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When he stopped in the doorframe and stared down at me, I felt myself quiver. “Excuse you,” I said unable to stop myself.
His long fingers clutched into fists at his sides before he squatted down just in front of me. The smell of his cologne did unimaginable things to me, and I hated myself for being attracted to it, especially when he said, “Watch your mouth. Or you’ll regret it.”
The car door opened, causing my leg to tumble down and my dream to crash into a nightmare.
“Ouch!” I screamed, sitting up straight, I searched through heavy, tired eyes at him. “What in the Hell?”
Maverick stood over me, looking like a dream that no one would suspect to be a nightmare. The practice jersey with his number 32 on the front fit him like a molded cast. “What are you doing?” he hissed out, his jaw clenched.
I curled my foot inside and rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palms. “I was sleeping. What time is it—,” I searched my floorboard for my cell phone and sighed when I noticed the time. “I’m not late—,”
“Get up.”
My head jerked as I glared at Maverick with confused eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
This was not high school. I refused to let him scare me into submission any longer.
An array of emotions raced across his face as his fists clenched at his sides, with a familiar look in his mossy eyes.
“You’re an idiot,” he spat, grabbing my wrist, and hauling me out of my backseat. I stumbled to catch my footing, my bare feet hitting the warm asphalt as I caught myself on an old red van parked next to me.
Maverick slammed my door so hard the window shook. When he turned to me, he looked like an angry demi-god with lean muscles and a mouth, that although frowned and snarled at me, looked delectable.
Those mossy eyes lowered, and I felt myself turn warm when I noticed my hardened morning nipples displaying through my ratty Zachary Year Book t-shirt.
Slowly, I wrapped my arms around myself to hide the evidence of how his closeness affected me. “Go upstairs,” he ordered. “You’re not sleeping in your car like a hobo. Someone could have attacked you.”
I stood astonished at first, my head reeling for answers that I wouldn’t get from Maverick Booker—theKing of Silence. “Why the hell do you care what happens to me?” I asked. “You never have before.”
Shocker—he didn’t answer me, he glared. I was thankful that he hadn’t tripped me or cursed me out under his breath. Maverick had bullied me more than anyone from Kindergarten through twelfth grade combined in four short years.
“Go upstairs. Jordan will let you in. You’ll take the room until you can find something else.”
I huffed, trying to tame my hair. “I’m not going—,”
A slight sound came from deep in his throat, and he bent down to open my door, grabbed my duffle bag, and slung it over his shoulder. Fear floored me because I didn’t know what he’d do with it. Maybe he’d throw all my clothes in the trash or burn them—it wouldn’t be the first time he stole and demolished my things.
I tried to grab my strap, desperate to keep my things safe when he lunged forward and tossed me over his shoulder. I wailed out, feeling his large fingers dig into the back of my thigh as he carried me toward the apartment building.
All my fear bubbled up my throat as I wailed out for him to drop me—please put me down. The possibilities of what he’d do to me swam around in my head, clouding my judgment and thoughts.
Maverick never touched me sexually—aggressively sure, but never in a way that made me think he wanted me—but this, carrying me up to his apartment? The fear of rape or … whatever else he could make me do brought tears to my eyes.
As my body betrayed me with the smell of his skin and the rough feeling of his hands against me, I still held my ground—not literally—because my feet dangled in the air, but I wouldn’t let him hurt me.
The door opened and I heard, “Dude, I don’t think she wants to be here—,”
Maverick tossed me against their hand-me-down couch and I felt my fear seep out like a balloon when Jordan stood behind him.
“Take a shower and get ready for class,” he said. “We’re leaving. You'll take the spare room. You can have it until you find another place. If I come back and you haven’t moved your stuff in … you’ll regret it.”
The door slammed with the deja vuofyou’ll regret itin my head. The silence felt good, not to mention the air conditioner that cooled my heated skin. I leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath.
Sleeping in my car the night before had been Hell. I’d be the first one to admit it. The thought of sleeping in the same apartment as Maverick hurt more—I was sure of it.
It was almost six when I finally peeled myself off the couch and toward the only bathroom. Surprisingly, it looked cleaner than I would have guessed, but it smelled like him.
I took off my clothes, locked the door even though I was alone, and basked in the glory of the hot shower. My first class didn’t start until eight, which gave me enough time to get ready and leave.
