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I stare at him, in shock. In shock that this is how he remembers our meeting. In shock at the feeling of his warm hands on my bare skin. In shock because I’m sure we passed tons of girls over the course of tonight who were more attractive than me, and here he is saying he’d take me over all of them?
Finally, Maverick raises his chin and breaks the silence. “Azalea.”
“Hmm?” It’s all I can manage with his fierce eyes boring into mine like that.
He lifts one of his hands to my face. With his thumb, he gently strokes along the side of my jaw. I can feel the hair at the back of my neck getting damp with sweat. “Tell me it’s not just me,” he murmurs.
I bite my lip, and he moves his thumb over to gently drag it out from beneath my teeth. “No,” I admit. “No, it’s not just you.”
He shifts so that he is sitting crisscross on the ground in front of me. When he reaches up to circle my wrists with his fingers, I don’t resist; when he pulls me into his lap, I go willingly, positioning my knees on either side of him. He clutches me at the waist as I drape my arms over his shoulders. In the background, SportsCenter is still on.
“Maverick,” I whisper, my heart pounding so hard I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest.
He lifts his half-lidded eyes to look at me. “What?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Maverick moves his face closer to mine. We pause, our lips a breath apart, for another second or two. And then finally—finally—we meet in the middle.
Maverick’s mouth is hot, like his palms through my thin t-shirt. The kiss is hesitant, slow, weighed down by the drag of implication. Even as I close my eyes and thread my fingers in his hair, I can’t completely lose myself in the kiss. I know that we’ve just crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
Maverick parts his lips, nudges mine with his tongue, and that’s the wake-up call I need to pull back. I drag my hands down to curl around the back of his neck. He stares at me, his eyes a little wild. “What?” he asks breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t do this, Maverick,” I say, even as my heart and my hormones and the ache between my legs scream in unison,Yes you can!“We’re not… this isn’t us.”
He places his hands on the outside of my thighs. I want them to stay there. No, actually—I want them to move higher. Inward. “It could be.”
Against my own will, I brace my hands on his shoulders and push myself to my feet. I cross my arms tightly over my chest, surprised at how chilled I feel after losing his body heat. “We can’t do this,” I repeat.
He stands up, too. I notice the tent in his shorts and quickly avert my eyes. “You just said you feel the same.”
“I do,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. I mean, you’re—” I stop, swallowing. I don’t want to hurt his feelings or make him think I don’t trust him, but he’s in no position to be making emotionally charged decisions right now.
Maverick seems to know exactly what I’m thinking. He runs a hand through his mussed hair and takes a couple of steps closer to me. “You think I’m too fucked up,” he says, not accusatory, just matter of fact. And while I would have used different terminology, I go ahead and tilt my head in agreement. “And I mean, I am. But not about this.” He steps up to me, standing so we are toe-to-toe. I start to shrink back, trying to put some distance between us, but he gently grabs me by the elbows. “I know what I want, Azalea.”
“Maverick…” I take a deep breath, buying time to formulate my response. “I’m glad I could be here for you during all of this. And I will continue to be here for you. You’re my best friend, and you’re so important to me. But…” I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to put it most delicately. “You’re hurting. Understandably. And I’m a safe person for you, and you’re… you’re trying to cope. This isn’t the way, though.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “No. No, that’s not it at all. Zale, this isn’t new. I’ve felt it for such a long time.” He places his hands on either side of my face, cupping gently but firmly and forcing me to look at him. His gaze bores into mine, and what I see there makes me inclined to believe him.
I want to be the practical one. I want to be the one with her head on straight. But right now, with his soft touch and clear blue eyes, I’m finding it exceedingly difficult.
“I don’t know when it changed for me,” I murmur. “Somewhere along the way, it just did.”
Our foreheads fall together. I can hear myself breathing loudly, even though I’m standing still.
Maverick moves his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’m going to kiss you again, okay?” he whispers.
Tell him no. Pull away. Go downstairs and demand your own room.
“Okay,” I whisper back, and then I kiss him first.
Chapter Sixteen
Maverick
Inmydreams,kissingAzalea was pretty fucking great.
Kissing her in real life is a hundred times better.
