When he crosses the distance, when he wraps me in his steel-band arms, I break hard against his chest, trembling and sobbing.
Curling my fingers into his shirt, I plead, “Please, Maverick. Don’t let them take me away. Don’t let them take me from you.”
I want him to say,never. To lie to me and make me feel better. Instead, he holds tighter, burying his face in my hair.
And that’s when I know that I have to take a piece of him with me. No matter how much it hurts. Even if it wrecks me. I can’t leavewithout him.
“Please, Maverick,” I sob, clinging to him. “Pretend you love me. Show me how that feels, just once.”
He pulls back, dark eyes wild. “I can’t do that, Mia.”
“Why not?” My voice trembles.
“Because it won’t be pretend.”
The words are lightning.
Then, he’s on me.
Hands gripping my face, mouth seeking. Walking me backward. My shoulder blades hit the wall, head cradled by one hand. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, a growl rumbling through his chest. Passion ignites, wildfire behind my ribs.
He lifts me off the ground, and my legs wrap around his waist, hands gripping his neck.
“Need you,” he grunts.
The backs of my eyes sting as he presses me hard against the wall, his firm length digging into my thigh. I gasp as he changes the angle, deepening the kiss.
A savage look fills his eyes, his hands roaming my body, claiming every inch.
“We should stop,” he grunts.
“No.”
I rest my head against the wall, devouring him through tear-moistened lashes, etching him forever in my memory. The smell of pine. The heat of rock-hard muscles. The obsidian eyes that strip me down to my soul.
“But if I take this from you?—”
“You can’t take anything from me, Maverick, unless you say no.”
That’s when he decides, mouth crashing into me again, hands fighting with my clothes as we head down the hallway. He lowers me onto the mattress, face stern and beautiful, body straining to hold back.
Our gaze never breaks as I slide out of my jeans and shirt. Then, my bra and panties. He matches me item for item—denim and cotton, leather and steel—until nothing lingers between us but air.
His chest is broad and rippled, abs taut and defined. Threads of silver web near one hip, trauma branded in flesh. But it’s his firm, veiny length, so taut it looks angry, that steals my breath.
“You’re stunning, Mia,” he says, raw-voiced, eyes sliding over me.
He pauses, swallowing hard.
Then, “I’m clean, and I have condoms.”
My throat tightens, goosebumps lining my skin.We’re really doing this.
“No condoms,” I pant. “I’m clean, too, and I need tofeelyou.”
He moves with the agility of a puma. Muscles dancing beneath skin as he presses me into the bed, bracing with one arm—enough weight to reassure me I’m not alone.
His kiss is ignition. His calloused hands slide over my hips and waist. Then, up to my breasts. I gasp, his thumb sliding over one pebbled nipple. The breath hitches in his throat as he dips his head, burying me in the heat of his wicked mouth.
