Instead, he rests his hand on the counter behind me, effectively boxing me in. His eyes trail slowly down to my lips. “You gonna keep pretending you don’t want me,” he says, “or are you waiting for me to do something about it?”
I blink as my heart skips a beat so hard it hurts.
“I’m waiting,” I say evenly, “for you to stop acting like every woman melts at your feet.”
His smile turns wicked. “They do, but I don’t wantthem.”
My chest tightens.
He’s too fucking close for my own good, and it’s stupidly annoying how good he is at this.
I lift my chin. “You think you’re irresistible?”
He smirks as his thumb drags across my bottom lip. “No, I think you hate that you want me this bad.”
And fuck me, he’s not wrong.
maverick
. . .
“Don’t do anything disgusting while I’m gone.”
Amelia screeches at me as she leaves for the tattoo studio.
I chose to stay behind at her apartment.
Maggie wanted to have a phone call in about ten minutes, and I felt like being alone.
Running both hands through my hair, my elbows rest on my knees as I lean forward, staring blankly at the muted television screen across the room. The only thing louder than the silence is the pulse pounding in my ears and the ache settling low in my gut.
Every damn part of me is tense, tight, and screaming for her.
I glance down at the obvious strain in my sweatpants, my cock hardening with each second she lingers in my mind. I close my eyes and let the images come freely—her dark hair slightly damp, skin still flushed from the hot shower she took, and her oversized T-shirt clinging to her curves in all the right places.
Shifting lower on the couch, I let my head fall back against the cushion as I slide a hand beneath the waistband of my sweats. My fingers wrap around my cock, already thick and throbbing with the need to feel something. I stroke slowly at first, trying to focus, trying to hold onto the way she bit her lip when she caught me watching her. The way her body leaned slightly toward mine when she laughed.
That laugh…I’d fucking kill to hear it again.
Stroking myself to the thought of her, the pressure already tightens in my core as my other hand drags across my abdomen, my fingertips brushing over the faint trail of hair leading down my abs. I picture her mouth kissing up my abs slowly, until she meets my lips.
I imagine the way her pretty pink lips would look parted around my cock, her green eyes hooded and lashes fluttering as she sank lower, taking me in.
A groan slips from my throat.
Speeding up the motion, my cock leaks with precum, the friction nearly perfect, but not enough.
It’s never enough when all I want is her. I want the weight of her bare thighs over my hips. I want to hear her breath hitch when I sink inside her. I know she’d try to fight it, to pretend it didn’t wreck her the way I know it would.
My grip tightens around my shaft as the thought spins out of control—Amelia flushed, her voice hoarse, calling my name like it’s the only thing she remembers. I imagine her hands fisting my shirt, her head thrown back as I fuck her slowly, making her feel every inch of how gone I am for her.
“Fuck,” I grit out through my teeth.
The pressure coils tighter, every muscle in my body straining as I chase the release she’s unknowingly been denying me. I picture her smirking beneath me, calling mean idiot, and rolling her eyes, all while begging me not to stop.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I glance over, and it’s my lovely PR agent cockblocking me.
