“Keep her name out of your mouth,” he says evenly, kicking Jax’s foot out of his way.
“Let’s go,” Maverick growls, grabbing my hand with steel-firm fingers as he pulls me through the crowd.
I wobble in my heels, but he catches me and keeps me steady. He holds on tight, even as Maggie starts shouting from behind us.
He guides me out through the back exit, the cool night air hitting my flushed skin as the doors slam shut behind us. His matte green Bronco is parked at the curb, engine already purring.
He throws open the passenger door. “Get in, dollface.”
I slide in, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. He circles the front of the Bronco in seconds and climbs in beside me. His hands still tremble on the wheel.
I reach for him, my fingers curling around his wrist. “Mav?—”
He turns, grabs my face with both hands, and kisses me.
Hard, desperate, and painfully longing.
It’s not the gentle, teasing type we’ve been pretending for the cameras. This is raw and messy. He kisses me as if he’s asserting his claim, like I belong to him.
And I don’t fight it.
His hands tangle in my hair, his mouth slanting over mine again and again.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles between kisses. “I couldn’t stand the way he looked at you. The way he talked to you. I should’ve done more?—”
“Stop,” I whisper against his lips, breathless. “You did enough.”
We’re both breathless when he finally pulls away, his forehead pressed against mine, panting.
His voice is hoarse. “You okay?”
I nod.Barely. “Are you?”
He exhales a laugh, one hand cupping my cheek. “Not even close.”
I lean in again, brushing my mouth against his. “Then let’s get out of here.”
He floors it.
We turnoff the highway onto the back road to Mavericks’ place. His Bronco rumbles up the long driveway, gravel crunching under the tires until he turns off the engine with a quick twist of his wrist.
“Come here,” he says, not giving me a chance to protest before scooping me up bridal style, my silk dress sliding dangerously high up my thighs.
“Maverick—”
“Can’t,” he whispers against my temple. “Can’t take it anymore, dollface. Been holdin’ it in since the second you walked out in that dress.” His grip tightens as he strides toward the front door. “You have no idea what you’ve been doin’ to me.”
The lock clicks open, and he nudges the door with his foot. The house is dark, the faint scent of cedar and his cologne wrapping around me the second we’re inside.
He doesn’t set me down right away. Instead, he presses me against the wall just inside the entryway, his forehead resting against mine, breath ragged. “Please,” he says, a low, desperate rasp that doesn’t sound like the cocky quarterback the world knows. “Please, Amelia. I’m losin’ my goddamn mind.”
I slide down until my heels hit the floor, but he followsme, his big hands framing my face before dropping to my hips, then lower, until he’s on his knees in front of me, looking up at me.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t good, ” he says, running his palms slowly up the backs of my calves, the heat of him seeping through the thin silk. “I shouldn’t have hit him, please, I need you.”
I let him kneel there for a moment longer, his eyes locked on mine, before tilting my head and finally speaking.
“Okay.”
