The sight of him naked gives me pause. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at his perfect body.
His narrow waist frames his perfect V. You know the one. The caboose that belongs at the bottom of every mouthwatering ripple of his abs. All…six, no all eight of them. He told me working out is part of his job, that his body is a like a machine because it’s his craft, his tool, for doing anything that is required of him.
For all the hard curves I can’t help but know how easily a human life can be taken. With a deployment to God knows where looming, it makes it so much more real. Sure, I could die in a car accident on the way to my boring accounting job. But I don’t deal in death and danger as a profession. His calculated and uncalculated risks are so high they can’t be deciphered. I offer a weak smile and strip off my shirt, and enter the enormous shower with him. It’s a wet room, with showerheads everywhere. The solitary bottle of some sort of body wash or hair shampoo is on a shelf by his head. I have to laugh. He’s still just a guy.
His gaze is hungry as he watches me walk toward him. I brush against him as I grab the green bottle. There are a few other showerheads I could choose from, but I grab him around his waist instead. He pulls me against him as the hot water cascades over both of us. Every bone in my body softens against him.
“Morganna is pretty pissed. You should probably go corral your friend,” I say against is chest. He kisses me on the top of my head, then dips down and kisses my shoulder.
“You just got in here. Can’t I corral you first?” he asks. I shiver. Not from the cold.
His hard-on presses on my stomach and moves. “You’re so responsive,” I say. He cuts me off with his lips on mine. His tongue slides into my mouth and works in and out. I lean up to grab his face in my hands. It’s scruffy beneath my fingertips, so perfectly manly. He slides his fingers very slowly up the sides of my neck and then into my hair.
Morganna’s giggle finds us in the bathroom. Maverick pulls me, super quickly, behind his back. Sure I’m hidden, but Mav and his huge, manly, beautiful dick are on full display for her.
“She’s giggling,” I say quietly.
“She is. In my bedroom,” he replies tersely. I stifle a giggle myself.
Maverick yells, “Not in my bedroom, Stone!” He palms my breasts in his hands a few times, making my nipples stand at attention, and then shakes his head. “Later,” he rasps, even though his eyes sayright now.
“Later,” I answer. He grabs a towel off a hook on the wall and wraps it around his waist, in that perfect way guys do. I finish showering, using the sole bottle of soap on my entire body and my hair.
When I enter his room it’s blessedly free of Morganna and Stone. Dressing in a dark red shift dress, because I only have work clothing, I put my hair in a messy side-bun. I brush my teeth, do my makeup, and pray I’ve taken so long that Morganna isn’t here anymore. Maverick hasn’t returned so that’s a bad sign. I’ll be answering to Morg about ignoring all her warnings about Maverick. A phone conversation or even a texting match would be preferable to talking face to face with her about whatever awkwardness this is going to be. I glance at Mav’s bed before I exit the bedroom and I get hot and shiver at the same time. I have a goofy grin plastered on my face when I find Morganna sitting on the couch, tapping furiously on her laptop. She’s talking to someone on her blue tooth, of course.
“I don’t care what she says. She’s the one who got herself into this fucking mess to begin with. I can’t help her if she doesn’t keep her collagen filled duck pout shut.” Morganna pauses her tirade. “Of course you can tell her I said that. I’ll fire her ass, I will.” She looks up and smiles at me when I sit on a chair opposite her. The smile on her face looks insane because of the obviously very brash words coming out of her mouth—Jekyll and Hyde in her element. She clicks off her call without saying goodbye. “They’re in the garage doing whatever it is that men do in garages. Getting dirty, trying to add to their appeal,” she says still typing on the computer. “He did tell me you will be joining us on our trip.” She stops typing and looks directly at me, gauging my reaction or trying to tell how I feel about it. Morganna probably has the same lie detecting skills Maverick does.
