Nine
He’d done the right thing, Maxim told himself. Their lovemaking would have no meaning if she was merely pretending again, and he wanted her too badly for a meaningless encounter. But that didn’t stop the disappointment that rolled through him when she moved off him.
It’s better this way. Why, he couldn’t say from one second to the next, not with her rear pressed into his lap, which seemed to interfere with his thinking. But he tried to believe he’d made the ethical choice. The night would pass. They’d get home. And then he’d be glad he exercised some restraint.
Meanwhile the minutes dragged by like hours and he couldn’t relax, couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying those few moments after she’d asked him to hold her. She’d been so eager to touch him, so eager for him to touch her. She’d even climbed on top of him! Why had he forced her to reconsider?
Because he was trying to be fair. Because he’d wanted her to offer herself without any coaxing...
Closing his eyes, he struggled to shut out the appealing scent of her hair, but it filled his nostrils every time he drew a breath. Had she gone to sleep? He was pretty sure she had. She hadn’t moved in a long time, ever since she’d turned her back to him.
Confident that she wouldn’t know the difference, he allowed himself to curve more fully around her. He wanted to touch her breast but didn’t go that far. He merely kissed her bare shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but he wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. For being unable to accept less than everything she had to give? For knowing that the man she loved with such devotion was a liar? For his outspoken criticism of Mark, which had put her on that plane in the first place?
Maybe he was apologizing for it all.
* * *
Pale tendrils of light threaded their way through the windows of the Cessna’s carcass. It was morning. It had been for some time, but Adelaide remained still. She didn’t want to wake Maxim. She preferred to luxuriate in the secure feeling of his arm anchoring her to him and the memory of him kissing her shoulder last night.
I’m sorry. Why had he felt the need to apologize? He hadn’t done anything more to her than she’d done to him. They’d both been slinging insults over the past several months. Besides, the race didn’t seem to matter anymore.
So what had motivated those softly uttered words? They were so...uncharacteristic of him. He was tough, demanding, uncaring, ambitious—wasn’t he?
Definitely. But if that was all he was, why would he care whether or not she pretended he was someone else? Was it pride?
She’d chosen to think so, until his apology had made her reevaluate. She hadn’t been able to categorize it under any of the bad qualities she’d assigned to him. She was convinced he wouldn’t have said what he had if he’d realized she was awake.
So who was Maxim Donahue? Was he really as bad as she believed him to be?
Moving carefully, she maneuvered herself to face him. He didn’t wake; he just stirred, then drew her against him as if they were regular and familiar lovers.
She laid her ear on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, praying that the steady rhythm would soon be drowned out by the rotary blades of a rescue copter. But she was afraid rescuers wouldn’t be able to spot them. Judging by the obscure quality of the light, the latest snowfall had nearly buried the plane. Was the emergency transmitter working? Was the storm over?
It was crucial that they get up and do everything possible to make their position more visible. But if rescuers arrived today, these might be the last few minutes she’d ever spend in such intimacy with Maxim Donahue.
She didn’t want to trade them away too soon...
“You okay?” he asked.
Apparently, her movement had awakened him, after all.
She tilted her head back to see his face. The shadow on his cheeks had darkened with another day’s beard, making him look less like the man she’d spent the past months disliking and more like the man she was coming to know in a whole new way. “We made it through another night,” she said.
“I told you we would. How’s your leg?”
It’d been sore since she injured it, but preparing the wrecked plane as a shelter hadn’t required much effort from her. Although she was fine for now, she was pretty sure her injury would complain more loudly when they got out and starting digging. “I’ll live. Well, maybe,” she added with a laugh. “How’d you sleep?”
“I’ve had more restful nights. You ready to get up?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she held his face between her hands and stared into his eyes as she ran a thumb over his lips. “Did you mean it?” she breathed.
A certain wariness entered his expression. “Mean what?”
“That I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on?”
He said nothing.
“Or was that part of the act?”
He looked away. “What does it matter?”
“It matters.”
When his gaze returned to hers, she no longer needed verbal confirmation. She could see it in his eyes. The always-in-control, forever-aloof Maxim Donahue had lifted the mask he normally wore to let her see the passion that simmered behind his cool exterior. And that sent an intoxicating flood of warmth and desire flowing through her.
Moving slowly, so he could stop her if he wanted, she pressed her lips to his.
They were warm and dry at first, but then they parted and his tongue met hers.
