Satisfaction spurred her. Oh, yeah. Instincts definitely ruled.
She hooked a leg around his hip, bringing them both closer. The heat of him throbbed against the cradle of her stomach, ready. She refused to let fears or insecurities tense her. She wanted this, everything. Now. Instinct would guide her on what to do next.
Darcy shut down her brain, closed her eyes and readied to fly straight into the mist.
Max gritted his teeth, trying like hell not to fly out of control, instead to press gradually, carefully into the satin grip drawing him deeper. Darcy's Norplant allowed him to enter her without anything between them. He could feel every square inch of her. Deeper until he met resistance.
He steadied his breathing. Willed himself to go easy. Take it slow for her. A damned tough proposition with Darcy arching against him with a needy sigh, bringing herself down—
She winced. He tucked her close and stilled, water, steam and silken woman against him, around him while he waited, chest pumping a ragged pace under the strain of holding back. But he would, damn it. For her.
And then she moved.
Man, did she ever move. Darcy hitched her leg higher, rocked against him with a natural rhythmic grace that threatened to send him hurtling over the edge.
Not yet.
He guided her against him, slower. Her other leg swung up and around his waist with the athletic fluidity that marked her every move.
Forget restraint. He secured her against the wall. Damned grateful for the support himself, as he thrust and lost himself in this woman. Knew he didn't ever want to walk away. Swore he would find some way to make this last as long as he could, as if that might somehow lengthen their time together before real life crashed down on them.
His eyes absorbed the vision of Darcy, surrounded by steam and him, water streaking down her face. A face so intense and focused on finding release even while prolonging it.
The need to finish twisted inside him, pounded through him in an urge to finally and completely claim her as his. Her breathing hitched, her full br**sts pressing against his chest faster with each deeper breath until—
Her cry cut through him, cut through his restraints. The strength of her release gripped him, sent him hurtling into completion right after her.
Water beaded down her head. Their bodies too close to let even a drop slide between, Max held Darcy backed against the shower wall while aftershocks ripped through them both.
This competent, incredible woman needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She needed him. And for the first time in his loner life, Max understood what it meant to need someone, too. Totally.
And what it would mean to lose her.
She'd lost it. Totally lost it.
Darcy curled against Max's side in her bed and wondered where her will to fight had gone. She wanted to hide in this room and make love to Max until they both couldn't walk.
Of course, she wasn't sure she could manage more than a few steps at the moment after her bone-melting release in the shower. Max had carried her back to bed, so she still hadn't tested her legs yet and couldn't see herself rolling out of his arms. Not yet.
Too bad real-world worries and concerns didn't respect closed-door boundaries. She couldn't stop herself from asking, "What was she like?''
"Eva?" His eyes closed, he didn't even pretend to misunderstand as he stroked roughened fingers along her stomach. "Emotional."
Jealousy sucked. An overachiever all her life, Darcy couldn't swallow down the thought of coming in second. She needed to know the competition, the stakes suddenly too high. "I was looking for a little more from you than that, Max."
The backs of his fingers continued their lazy dance across her waist. "We never could figure out how we ended up together, both so damned different. But we spent so much time together working ops—"
"Working together?"
"She was CIA. I guess I never told you."
Shock pinched right along with the increasing sting of jealousy over a woman who'd shared so much more of Max than she ever would. "Nope, that wouldn't have come up in the past few weeks."
Since she'd barely known him then, either.
"Eva wanted out." Max's low voice rumbled in the cinder-block room. "Even before the baby, she'd been thinking about leaving the Agency."
His muscles contracted across his chest. She rested a palm against them until they relaxed under her touch, then traced up to explore the scar on his shoulder. "How did you feel about that?"