I stop breathing.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek.
“You are not filling holes,bella. You’re making new places in me.”
“You can’t love me, Maverick,” I whisper. “You never even made it to first base, remember?”
“Hmm.” His face goes deep in thought. “You’re right.”
“Exactly,” I say softly.
I’m glad he understands.
At the same time, that hurt.
“Bella.”
“Yeah?” I answer, staring at the buttons on today’s dress shirt.
“Amelia.”
Sighing, I look up, knowing that’s what he wants.
“Yeah,” I repeat.
He smiles.
Then he lifts my chin a little higher and brings his mouth down on mine.
The kiss steals every thought from my head before I can form a single defense.
His hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head while his other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close.
My fingers curl into his shirt and the fabric wrinkles beneath my grip.
Maverick makes a low sound against my mouth, like that one small touch cost him more control than he expected.
Then the kiss changes.
It slows…deepens.
Turns from hunger into promise.
His lips move over mine like he has all the time in the world, like he plans to learn every breath I take and every little sound I try to hide. Heat rolls through me, slow and heavy, pooling in places I have no business thinking about while standing in a child’s borrowed bedroom.
My knees weaken, and his arm tightens around me, holding me steady while his thumb brushes along my jaw.
I forget the room.
The house.
The fire.
The grief waiting outside this moment.
There’s only his mouth.
His hands.
