I’m about to respond to him, but the air is knocked out of my lungs as he pulls me into a hug.
It’s not one of those friendly, awkward one-armed hugs; this is entirely different, and it drives me wild.
He wraps both of his big arms around me, the heat of his body cocooning me, causing my eyes to flutter shut. I let myself enjoy it for one brief second. His hand is splayed across the small of my back, as the other is up between my shoulder blades. My face ends up against his chest, and I feel the solid thump of his heartbeat against my cheek.
I don’t pull away.
His body visually is all hard lines and muscle, but being held by him makes me feel safe, and something in my gut twists at how good it feels. I deeply crave more of his touch, the touch of a man I have deprived myself for years because of one stupid one.
His fingers tighten just slightly, not enough to squeeze, but enough to let me know he’s feeling this too.
I hear his breath pause as he tightens his grip around my waist.
His lips barely brush my hair, like he’s fighting the urge to kiss me.
He doesn’t speak, nor does he ruin it with another dumb joke.
I finally lean back, just enough to look up at him; his blue eyes are darker than they were a moment ago, and his throat bobs when he swallows.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and I hate how breathless it sounds.
He nods once.
For a second, neither of us moves.
The tension is like electricity sparking between our mouths, not quite a kiss but very close. His thumb grazes my waist, causing my stomach to flip.
I do the smart thing, I think, by opening the passenger door and getting in before I make a mistake.
But my hands are shaking, and I can still feel him everywhere.
maverick
. . .
I’ve been up since dawn, hauling vase after vase inside like a maniac, my hands stained green from dye.
She said her favorite flowers were green lilies, and I made it possible. After dinner, she went to sleep, and I got to work.
Green lilies crowd every countertop; the island’s buried, and a few are shoved onto chairs because I ran out of space.
I lean on the counter, adjusting their petals as I hear her footsteps pad downstairs, and I whip around just in time to see her stop dead in the doorway.
She’s drowning in her signature band tee, her hair messy from sleep, eyes wide as she takes in the jungle I’ve built for her.
“What the…” Her voice is husky, cracking at the edges. “Maverick. How?”
I spread my arms wide, showcasing my excellence. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Lilies That Shouldn’t Exist, But Do Because I’m Amazing.” I can’t stop grinning. “Congratulations on your new job, dollface. You wanted green lilies—boom. I’mbasically a magician.”
Her gaze sweeps from the flowers to me, with her lips parted like she’s trying to find the words. Her hand lifts, brushing one of the petals, and I catch the tremble in her fingers before she clenches them into a fist.
“You—” She swallows hard. “You actually did this?”
“Personally ordered dozens of white lilies,” I say proudly, puffing out my chest. “Then, I hand-dyed them myself. It’s called innovation, Amelia. Quarterback by day, florist by night.” I wink, leaning in.
That earns me a sharp glare, until it falters, just for a second, before she covers it with a roll of her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously thoughtful? Yeah, I know.” I shove my hands into my shorts, bouncing on my heels, energy buzzing through me. “Look at you. Shocked, stunned, and utterly in love with me, don’t even try to deny it.”
