When I don’t answer, he leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead.“I’ll wait until you’re ready.I’m not going anywhere.”
He leaves quietly.And I move automatically.Putting away dishes and picking up toys.I find myself sitting on the edge of my bed listening to the quiet rise and fall of Ivy’s breathing through the baby monitor.
I touch my lips, still tingling, still swollen from his kiss.Heat pools low in my belly, a constant reminder of what I want and what I shouldn’t want.I close my eyes, remembering the way his hands gripped my waist, the way his voice roughened with need.
I didn’t just feel wanted.I’d felt alive.And that scares me more than anything.Because what if I let him back in and it all falls apart again?What if Ivy gets caught in the wreckage this time?But then, what if he is telling the truth?
What if the man who held our daughter’s hand at the fair, who let her bury him in sand at the park, who quit his vices just to show her he could be steady ...what ifthatman is real?
I curl up, burying my face in the pillow, my body still aching with arousal, my heart pounding with fear.And somewhere beneath it all, softer but no less real, is hope.Hope that maybe the flames won’t destroy us this time.
Maybe they can light the way home.
Chapter Twenty-One
I Want More
Maverick
The pantry kiss won’t leave me.
Days pass, but every time I close my eyes, I feel her pressed against me.The taste of her, the sound of her breathing hard against my mouth, the way her body melted into mine before her brain caught up.
She wanted me.She can deny it all she wants, but I felt the truth in her trembling hands, in the way she gasped my name like it still belonged to her.And I wasn’t about to let that go.
I think about it as I drive to her house, carrying takeout from her favorite little diner.Ivy spots me first, squealing as she races into the kitchen.
“Mav!”She grabs my hand, dragging me toward the table.“Did you bring fries?Did you bring the milkshake?”
I grin, handing her the bag.“Of course.Extra whipped cream, just like you like it.”
She bounces, already digging into the paper sack.Zora hovered in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowing on me.“You didn’t have to do that.”
I shrug, meeting her gaze head-on.“I wanted to.”
Something flickers in her eyes—irritation, maybe.Or the memory of my mouth on hers.Either way, it had heat in it and I’ll take that any day of the week.
