I’m also reminded that, in order to access his trust fund, Maverick has to be involved in charitable giving. Now I understand why he sponsors arts for underprivileged kids, funneling those with both talent and passion into programs that help them to develop their skills and options for the future.
As I continue to marvel, my phone buzzes.
It’s Joni.
Joni: Everything’s been cleaned up on our side. Nothing has reached the department.
Joni: You still have a job if you want one.
Joni: But if the Guardians offer you something with their team, I think you should take it.
I’m not ready to let my brain go there right now, mostly because Maverick just walked out in a towel. Gorgeous, spangled with droplets on his broad shoulders, his hair loose and heavy with water.
“You’re stunning,” I breathe out, silencing my phone before putting it away.
Everything makes sense, and nothing makes sense.
“I know it’s kind of crazy in here,” he says, toeing the dark wood floor. “But think untidy, not dirty.”
“This isn’t untidy.” I pull him into a tight grip, nosing his hairline before laying a deep, heavy kiss on his sweet lips. “It’s a peek inside your brain. I didn’t know you were an artist.”
He looks around his room, perhaps viewing the various elements with new eyes.
“I suppose it is quite the vignette.”
“I would love to paint this room,” I say, finding I mean it. In the abstract, so much can be said about this place. “Maybe while you worked on one of your projects.”
“Really?” he asks, gently shaking out his curls.
“Really.” I tap my chin, trying to remember… something. “This reminds me of a place. I can’t….”
“I always think of Hong Kong when I come in here,” he jokes.
I snap my fingers. “That’s it! This reminds me of Hong Kong. Bright colors layered one on top of the other, but without the noise. I don’t know if I have the words to describe it, but there is an organization to this.” I kiss his forehead and remove his towel. “Maybe not any kind of organization I’ve ever seen before, but there’s an order to it. It’s peaceful.”
“It’s one of my favorite spaces,” he admits softly.
We kiss. Passionately. Desperately. My clothes disappear from my body. Soon enough, we’ve made our way over to the sensual, otherworldly loft bed, under the silken quilts, naked, facing each other, wrapped up in each other.
Maverick pulls back, his chest heaving. “I’m so sorry for ruining your li?—”
I press the tips of my fingers to his lips. “No apologies. You didn’t ruin anything.”
“You sure about that?” he asks, and there’s a desperation behind the question that makes me think he needs to believe me.
“I’m not sure about much right now,” I say, needing him to see that I’ll always be honest with him, “but I am sure about you.”
We kiss on those words, and I’m stunned by how true they are.
I pull back to tell him this and find that he’s blinking away tears. I cup his chin.
“Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
He sniffs and lets out a dry laugh. “I can’t get my head around the fact that my Booney is kissing me as much as I’m kissing him. Holding me tight like he can’t imagine letting go. I thought I was the only one who felt this way.”
He’d said something similar back at my apartment, and I realize that, after everything we’ve been through today, he needs reassurance.
“You’re not. I’m here right with you.”
