“Go with that instant. Instinct.” He grimaces at the word mix-up. “But you’re safe now?”
She smiles and sets down her phone, reaching for something off camera. Seconds later, her answer comes in the form of the distinctka-chukof a round being chambered.
I’m relieved but tempted to make sure she’s well-versed in gun safety.
Taylor comes back into frame and sends us a wink.
“Damn, I love you,” Maverick says with a smile.
“I love you more,” she responds, and he ends the call.
“See? You don’t have to worry about Ms. Tay-Tay.” He tries to pocket his phone, seeming to finally remember that he’s only wearing underwear.
Looking around for his shorts, he continues, “Also? She’s the president of Kappa Kappa Something, and she is fucking ruthless when it comes to exposing shitty guys on campus.”
Good.
“If she has any contacts in the fraternities, she should share his information with them as well.”
“Will do.” He stops, spinning in place. “Where the fuck did my shorts go? I just had them.”
Not exactly proud of how I’ve handled things tonight, I let him look for a few more seconds before grabbing them from the lip of the fountain.
“Here,” I say, handing them to him. “I need to get you home.”
“You know where I live?” he asks, leaning forward, probably dizzy from all the spinning.
“Yeah.” I place my arm around him, steadying him. “You okay?” I ask, worried. “Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
“Nope. This is not how I wanna go viral.”
“Maverick…”
He holds up his hand, taking a few shallow breaths. Finally, he seems to steady himself.
“I’m fine, really. Besides, my cousin is home, and she’s a world-class doctor, even if she is a liar.” Not sure where he’s going with that line of thought, but he points to a sporty number across the street. “Also, we can take my car, if you don’t mind driving.”
“Yeah, that’ll work,” I answer, scanning the area, grateful we’re alone. “Let’s get you dressed and then head out.”
Maverick gestures at his gorgeous body with his tiny micro shorts in hand. “You sure you wanna cover all this up?”
I raise a brow. “Yes.”
No.
“Ugh. Why are you such a prude, Defective?”
I raise my brows again. Another word misfire?
“Detective,” he grumbles, annoyed with himself.
“I’m not a prude,” I insist.Not sure why I sound so defensive.“I just don’t take advantage of guys in an altered state.”
He circles his hips, his soft cock lewd with the movement. “Do you need to cuff me again? I don’t want you to be imitated by my package.”
I lower my chin and my shoulders shake with the effort it takes to not laugh outright.
“Cry do not,” he says, imitating the little green dude from that old movie as he pats my shoulder. “Damn, those are some nice muscles.”
