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The memory of last night, of Maverick’s arms tight around me and that feeling of safety that overtook me as we drifted off to sleep together, pops into my head. And that’s what does it. “I love you,” I blurt out. “And I don’t know if you’re ready to be together, but—”
“I’m ready, Azalea.” His voice is firm.
I take a few steps forward, slowly closing the distance between us. The tendons and muscles in his arms flex as he curls his hands into fists at his side. “Please don’t do this with me unless you’re sure,” I tell him.Beghim, really. “I couldn’t stand it if I lost you now. I can’t have someone else telling me they don’t want me.”
I’m caught off guard when Maverick hauls me close. He turns us into the wall, pressing my back against it. Somebody bumps the light switch, and we’re plunged into darkness save for the light of the moon filtering through the window.
Maverick rests his forehead on mine. “I’ve always wanted you.”
“Not after this sum—”
“Always.” He slips a hand beneath my shirt, skating his palm over my bare stomach. “I woke up in the hospital, and I wanted you.” He drops a kiss on my nose. “They told me I was done with baseball, and I wanted you.” Another kiss, in the crook of my neck. “I was a complete ass to you, and even as you rightfully walked away from me, I still wanted you.” His mouth finds the dip of my collarbone, and he lingers there, his words falling against my skin. “I’ve wanted you all these years, and I still do, and I always will.”
Then, lifting his head so that his mouth ghosts over mine, he delivers the final crushing blow to whatever short-lived idea I had that we could go back to being just friends: “I can’t even remember what it’s like to not be completely fucking in love with you.”
And finally, for the first time since Chicago, he kisses me.
My fingers thread through his hair, grasping to keep him close, but he only stays a second before retreating. “I need you to be sure, too,” he husks. “I can’t lose you either.”
“I’m sure.” I nudge him back a bit so I can ease off the wall, and then I nudge him again, this time directing him toward the bed. “I’m so sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maverick
I’malloverAzalea.
Or she’s all over me.
I can’t really tell.
We’ve been making out for what feels like hours, barely speaking between sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Our shirts were flung away long ago. She’s reclined on my bed and I’m splayed on top of her, gently rocking my hips into hers as her heels dig into my back.
It may be the middle of the night, but I’m on high alert, aware of every touch, every movement, every little noise she makes. I’ve never had more energy coursing through my veins.
Egged on by her breathy sounds of satisfaction, I duck my head to nip lightly at the skin between her breasts. “This okay?”
“Yeah.” Her chest expands with the deep breath she takes, straining against her thin bra. I move my mouth over one of her nipples and suck it through the fabric.
“Mav,” Azalea gasps, her hand twisting in my hair.
I release her and, with immense satisfaction, admire the wet mark left behind. “Huh?” I ask distractedly, busying myself with unhooking the bra and tossing it on the floor.
“Can you—” I raise my head when she cuts herself off. Even in the dark, I can make out the flush on her cheeks. “Can you touch me?”
One of her hands finds mine, closing gently around my wrist. She brings my hand down between us, between her legs. I need no further encouragement to press my palm against her, groaning when I find her hot and damp even through her bottoms.
And that’s when my brain slows down enough for it to hit me that I actually have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
“I don’t—” Now my face is heating up. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”
My words are a bucket of cold water, immediately extinguishing the heat in the room. Azalea stares at me. “You—sorry. Have you not ever…?”
Oh,thisis fucking embarrassing. I move my hands away from her. “Um—once. In high school. But I didn’t…touch her.”
She gasps. “Maverick!”
“I didn’t know any better!”
