“Pretty sure that’s not a good idea, Hannah.” His tone is rough.
I stare up at him. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
His face is expressionless, but I can clearly see the tick of his jaw. “I think I do.” The elevator dings, and Maverick guides me inside ahead of him. We’re the only two people in the car. He maneuvers me up against the metal railing of the small space, and then he steps backward until he’s as far away from me as possible.
“Maverick.” I reach for him, but I’m too unsteady to leave the railing, so my hand just hangs in the air. “Come here.”
He trains his gaze on the panel as the numbers rise.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maverick
Hannah’s showing me a whole new side of herself tonight.
A drunk side.
But also a vulnerable, sexual side.
One I bet she doesn’t reveal too often or to very many people.
I’m intrigued by these new sides of Hannah.
Understatement of my life. The truth is I want her so badly I’m shaking.
I’ve never felt like this around a woman before.
But I’m also on guard. I feel the need to protect her from guys like me.
Which means I can’t fuck her.
“It’s so hot in here,” she says the minute we walk into our room and the door shuts behind us.
I latch the security lock on the door and head for the climate control box on the wall. I push the down arrow until the cool air is pumping. Then, I rummage through my bag and pull out a t-shirt and sweats.
I toss them onto Hannah’s bed. “Change into those.”
She glares at me. “Bossy man. What if I don’t want to?”
I resist the urge to laugh. “Tough. You spilled beer on your sexy rebound sundress.”Fuck. My mouth just can’t keep quiet.
Hannah’s eyes that are the color of the Vegas sky in daylight narrow. “That’s the second time tonight you’ve brought that up.”
“It’s a hard detail to forget.” But I should. I definitely should.
“How come?” she asks me as she finally takes a seat on her bed.
I exhale. “Ask any guy, and he’ll tell you the same thing.”
“So I’m just any woman to you?”
No.
“Look. Hannah, you’re going through a rough time right now. You’re vulnerable. And I don’t want some asshole—”Even if that asshole is me“—taking advantage of that.” I stuff my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, willing myself not to march across the room and take her into my arms. “You deserve to take your time and only have sex again when you’re ready.”
“Well, that’s a relief then.”
I nod, thinking she finally understands.
