you. Your legs wrapped around me while I slide into you or biting this sensitive spot on your neck while I f**k you from behind.” I nip to show her where, and she rocks her h*ps into my touch. “You’re looking for someone who loves your body as much as your mind? I’m your man, Hanna. Just give me a chance to show you.”

When I pull back, her eyes are half closed, her lips parted. “Show me,” she whispers.

I shouldn’t. Not when things are so confused and complicated between us. Not when she’s so emotional and vulnerable.

“It’s okay.” She brings her hand to my cheek. “I need this. I need you. More than ever.”

I kiss her then, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her breasts. When I stop and draw a nipple into my mouth, she cries out and buries her hands in my hair, holding me there. My c**k is so damn hard it aches, but I lower to my knees and press my mouth between her legs. She gasps as my tongue hits her clit. Widening her stance instinctively, she keeps those hands in my hair as I lick her, taste her, find her with my hand, and pump my fingers inside her. She tightens her hand in my hair, and I wrap my lips around her cl*tand suck.

There is nothing as sexy as fingering Hanna while she rocks her h*ps against my face. She tugs at my hair, and I know she’s close. I slide a second finger inside her while I add suction to her clit. She screams and bucks, and it’s the f**king sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

When I stand, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me hard. I move us to the bed and pause when I’m hovering over her. “I didn’t bring a condom.” I didn’t expect tonight to end like this. “I’m clean, but if you want…”

She shakes her head. “I’ve never had sex without a condom. I want you to be that first.”

My chest is tight, and I swallow hard as I slowly slide into her. She’s so tight and slick, and I don’t know how I’m going to last, but she arches against me and moans, and I know I’ll find a way to make this last—to make sure she comes again while I’m inside her.

I watch her as I move, and she holds my face in her hands. When tears trickle out of the corner of her eyes, I kiss them away, and she smiles at me.

“They’re happy tears,” she promises. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I murmur.

Her eyes float shut, and I can feel her tightening around me. I kiss her as she comes. Kiss her as I sink deep and pray to God that this is real and not some amazing dream.

49. Hanna

LIZZY ADJUSTS the diamond pendant on my necklace and sniffs back tears. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” This is really it. My wedding day. The first day of the rest of my life with Maximilian Hallowell.

Liz sniffs again and wipes away tears. “He’d better know how lucky he is.”

“He knows,” calls a deep voice.

We both gasp and turn toward the back exit to the area above the gallery, toward the sound of Max’s voice, deep and sure as he walks in the door.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I object, but the words don’t hold much conviction because, truth be told, I need to see him. I need to see the confidence in his eyes when he talks about our future. My stomach is a mess of butterflies and rattlesnakes and I’m not sure which will win.

He draws in a long breath as he looks me over. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Lizzy says. She presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers so only I can hear, “You deserve this.”

I have to look at the ceiling and breathe long and slow. I just did my makeup. I don’t want to have mascara streaming down my face when I walk down the aisle.

Lizzy closes the door behind her as she leaves, and Max and I just stare at each other for long seconds before he steps closer and takes my hand.

“Are you ready?”

I nod, and when he presses his lips to mine, I return the kiss. Something in the back of my mind tells me that I’m a liar, but I ignore it because Max’s lips are on mine, taking little sips from my mouth until the tension starts draining from me.

The door opens again, and Liz slides in. “It’s time.”

“I’ll see you downstairs,” Max says.

I watch him leave, even though I want him to stay. I want him to hold my hand and walk me down the aisle. I want him to get me to the spot I know I need to go. Because Max is going to take care of me, love me. But can I really marry a man, even a man I love more than myself, when I’m only in possession of half of my heart?

The music starts playing downstairs, and Liz grins at me. “That’s my cue.”

She leaves me to begin her descent down the stairs into the gallery, and I back against the wall and remind myself to breathe.

The music changes to the bridal march, and I right myself and take a step forward, but someone grabs my wrist and tugs me back. Turning, I gasp at the sight of Nate’s dark brown eyes connecting with mine.

I try to breathe, but I can’t. I try again, but something’s weighing down on my ribcage.

Nate flicks his gaze over me, and I realize I’m na**d in my bed with Max’s arm wrapped around me. Nate climbs into bed on the other side of me. He lies on his side, not touching me with anything but his eyes. I slide Max’s arm off me and reach for Nate, and he disappears.

My eyes open to darkness, loneliness, and guilt. Max is sleeping next to me, na**d and beautiful, his hand reaching for me in his sleep. My heart is hammering and I feel like I’ve just run up three flights of stairs. Breathe, I remind myself. Just breathe.

I want to fold myself into his arms and let him soothe the anxiety away, but the dream has left me feeling too guilty to take the comfort of his arms.

I climb out of bed and lock myself in the bathroom before I start crying.

50. Max

I DON’T open my eyes until I hear the bathroom door close. Rolling to my back, I thread my fingers through my hair and press my palms against my eyes.

She whispered his name in her sleep. One word. One syllable. Nate.

My chest is torn by conflicting emotions. Jealousy—because we made love last night and then she dreamed about another man. Heartache—because she’s hurt and grieving, and I’d do anything in my power to make it better. If I could, I’d deliver Nate to her door alive and well just to erase the pain from her eyes.