“Mine,” he growls, grabbing me by the back of my neck and crushing his mouth to mine. I receive the kiss eagerly, opening to him as he lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist as he uses his other hand to cradle my ass and hold me up.
I barely hear the cacophony happening in the background as our tongues dance together, learning what each other likes. He smells like pine trees and campfire, and he tastes like home. I grab his plump bottom lip with my teeth, scraping the tender flesh as he groans deep in his throat. Heat pools between my thighs, but before I can insist we go back to his tent to finish this, he pulls away and sets me down. His eyes are dark—hungry—and I wonder if he feels as ravenous as me.
Everything else that faded away while we kissed comes back into focus. “Get a room!” someone yells, causing laughter to erupt among the camp. My cheeks heat and whistles ring out, cheering us on.
Maverick pulls me into his side with a hand around my waist, andgodit feels amazing to have him touch me like this. In public. With everyone watching. His claim on me isn’t some Brotherhood misogynistic bullshit, but rather a proud declaration of our partnership asequals, even if he did sound like a caveman when he made his claim.
I look up at him with a smile. “Didn’t peg you for the jealous type, Rebel Man.”
He chuckles, leaning down to speak in my ear. “Not jealous, darlin’.” His hot breath tickles my neck, causing shivers to erupt across my entire body. “Protective.”
“Mmm,” I hum, still smiling. “Are you sure you don’t mean possessive?”
He shrugs. “That too. Respectfully, of course.”
I laugh. “Respectfully possessive? How does one accomplish such an oxymoronic feat?”
“Believe me, darlin’.” His voice deepens. “It’s more than possible.”
I swallow, somehow picturing exactly what he means.His hands on my hips, guiding my movements, focusing on my pleasure because he wants to, not because he has to. Claiming me, body and soul.
“Prove it,” I dare him.
“Delilah.” My name on his lips is a warning, like the snarl of a cornered animal.
“Maverick,” I parrot, turning to speak in his ear and nipping at the soft flesh of his earlobe.
He groans. “We’ve talked about this.”
I hum. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we should be doinglesstalking.”
“Baby,” he pleads. The desperation in his tone makes me think he’s seconds from caving in to my request.
I pull back, cradling his cheeks while searching his eyes. “Let me show you how I feel about you.”
He grabs my hands off his face and kisses them. “You have. You don’t need to use your body to convince me of something I already know.”
Tears sting my eyes as he rejects my advance for a third time. But this time, it’s not from hurt. As much as I would love to climb him like a tree, I know there’s truth to what he’s saying. Perhaps I still haven’t fully healed from my past, from being taught to use my body as a vessel for male pleasure.
I’m not crying because he keeps telling me no. I’m crying because this man has continuously put me first. In fact, he’s the only man who haseverput me first. My heart, my safety, my body, all of it protected by this person who I thought was my enemy, and has instead turned out to be my greatest ally.
Delilah
Present Day
“The least I can do is speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves.”–JANE GOODALL
The water is choppy today, the clouds dark, and I can’t help but feel like it’s an omen of what’s to come. I lean over the ferry’s railing and heave for the third time, though there’s nothing left in my stomach at this point. I barely had any breakfast to begin with, unable to tolerate much after the night of carefree drinking and the impending meeting today.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, accepting the water bottle Maverick’s holding out to me with shaky hands. I take a long swig before smiling weakly. “Thank you.”
He places his palm flat on my lower back, speaking low. “You don’t have to do this. Just say the word and we’ll turn around right now.”
I look up at him, hoping I don’t still look as sick as I feel. “Come on, Rebel Man. We both know that’s wishful thinking.”
Maverick brushes a damp piece of hair off my forehead, concern marring his brow. “Not for you, darlin’.”
I muster a half-hearted glare. “You would sacrifice everything you’ve built, everyone you’ve saved, just because I’m feeling a little nauseous?”
