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“I can’t do that,” I croak, struggling to breathe with him so close. He overwhelms each of my senses. The alcohol on his breath tickles my nose. His thumbs rub circles on my wrist, though I don’t even think he realizes. And his eyes lock on mine, shrinking the room until the only thing I can see is him.
“Why did you do it, Bumblebee?”
Shaking my head, I force myself to breathe, closing my eyes for a moment. “If that’s what you’re here for, you can leave. I’m not doing this, not today.”
“Don’t you think you owe me at least that? I gave up everything for you that day.”
“I never asked you to.” I sigh, pulling myself free and pushing back to my feet. Heading to the door, I pull it open. He follows me, but instead of leaving like I expect, he lays his hand over mine where it rests on the frame, pushing until the door closes once again.
He doesn’t give me the chance to escape him, crowding into me until my back hits the wood, his arms caging me on either side of my head. With most people, the act would send me spiraling, but never with him.
“You didn’t have to ask, don’t you get that? You were everything, so making the choice I did was the easiest fucking thing in the world. I could never have walked away from you. But youdidwalk away from me. When I needed you the most, you turned your back on me and left me to deal with the consequences on my own.”
“Mav, I.” I pause, knowing he’s right. “I’m sorry.”
“Is that good enough?”
“I don’t know.” I press my hands to his chest. His heart beats erratically under my touch, his muscles rippling as his body tenses beneath me. He’s so warm, so familiar, that my heart races with the contact. “But maybe it’s a start?”
He doesn’t say anything, not as I run my palms down his shirt before curling them around his back, and not when I lean in, applying gentle pressure as I breathe him in.
He smells of vanilla and alcohol. He’s all hard lines and muscles, but he feels so good too. He shudders out a breath, and a long awkward moment passes in which I debate what I’m even doing.
Finally, I move to pull away, but something snaps inside of him and his arms fold around my back, crushing me to his chest. I can’t breathe as my nose smashes against his hard pecs, but there isn’t a thing in the world that could pull me away from him at this moment.
This isn’t a hug from an old friend, or a moment of emotional weakness with the guy I had my first crush on.
It’s home . . . Maverick Brady is home.
Chapter Sixteen
Maverick
Blindinglightassaultsmyeyes the moment I crack them open, my head throbbing.Fuck. Why did I drink so much last night?
I roll over, reaching for the remote that draws my blinds closed but come up empty. My hand slaps through the air, where my nightstand should be. With a jolt, I shoot upright, my vision blurring.
It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, then another for them to focus on the unfamiliar walls and bedding covering my legs.What the fuck?
I rack my brain trying to piece together the night before, but my mind goes blank. The last thing I remember is doing shots with Nash at Marcus’s, too many shots. All in a bid to rid the rush of emotions I’d been feeling all day.
The moment Beatrice froze in the car, the last of my rage shattered, leaving confusion and hurt in its place. I followed her around Disney like a lost fucking puppy, unable to step away for even a moment in fear she’d lose herself again to whatever had come over her as we pulled up. Then she went back to campus, and I tried and failed to engage with my friends and enjoy the day.
Then we were at Marcus’s, drinking more than enough to wash away every emotion.
But then what?
Nothing comes to me. My brain is a black hole after we made it to his house.
A yawn leaves me, and I push myself from the strange bed, glancing down to see I’m only wearing a pair of Calvin’s. Dragging my eyes over the room, I find my clothes folded on top of a dresser, and my phone, wallet, and keys laying next to them.
I dress quickly, then shove my feet into my sneakers at the bottom of the bed before doing a final glance around the bedroom. Something niggles at my brain, a familiarity of sorts, but I can’t place what.
At least not until I step out of the room and freeze, my eyes locking on Beatrice. Her hair is loose, hanging down her back in light waves, and she wears only an old Iron Maiden tour tee and a pair of Nike socks that go to her calves.
She turns quickly, stealing my breath as she flashes me a blinding smile. Her face is bare of any makeup, but her eyes glitter under the lights, and her cheeks flush, which sends a shockwave straight to my dick.
“Morning,” she says, tilting her head toward a mug on the counter. “I wasn’t sure how you took it these days, so I just added creamer and sugar, but feel free to toss it out.” She shrugs, glancing down and looking at herself. “I, erm, I need to get dressed.”
