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Willow
I glanceout the window of my apartment, wary of any movement in the darkening streets below. Ever since the first disturbing letter arrived, my world has shrunk.
My days are consumed with watching over my shoulder, starting at unexpected sounds. I've stopped my morning runs, canceled appearances, changed my number. But nothing feels safe anymore.
At night, I toss and turn, imagining his cold eyes watching me. What does Vincent Barnes want? Why has he fixated on me?
Exhausted, I sink onto the couch next to Maverick. He's been my rock through this nightmare. I don't know what I'd do without him right now.
"Maverick, be honest. Do you think he'll actually try to hurt me?" My voice wavers.
Maverick's jaw tightens, his expression grim. "I won't let that happen. We're going to find him and put a stop to this."
"But how? The police keep saying there's nothing they can do until he actually approaches me. I feel so powerless just waiting for that to happen."
Maverick turns to face me, his eyes burning with intensity. "I promise you, Willow, I'm handling this. I've got every resource on it. No one is going to get near you."
I search his face and see the truth there. Maverick won't let me down. For the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickers inside me.
I cling to that hope as I get ready for bed, Maverick stationed just outside my room as always. Sliding under the covers, I will my racing mind to quiet.
But then I hear a sharp crack on the window and scream.
Maverick is in the room in half a second. He instantly runs to the window to check everything out as he radios his team outside. Once he gets the all clear, I see his big shoulders relax as he turns to me.
I'm still huddled in the bed sitting up with the covers pulled up to my chin in terror like a ridiculous little girl when Maverick slowly crosses the room toward me.
"It's okay, Willow," he tells me gently. It was just a branch hitting the window.
My shoulders slump in relief, and then a wave of embarrassment washes over me. I drop my face into my hands and begin to cry, all the stress and anxiety of the past few weeks finally coming out.
Maverick sits on the edge of the bed uncertainly, and then I don't know what comes over me, but I throw myself into his arms.
He catches me, and I climb into his lap so that I'm straddling him. I burrow my face into his chest and cry, taking comfort in how safe I feel with his big arms wrapped around me. I deeply breathe in his sandalwood scent and let it comfort me.
He strokes his hands over my hair soothingly and whispers soothing words to me. "It's okay. I've got you, little songbird."
Little songbird. I love how he calls me that. And I love it when he calls me his girl. I know he might not mean it the way it sounds, but I am.
I'm his.
"Stay with me tonight, Maverick."
Maverick goes completely still, but I press on. "Please. Please don't leave me alone."
His eyes darken, conflict playing across his rugged features. I know this crosses the line of duty, but in this moment nothing else matters but the heat coursing between us.
He's quiet for a moment before he finally whispers in a ragged voice. "I'll never leave you alone, Willow. I'll always be here to protect you."
I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair, and pull his mouth down to mine. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just following some instinct that's guiding me.
His lips are firm yet gentle as he returns my kiss. He groans, and I can feel his hands trembling against my back as he pulls me closer and deepens the kiss, our tongues dancing in reckless desire.
My skin tingles everywhere his hands explore. I cling to him, craving more of his touch, his taste, his scent.
A pounding ache builds in my core as he trails kisses down my neck.
"Maverick," I whisper, and it's a plea and a prayer all at once.
