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I mean, sure, I’ve worn shorts and tank tops around him, but we’re going to a beach. It’s nice out, the weather is nice and hot. Perfect time for bikinis and such. It’s something I haven’t worn in a long time. Ryann, Peyton, and Fawn had all convinced me to buy one, but I haven’t worn it. The damn thing still has the tags on it.
There’s a lot of reasons I’ve not put it on, and it’s just been sitting in my drawer. It’s bad enough I have to see the scars left behind, but wearing a bikini would put those scars on display for others to see. They’d see my shame and question how I got them. They’d want to know why I’ve got the words whore forever marking my creamy skin.
Sure, I could hide it by wearing a one-piece, but still, what happens if I decide to remove the clothes for someone. It’s another reason I refuse to allow myself to think of being with anyone. Let alone Maverick.
“Nevaeh,” Maverick calls out from the other side of the door, getting my focus rather than my continuing to flip out.
“It’s unlocked,” I yell, not wanting to get close to the door.
I watch as the doorknob turns and the door pushes open. Maverick leans against the frame, arms crossing over his now shirtless chest. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Really?” I ask, furrowing my brow. “I didn’t think we had anything to cook.”
“We didn’t.” He shrugs and grins. “That’s who was at the door. I sent a list to one of the prospects and had him bring food here,” he explains and straightens. “Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Shocked by this news, I stare at him feeling dumbfounded but also conflicted because flip-out mode wants to take over even more. I know this because, in the next instance, I blurt out, “I don’t know what to pack for the beach. I mean I have a bikini, but only because the girls talked me into getting it. It still has the tags because I told myself I’d never wear it.”
Maverick loses his grin, comes into my room, and closes the distance between the two of us. My breathing ragged, it nearly ceases when he grips my chin between two fingers and wraps an arm around my waist.
“Just pack what you want. Pack what you feel comfortable in. You don’t want to wear a bikini, then so fuckin’ be it. If you want a body suit, we’ll get you one. Want board shorts and a tee, then so what? You need to be you, Sweets. We’re going to the coast, you know it’s hot out, and I’ll tell you now, you would be a walking wet dream in a bikini.”
With that said he drops his fingers from my chin, reaches down and grabs my hand. “We’ll worry about packing later. Let’s eat, then I’ll help you get organized. All right?”
I nod, unable to speak. I mean, who can speak words after what he just said? He thinks I’d be a walking wet dream. A shudder rushes through me and I’m left conflicted because I want to feel that way for him, but I know what’s scarred into my body that he doesn’t know about. And that thought right there, puts me back in my place, and I figure I’ll just get a one-piece when we get down there instead of worrying about it.
Maverick guides me out of the room, Gizmo having stayed behind, snoozing on my bed. He takes me into the dining area, where two plates were set with steaks, baked potatoes, and zucchini slices with cheese sprinkled on them. It all looks delicious and smells even better.
“Time to eat,” he announces, holding out a chair for me. Talk about him being a gentleman. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him doing this for another woman. Then again, I don’t hear of him with women period. “But save room, ‘cause we’ve got dessert waiting for us, after which we’ll be eating while watching a movie on TV. Once we do that, then we’ll go back to packing your shit before we get on the road.”
Well, there you go. Can Maverick be any more perfect?
CHAPTERSIX
MAVERICK
Driving in the dead of night, I glance over to Nevaeh staring out the side window. Her kitten curled up in her lap with her stroking behind the cat’s damn ear.
Dinner and what should have been a movie, but ended up me watching some show she likes was a success in getting her to relax. We had dinner with small talk and during dessert it was on the couch with her show playing. I sat close to her, my arm on the back of the couch behind her. I wasn’t pushing it more than that.
Earlier, I’d made the decision and I’m sticking to it. There’s no way I’m letting her go. No fucking way. There’s no way I can even think of her not being mine because that’s exactly who she is to me,mine.
When she blurted out the fact, she had a bikini but never intended to wear it, my cock thickened instantly at the thought of her on the beach wearing so little. But as she blathered on, I knew something was wrong and that she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of it. I don’t want her to do anything that would upset her or make her feel insecure.
I want to think I gained a little bit of her trust or broke through some of her walls, though I can’t be certain. Since getting in the truck, she’s been quiet, staring out the window. I give her this time, sensing she needs it, but I wish we’d been on my bike rather than in the cab of the truck. At least then it would a better ride and not like it is now.
If not for the damn cat Jasper and Milo got for her. Still, I have to admit Gizmo is a damn cool cat.
A song comes on the radio and Nevaeh shocks the shit out of me by reaching over and turning up the volume before starting to sing along to it. Hearing her sing is like a gift. It’s beautiful the way that country twang of hers filters through. The sound also goes straight to my dick. It makes me wonder what she’d sound like with me inside her.
Damnit. It’s been forever since I got laid last. I could easily have taken care of the problem, but it didn’t feel right, so it’s just been me and my fucking hand which is getting old. There’s only so many times I can give myself a hand job to thoughts of Nevaeh and what it would be like to be inside her.
When the song comes to an end, I clear my throat. “You have a beautiful voice, Sweets.”
I’ve called her Sweets from almost day one of moving in with her and Ryann. Nevaeh’s got one hell of a sweet tooth and loves her chocolates. I continue calling her this even when she declared I needed to stop. I just laughed and said it wasn’t gonna happen. She’ll always be Sweets to me. No matter fucking what.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I love singing. I always have.”
The way she spoke those last three words has me curious about her past, though I not about to question her about it. Not now. Having found out that it was her birthday and that she’d been taken on said day so long ago, I understand her reason for keeping it quiet. Eventually I intend to help her work through it and find out the rest of the story, but for now, knowing that bit, it’s enough for now.