Someone moaned. She was almost positive it was her. But he moaned, too, the moment his hands found her breasts. He pulled off her bra so he could caress her, and she closed her eyes as his mouth left hers to trail small kisses down her throat.
* * *
Maxim couldn’t hear for the pounding of his heart. Until the crash, he hadn’t been with a woman since Chloe—and their lovemaking had lost its luster years before she was diagnosed. He felt younger than he’d felt in a very long time, more excited than he could ever remember. Somehow, nothing seemed to matter except being with Adelaide.
“You feel...amazing,” he murmured.
She was breathing too hard to answer; the rapid rise and fall of her chest told him that. But she wasn’t unresponsive. Her hands clutched his hair, guiding his mouth to her breast, and he groaned again when he realized she tasted as good as she felt.
He shoved her panties to her knees so he could eventually move lower. But he wasn’t quite ready for that. Lightly pinning her down, he explored more leisurely what he’d rushed through the night before.
“What is it you want?” he whispered when she began to writhe against him, gasping. “Tell me, Adelaide, and I’ll give it to you.”
“You know...what I want.”
He was hoping to hear his name. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.” He held his hand still, as if he’d make good on the threat, and she took his mouth in a fierce kiss.
“I want you, okay? I want you,” she said against his lips.
“Now?” he teased.
She gulped for breath. “Now!”
Somehow, in the tightness of that sleeping bag, he managed to get rid of his boxers. He had no idea when or where they went. The same was true of her panties. Then he and Adelaide were touching and tasting each other in a frenzy like he’d never experienced.
The next few minutes didn’t last as long as he would’ve liked. They were too desperate for each other. But never in his life had he enjoyed five minutes more.
Adelaide didn’t say what he’d been longing to hear, not even when he had her trembling on the brink of climax—but it wasn’t much later that they heard the helicopter.
* * *
Adelaide sat in the backseat of the chopper across from Maxim. She had a blanket wrapped around her and was staring out the window at the swirling snow. The pilot and his partner had said they’d found them just when they were about to turn back. Apparently, the ELT had gone off but had stopped working after only a few minutes, and the severity of the storm system hadn’t allowed them to search more than three hours yesterday, two this morning. If the Cessna hadn’t fallen into such a wide crevice, the helicopter wouldn’t have had room to land or time to wait for them to climb down into the clearing. The rescuers hadn’t even been able to recover Cox. It was too risky to go after him until the current storm had passed.
That news hadn’t made Adelaide happy. She’d argued that they should take Cox to his family right now. But once it started to snow, she seemed to realize the helicopter pilot was right and let the subject go. The truth was, they were damn lucky—lucky to be alive, lucky to have gotten out when they did, lucky to be home in time for Christmas.
Maxim hoped his girls hadn’t assumed the worst. He hated the thought of what they must have suffered, believing he was dead. They’d already lost their mother.
The wind tossed the helicopter like a cheap toy. Feeling airsick, Maxim glanced over to see how Adelaide was coping with the bumpy flight and noticed how tightly she clasped her hands in her lap. She didn’t speak, didn’t complain, but she was clearly nervous. After what they’d been through, he didn’t blame her. He was anxious, too.
Briefly, he considered trying to comfort her by squeezing her arm but refrained. She wouldn’t even look at him. Now that they’d been rescued, neither of them knew what to think of the time they’d spent together—or the physical intimacy between them. The fact that they hadn’t used birth control seemed far more important now than it had before, however. Was Adelaide carrying his baby? Was she worried that she might be? What would they do if she was?
Closing his eyes to shut out the blinding white of the snow, which made him dizzy, he told himself there was no use worrying until he knew for sure, and tried to put it out of his mind.
“We’ll be down in ten minutes,” the pilot announced, speaking through the earphones he’d given each of them.
“Sounds good to me,” Maxim responded and the guy in the passenger seat sent him a thumbs-up.
Adelaide didn’t comment. But she thanked the pilot once they landed. She shook Maxim’s hand and politely thanked him, too—as if they were still professional acquaintances. Then a paramedic helped her across the tarmac to an ambulance.
There was a second ambulance waiting for Maxim. Although he would’ve preferred to ride along with Adelaide, it made sense for him to have his own transportation. As opponents, they shouldn’t share an ambulance or anything else.
They should never have been on that plane together.
But, except for what had happened to the pilot, Maxim couldn’t bring himself to regret it.