Her brows furrowed together, her nose scrunching up slightly from the motion. “You wantmeto take a bath?”
Another nod.
“But you need help. There’s so much to clean up.”
I pulled her to me and dipped my mouth to hers, kissing her long and slow. My fingers played with the hem of her royal blue crop top, earning a little shiver from her as they scraped against her torso.
“Maverick…” she whispered, breaking the kiss as her head fell back, a silent plea for me to kiss her neck. She did that a lot. Hell, she could keep doing it, I didn’t mind one bit.
The sound of my name on her lips just about shattered any resolve I had. It was husky, smokey, seductive. She could say it a thousand times and I’d never tire of it.
I grabbed her shirt and pulled it off her, revealing her white lace bra beneath. Kissing her once more, I nodded toward the tub. A silent request to get in.
One of her manicured brows rose even as a skeptical scowl formed on her lips. With a defeated sigh, she shimmied out of her denim shorts.
God, she was beautiful. Intoxicating. All tan skin and curves… And I wanted all of her. Every inch of her.Butwhen I had words. When I could tell her just how much I wanted her. JusthowI wanted her. I couldn’t even count all the ways at this point.
Right now, I just didn’t have the words in me. They would come. I could feel it. I just needed a little more time.
“You sure I can’t help you?” she asked, settling into the rising water. “Or at least convince you to join me?”
I gave my head a single, firm shake before kissing her once and leaving her. If I lingered any longer, Iwouldbe joining her.
I wasn’t ready to give her all of me, but I still have plenty to offer her. Plenty to keep her happy and satisfied with. But she didn’t need that right now. She needed to relax and unwind. And I needed to clean.
Music drifted through thespeakers that ran through the Google Home not long later. Cheyenne’s doing, no doubt. Some newer country bullshit because she knew I hated it and couldn’t do anything about it. Not when I had to talk to the speaker to control it.
So, this is my punishment for leavin’ her.My lips pulled up into a grin as I washed dishes.
I tuned out most of the songs while I cleaned up, though I hated to admit it, some weren't half bad. By the time I walked back into the room twenty minutes later, she stood in the bathroom wrapped in a soft, fluffy black towel, brushing her hair out as she sang along to the radio, using her brush as a microphone as she sang for Brandy at her side.
She was completely oblivious to me, so I just watched her. It was probably—no, definitely indecent of me, but I couldn’t help it. She was so wild, free, full of life. And to think of what she’d gone through as a kid. For as shitty as my father was, he hadn’t left. Hadn’t given up on us completely, though, you could argue it would have been better if he did. But her mom just left. Left a poor, innocent child.
And unlike me, who’d withdrawn and retreated within myself, she’d embraced it, moved on from the trauma, and didn’t let it affect her. She ate the cake, took back control. I wished I could be like that.
Unable to resist the magnetic pull of her any longer, I strode for the bathroom and pulled her into my arms. Her turquoise gaze settled on me as she whirled around, her cheeks blushing even as she continued to sing the last few lines of the song. I found myself swaying softly to the beat.
I don’t think I’d ever like dancing, but I’d dance for her.
As it ended, a satisfied smirk tugged on her lips. “See, I told you you’d like Zach Bryan.”
I shrugged. Fine. I liked him, but I liked the song more because she was singing it. Her smile widened, and she reached up on tiptoe to kiss me. Lightness filled me and, one by one, I felt the muscles in my body relax. She had a soothing touch. It was like a balm to my worries.
I cupped her face in my hands, pressing my forehead to hers. I hadn’t told her just how grateful I was for her, but I hope she felt it. I hope she saw it in my eyes, and felt it in every touch, kiss, embrace.
“Thank you for forcin’ me to take a bath,” she said softly. “It was relaxin’.”
I nodded, giving her an I-told-you look.
She smirked and rolled her eyes, her fingers playing at the pearl buttons of my shirt.
“So y’all do dinner every night?” There was a layer of guilt tangled in with the curiosity in her tone.
I shrugged. Usually. But there were some days when it was just me. Or just the boys and I. Or Charlie. I think they all felt like Cheyenne and I—well, let’s be honest, I—needed the company after the fire.
“Is it worse because of what happened?” she asked, all but reading my mind.
Another shrug and a curt nod.
