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“What’s your real name?”
“Nuh uh. My turn.”
She scowled, and instead of looking fierce, her twisted mouth looked straight up kissable. “Go ahead.” It sounded so resigned he wanted to laugh.
Mav leaned back on his elbows. There were a few key things he wanted to know about her but didn’t want to scare her off with overly personal questions at first. “How much weight have you lost since I last saw you?”
“Eight pounds. What’s your real name?”
Maverick burst out laughing. “No discussion, huh? Just jumping right to the next question? Okay, Ethan Davis. Why’s your old man in prison?”
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then lifted the glass to her lips.
“Use it wisely. Start sucking that back this early in the game and you’ll be wasted before you know it.” As a troubled frown crossed her face, Mav felt a tad guilty for pressuring her into answering questions she’d already said she didn’t talk about, but he had this drive, this need to uncover everything about her.
A heavy sigh left her, and she lowered the shot glass.
Victory.
“As I mentioned, my dad was a cop, high-ranking, a police commissioner, actually. The day after I graduated from—” She cleared her throat. “After I graduated, he was arrested for taking bribe money from the mob. He’s serving a twelve-year sentence in Pennsylvania. It’s halfway over.”
“Shit, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” Growing up with a cop father explained some of why she’d been so staunch in her opinion of right versus wrong. Her father must have set the bar high as far as always being just and staying on the right side of the law. Probably a hard-liner when it came to following the rules, then he shattered her world and destroyed her safety net by going against everything he’d taught her.
A fucking dirty cop.
She did have secrets. Probably a lot more respect for law enforcement than he did. Maybe that was why he’d had the nagging feeling she was hiding something. Had to be hard to admit to outlaw bikers that you came from blue stock.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion. “So, uh, how many women have you slept with?”
He watched her for a second, not surprised by her attempt at putting some levity back into the game. He’d give it to her for now, but she wasn't off the hook when it came to the tough shit. Not when he was finally figuring out what made her tick. “One.”
The smile that lit her face made him feel like a fucking hero. “Okay, that’s the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
He shrugged. “It’s true. I have only ever slept with one woman.”
Eyes wide, she huffed. “Okay, I'll play your game. Was it that Carli girl?”
She said girl like the word tasted horrible in her mouth. “That’s another question, but I’ll give it to you. No, not Carli. The only woman I have ever slept with was you.”
“Me? But we…ohh, okay. I see what you did there. Very smooth.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. You are the only woman I’ve slept the night with.”
Her entire posture softened. “Wow,” she whispered. “Uh, okay, well how many women have you had sexual relations with?”
Now it was his turn to smile. “Sexual relations?”
“I’m covering all my bases since you seem to be a master at skirting the real question.”
“Sorry, sweets, that’s another question.”
She huffed. “Oh, come on. You know that’s what I meant all along.”
Playing with Stephanie was fun and exactly what he needed to take his mind off the shit with Lefty. “Okay, fine, but no more cheating.”
She made an X over her heart with her pointer finger.
“Well, I may not be the smartest fucker out there, but I’m sure as hell not stupid enough to answer that question.” Like he even had a clue how many women he’d fucked. He lifted the shot glass to his lips and downed the whiskey. Ahh, damn good burn.
They went back and forth for a while, laughing, drinking, and learning little tidbits of info about each other. With each reveal, Mav found himself craving more of Stephanie. More of her mind, more of her history, and fuck if he didn’t want her body. It was a dangerous game. He wasn’t built for engaging in anything serious and wouldn’t offer it to her, but he couldn’t tear himself away from her.
“Okay,” he said, refilling her glass after she wouldn’t tell him the most orgasms she’d had in one night. In her tipsy state, she’d giggled, spilled about a third of the shot on his sheets, and downed the rest. It was no big deal; he planned to have first-hand knowledge when he blew that number out of the water at some point. “Why are you here? No bullshit, no excuses, no lies. Why did you come back to Tennessee?”
Fishing? Sure. He wanted to know if she’d returned because she thought of him as much as she’d been on his mind over the past two months.
