I closed my eyes and let all my anxieties melt away, focusing on his touch. His fingers were warm and calloused as they pressed into my skin, while his breath came out in harsh pants against my stomach. I groaned at the dual sensations and stepped closer until my knees met the edge of the sofa. The need to crawl into his lap and roll my hips against his straining hard-on warred with my desire to give up control and let him take the lead.
“It feels like my skin is too tight and I can’t draw enough air into my lungs. I’m desperate for you to rip my dress to shreds and put your mouth on my body, claiming me. But in the same breath, I’m filled with doubt.”
“Doubt about me?” he rumbled, trailing his fingers down my waist and to my thighs, where he gripped the bottom of my dress and edged it higher.
One eyebrow rose as I bit my lip and nodded my head, not wanting him to stop his pursuit. I’d gone all out with my panties, choosing a matching lace set in a deep navy blue that accentuated my pale skin. The lace-trimmed bra had just the right amount of support to give me ample cleavage while still looking delicate.
“Ah. You think we’re moving too fast?”
I stayed silent, watching a slew of emotions play across his features as his fingers skimmed over my bare skin. His breath hitched as he pulled me closer, resting his head against my stomach and inhaling deeply. If I weren’t so confused andaroused by his words, I’d run my fingers through his hair before reaching back to unclasp my bra.
“Or maybe you think this is nothing more than sex?”
I could take the insecurity. But I wouldn’t stand here and listen to him debase whatever this was. The self-sabotage needed to end.
Showing more confidence than I felt, I straddled his lap, bracing one knee on either side of him and pulling my dress over my head. It fluttered to the floor as I placed one hand on either cheek, pressing myself firmly in his lap. I felt his arousal, and it ramped up my own, but I pushed it aside, knowing he needed to hear this as much as I needed to say it.
“I think you need to stop making assumptions. I would have gladly fucked you against the door,” I whispered before leaning in and pressing my mouth against his.
When I pulled away, he chased my lips, and I let him, licking into his mouth and moaning as he met me stroke for stroke. Out of my control and without realizing it, I rolled my hips, feeling his cock press perfectly between my legs. The only thing separating us was his slacks and a very thin, very wet scrap of lace. It was entirely too many clothes, and something I planned on rectifying soon.
“I also would have gladly shared a beer with you on the couch, watching a bad sci-fi horror flick and talking. Or taking Malibu for a walk around your property—as long as you can guarantee all the mosquitoes are dead.”
Maverick chuckled as I scratched my short nails through his scalp. He purred—or perhaps growled—like a large feline who allowed himself to be petted. He tilted his head back and rested his chin against my belly, letting his hot breath tickle my skin. The prolonged contact with him felt like a missing part of me had slipped into place, filling a void I’d long since neglected.
“I meant what I said at the restaurant. I enjoy spending time with you, and I want to keep doing so. But not if we let every negative thought control our actions.” It sounded like the right thing to say and perhaps speaking the fear out loud would do some good. Force us both to go beyond our comfort.
“Fuck.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist as mine went to his neck, threading loosely behind his head before resting on his shoulders.
“I do it too. My anxiety is a force to be reckoned with. I overthink and second-guess and then do it again. But one thing I’ve learned through all the nonsense in my life is that the strongest connections are not based on assumptions. They’re built on truth, grace, and the courage to keep trying.”
I traced the lines of his jaw with my fingertips, and he leaned into my touch. The moment was more intimate than anything we’d shared, and with astonishing clarity, I saw the vulnerable man hidden behind his tough exterior. It showed through in the crease between his brows and the tension in his shoulders, born from self-hatred and doubt.
“I want to try with you, Summer,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Malibu lifted her head from her bed beside the sectional and tilted her head. I smiled, and she yawned, changing positions and settling back down.
We’d made it to the crux of things—two broken people desperate for a connection but unsure how to attain it.
I’d never expected to feel like this so quickly, and my first thought was to make light of everything and chalk it up to the orgasms. But the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to grab onto his lapels and kiss him until it made sense. So, I did the only rational thing and pressed my mouth to his.
My hands rested on his chest as I pushed him back onto the couch, and moved my hands to the buttons of his shirt. With each button that slipped free, I kissed another spot on his face, letting my lips glide over his stubbled skin. After I undid the buttons and exposed his chest, I sat back on his lap and just stared.
As he leaned forward and his shirt slid from his body, I saw the tattoos that started below his Adam’s apple and then went over his shoulder and down his arms. Beautifully colored flowers, twisting vines, and sharp thorns adorned his skin, woven together in an intricate tapestry of species I barely recognized. It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous. And I wanted to map every inch of him with my fingers, and then my tongue.
Nestled between us, his cock strained against the front of his slacks—thick, hard, and no less impressive than it had been when I last felt it inside of me. But now, it was twitching behind the dark fabric with pulsing urgency, trapped.
My mind conjured picture after filthy picture. His body taking mine in every position. Me riding him. Him bending me over the couch. Kneeling between his spread legs. Draped across his bed while his hands gripped my thighs and that thick cock drove into me until I couldn’t remember my name. A soft whimper escaped my lips as he rolled his hips against my eager clit.
We’d have days, weeks, months, years to talk, but now we both needed the reassurance that could only be found with skin on skin.
His mouth crashed back into mine with a bruising force. Hot, needy, and with a fire that consumed me from the inside out. I writhed against him, hands grasping at his chest to pull him closer until there was no space left. We were teeth and noise and hunger as his hands found my waist and he rocked against me, giving me the friction I craved.
One stayed on my waist as we rocked together while the other fumbled with my bra clasp. “Fuck, you feel good. I need to take you to bed.”
“No,” I moaned, throwing my head back as his hands traveled to my breasts and he squeezed them together, burying his face in between. “I need you now. Right here. Take me. Mark me. Claim me, Maverick.”
