“No one else would love you like me.”
“You’re such a crybaby.”
He knocks me to the floor when I try to grab his phone, my suspicions of him cheating on me lingering in my mind. He looms over me on the bathroom floor, snatching his phone out of my hands, telling me that I’m crazy and to mind my fucking business. My heartbeat pounds in my throat, frantic and irregular, and my lungs struggle to fill with air.
I twist and turn, flailing my arms around, trying to break free from his grasp, but it feels like I’m tied down and nothing works. My legs tangle in the sheets, and a strangled, broken sound rips from my throat. It feels like I’m screaming, but all that escapes is a gasp for air.
“Amelia.”
His voice cuts through the fog, yanking me out of the nightmare.
I jolt upright, a cold sweat clinging to my skin, heart pounding so loudly I can feel it in my ears. My breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and I can’t tell where the dream ends and reality begins. Maverick’s room is dark, shrouded in shadows, with only the faint glow of the moon slipping through the wide windows.
He’s at the edge of the bed, chest heaving from running up the stairs. His hair is tousled, his eyes wide and frantic. “Hey—hey, dollface. You’re okay.” His voice is low, thick with sleep but lined with concern. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
Maverick doesn’t hesitate. He climbs onto the bed, moving on instinct, and pulls me into his arms. His hand presses firmly and steadily against the center of my back, while the other curls around my waist as he pulls me onto his lap.
He grounds me in a weird sense, his broad thighsbeneath mine, his chest rising and falling against my cheek. My body trembles in his hold as I fist his bare chest.
“You’re okay. I promise. I’m right here.”
The nightmare breaks apart in fragments, fading with every circle of his thumb over my spine.
I finally lift my head; the room is quiet again. His eyes are tired, heavy-lidded, but the worry carved into his features makes my chest ache. He brushes a damp strand of hair off my forehead without thinking, his thumb trailing down to my jaw.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Maverick frowns immediately. “Don’t be sorry.” His tone is gentle but firm, like he’s shutting down the thought before it can take root.
That’s when I realize just how close we are. My thighs bracket his hips, my tank top damp with sweat and riding up, his hands still holding me steady. His chest rises against mine in short, uneven bursts.
“Shit,” he mutters, clearing his throat as he eases his grip. “We should… lie back down.”
Heat rises in my cheeks as I scramble off him, pulling the blanket up to my chest. He shifts beside me, pulling the covers back over his body and turning onto his side. I mimic him, but the space between us feels too wide.
Lonely.
“Can you…” My voice wavers, thin and unsure. I hate how vulnerable it sounds. “Can you stay?”
The mattress dips without hesitation.
His strong arms slide around me, pulling me back against him. His forearm tucks beneath my head, cradling it gently, while his other hand rests low over my stomach, his palm spreading heat into my bare skin between my shirt and the waistband of my shorts.
His touch isn’t demanding.
It’s steady. Protective.
His breathing evens into rhythmic patterns, each rise and fall brushing against my back until I match it without realizing.
His lips hover near my ear, his voice a sleepy whisper. “Night, dollface.”
The words sink deep.
I close my eyes, letting myself be held.
maverick
