To my surprise, when we walk out of the apartment and enter the elevator, Maverick doesn’t push the button for the lobby. Rather, he presses the one for the very top floor. But when I look at him, his face is unreadable.
We exit the elevator into a hallway much like the one on Maverick’s floor. I let him guide me to the end where he opens a door that leads to a stairwell. My confusion is replaced by absolute wonder when he holds open the door at the top of the stairs and I step out onto the rooftop.
“Oh my goodness,” I murmur, hardly knowing where to look first. Candles are flickering all around me. There must be hundreds of them: tall pillars and shorter votives in glass holders. Maverick laces his hand with mine and draws me forward, along a path through the candles to the center of the space. There’s what looks to be a set of outdoor furniture, a low table and small two-seater couch. And on the table is a silver bucket with a bottle chilling on ice, two glasses, and two covered plates.
I sit down, my gaze still darting all around. There’s small lights strung up around the perimeter, adding to the candlelight, so the entire space is bathed in soft, warm light. From up here, the sounds of the city are muffled, and when Maverick clicks on something behind me, the gentle radiating warmth of the outdoor heater adds to the feeling of being in our own little world, away from everyone and everything else.
“This is incredible.” I take his hand when he finally sits next to me and lean over to kiss him. “Thank you.”
He gives me a bashful smile before pouring two glasses of wine. Handing me one, he lifts his to me in a cheer. “To us.”
The simple toast has me fighting back tears. His transformation from a reclusive, misunderstood man into a romantic one is so dramatic it still takes me aback.
I sip my wine to save me from saying anything and to buy some time to control my emotions. For all that he’s put into this amazing night, I somehow know he’s not ready for me to say the words of how I feel about him.
When I lower my wine glass back to the table, I’m more composed. Until, that is, he lifts the cover off the plates in front of us. Then I can’t contain my delighted laugh.
“How did you know?” I ask, already lifting my fork, eager to dig into the somehow still-steaming hot dish of what appears to be my absolute favourite meal.
“Willow asked your friend Ali.” He looks at me with such satisfaction and pride as I lift a forkful of gooey macaroni and cheese to my lips. “It’s from a local place that does southern cooking. Darling told me it was good.”
I let out an embarrassing moan when the flavours explode on my tongue. “Oh my God, it’ssogood.” I take another bite, and another, before looking over to him, realizing he hasn’t touched his food. “Okay, you need to eat, too, or this is going to get awkward really fast.”
Instead of answering, Maverick leans over and kisses me. Then his tongue darts out and licks the corner of my mouth. “You had a little sauce…” He sits back and smirks. “But you’re right. It is good.”
He picks up his fork and starts to eat, staring at me with such heated intensity I don’t know if it’s the patio heater or him making me feel like I’m about to combust. I turn my attention to my food, trying to distract myself from the desire building inside of me. Then his hand lands on my thigh, stilling me with slow strokes of his thumb. He’s no longer staring at me, now seemingly focused on his own meal. But his thumb is inching higher and higher until my food is forgotten as I try not to pant and gasp, not to shift and squirm to get his touch where I want it the most.
He brushes across my damp panties and my teeth sink into my lip.
“How’s your food, Specs?” His smirk tells me he knows exactly where my focus is right now.
“Maverick,” I whisper as his thumb slips under the edge of my panties.
All I hear is the clatter of a fork hitting the ground, and then he’s on his knees in front of me, shoving up the hem of my dress and spreading my legs.
“Fuck, Sadie. I thought I could do it. I thought I could give you this perfect night, woo you, be all romantic and shit. But I can’t keep my hands off you. I need you.Now.”
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything before dipping his head down and kissing me right over the top of my panties. My hips lift off the couch to meet him, and he uses that second to pull the scrap of lace down, tossing them over his shoulder, thankfully missing the hundreds of still-burning candles.
His gaze returns to mine. And I lean forward, dragging my fingers through his curls.
“You have me.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Sadie
I woke up this morning to Maverick’s head between my legs, stirring me from dirty dreams to an even better reality. He didn’t let me out of bed until I had screamed his name.
Having already made the decision to go into the hospital to work from my office today, I had to fend him off the entire time I was trying to get ready and eat breakfast. For a man who claims to not know how to be in a relationship, he certainly is beating out any and all of my past boyfriends.
I’ve been at work for several hours now, and to my immense relief, aside from a few curious looks, no one has said anything about my absence. Or my relationship. I’ve managed to stay on top of things from Maverick’s apartment, so the workday flies by, and before I know it, I’m driving home.
Home.
When did his apartment start to feel like home?
I’m still musing over that when I let myself in, bending down to scratch Cat behind the ears, then toeing off my shoes. I take a quick shower, wrap myself up in a towel, and wander into the bedroom. Traces of the two of us are everywhere, intermingled.My necklace sits beside his watch in a dish on the dresser. My clothes hang next to his. Glasses of water sit on each table on both sides of the bed.
