Still, I found it satisfying that his mere presence was enough to unnerve Idiot Charles, and it helped me shake off any lingering irritation from Maverick’s attention.
My gaze moved from Maverick and fell to Brooke at the other end of the bar. She smirked and pulled Magnum’s attention away, then motioned with her head to Maverick. I shook my head, knowing the context was clear—that the man rubbing slow circles on my waist with his thumb could handle any drama.
“Who I am doesn’t matter,” he growled, letting the aggression drip from his words. “All you need to know is that I’m someonewho doesn’t take kindly to little boys who refuse to respect a beautiful woman.”
What? Beautiful?
My eyes went from somewhere over the douche’s right shoulder back to Maverick’s face, watching as his jaw clenched and his pupils dilated.
“Are you threatening me?” the sniveler whined, puffing his chest and dropping his fists to his side.
I opened my mouth to respond to the taunt, but Maverick’s fingers dug into my waist, silencing whatever insult was on my lips. My tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth as I held back a moan. Not from pain or annoyance, but because I didn’t want him to hear how good it felt to have his arm around me.
Goose bumps appeared along the exposed flesh of my belly as he snaked his other arm around my waist and pulled me between his legs.
This went beyond helping me out of an uncomfortable situation, right?
This was more.
“Threatening you?” he chuckled, moving my hair off my shoulder and running his nose along the column of my neck. I arched into his touch, closing my eyes and forgetting about everything but him. “I wouldn’t waste my time threatening you, because it wouldn’t be me kicking your ass.”
Maverick slid his gaze to mine, and even though I lacked the intimidation factor, I still stood straighter and crossed my arms, glaring at the Invertebrate Formerly Known as Charles, who took a step toward the exit, finally having the common sense to make a good decision.
“I will step in if she needs me to, but I would love to watch her tear you to shreds.”
The heavy bass changed from pulsing in time with my heartbeat to something slow and sensual.
Maverick didn’t say anything more, and he didn’t move from his position, though his fingers twitched like he wanted to put his hands on that douche canoe and escort his lecherous ass to the exit. I exhaled slowly, dragging my eyes from his long, dexterous fingers to his ridiculously tall stature until our gazes met. His eyes narrowed, and his brow creased as he studied me.
“Whatever. You can have the standoffish bitch,” Feeble Charles growled, turning to stalk the rest of the way toward the door. I followed his departure, scoffing as he shot the bird over his shoulder before disappearing into the night.
“Apparently, you can have me,” I murmured, gathering my hair from where Maverick had pulled it to the side and twisting it into a knot on the top of my head. The bar was too warm, and my overheated skin tingled with the buzz of adrenaline.
Sure. I’d go with that. My current temperature had absolutely nothing to do with his hand still on my waist, his thumb continuing with the soothing circles on my hip. I allowed myself to step further back, pressing my back against his chest, and sighing.
It felt good.
Great.
Flipping fantastic.
A part of me balked that I was so desperate for the barest of human touch that I was soaking up Maverick’s affection like a sponge in a desert oasis. Another part of me blamed the one margarita I had flowing through my veins. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to be the one to break contact. Not when it felt so good.
“I hope that asshole didn’t think he was actually charming,” Maverick said, scoffing and tightening his hold on my waist.
This was a disaster. What had started as an innocent way to spend time with new people and burn off steam, had turned me into a perimenopausal jumble of feelings…and arousal.
Arousal—that was the sensation. The tightening of my abdomen. The light sheen of sweat on the back of my neck…
Maverick’s touch aroused me.
So did his possessive words.
“Charming? No. Hoping to get laid? Probably.” I leaned my head back on his chest and rested my hands on his knees, soaking up as much contact as I could.
“Glad to see your standards haven’t been affected by your drinking.”
“Haven’t we already had this conversation?” I said, turning to face him and propping one hand on my hip. The movement dragged his fingers from my waist, but my body remained between his large, spread legs.