“Yeah. I’m bringing him with me to see Kathy first,” I say. Morg knows about my mother. She listened to me whine and complain about not having any family while we were in undergrad. My dad died when I was in my teens, leaving me alone. She also knows about the string of stepfathers. All of this adding up to my foolish trust issues. It’s probably why she’s tried to keep me from dating Maverick. Maybe she thinks he’s just bad news for me, not necessarily in general. “The crazy lady has been calling Gretchen to try to get to me. I may be a lot of things, Morg, but I can’t ignore her if she’s actually asking for me. God knows I’ll regret going, but having Maverick there with me will make it a little better.” She hasn’t stopped staring at me since I first opened my mouth. “What?”
“You’re falling for him,” she says. It’s not a question, just an observation. Like she would tell me the color of my dress, or what she had for breakfast. I look down at my hands folded neatly on my lap. “I already told you I’m done meddling, Windsor. You don’t have to be afraid of what I think. I’m starting to think it’s for the best anyway.” She huffs. “He seems better for it and if I lose one more bet on his expense, my jaw may come unhinged,” she says, smiling a perfect grimace.
It would make me a new brand of crazy if I admit I’m falling for a guy after several dates, I’m more cautious than that, but I can’t deny it. I shrug.
Morganna laughs. “Let’s go get them. I have to get back to my office. Phillipe is probably downing purple pills as we speak. Sometimes I feel like no one does what I want them to,” Morganna says. I have work to get done, too.
“If you want something done,” I muse. She brushes me off.
“I know, I know…do it myself,” she says. “I can’t hold the whole world on my fucking shoulders though.” She laughs a little at her own expense. And it’s in moments like these that I see the old Morganna. The person who would laugh at how serious and mean she’s become.
She leads me down a corridor on the opposite side of the house. I haven’t been on this side. Or upstairs. There are a ton of rooms that need exploring. Naked explorations come to mind. Morganna prattles on about a case she’s working on and how Stone is giving her a hard time about working too much. The subject of my affections for Maverick has fallen off her radar all together. Broaching the subject isn’t in my best interest, so I nix my questions about therules. Morganna pushes open a heavy door and we walk into the garage.
It looks like a full on, very organized mechanic’s shop in here. Two full garage bays are devoted to tools and random pieces of equipment that I can’t name. Maverick and Stone are standing together talking, their voices low. Their conversation stops completely when we get within earshot. It’s obvious they weren’t doing anything in here, just talking. Maverick smiles. Stone, still exuberant, just stares at me with a creepy gleam in his eye.
“I’m going back to work. Drive me please,” Morganna commands in a sweet voice. I’m not sure why I keep my distance, but I do. It’s not like Morganna and Stone don’t know what we’ve been doing here in his house. Where women don’t go. They know. I want to hug him and kiss him because he’s standing there, in the middle of heavy machinery. I feel like I’m on display. The freak at the sideshow. The one Thomas Maverick Hart let in. They say their goodbyes and with a swift clap on Mav’s back Stone is gone.
Morganna goes to leave, then pauses mid-step. “Rule number one. Don’t forget your pants,” she says. Being Morg, she leaves before I can ask what the hell that is supposed to mean. I shoot a puzzled glare at Maverick. He hikes his shoulders.
“Seriously. You come with rules?” I ask, mortified. His life is different, way different than the average person, but can I really be expected to follow rules? That could be the only possible explanation for Morganna’s statement. Michelle Obama can’t wear shorts. Windsor Forbes has to wear pants. It is ludicrous.
He laughs a rumble of low laughter as he approaches me. He grabs both sides of my face while he traces my lips with both of his thumbs. “No rules. Never any rules with us. Okay?” he says.
“How can I argue with her? I didn’t have on any pants!” I answer.
“With good reason. Stone won’t be making any more surprise visits. I made sure of that. Morganna probably made up a set of damn rules herself,” Maverick says, closing the space between us, trying to reassure me.
Shivers shoot down my spine. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of his touch. It seems silly to want something so badly that you’ve lived your entire without, yet there it is. Now I’m wondering how I’ll go without it. He seems to be thinking the same thing. He replaces his thumbs with his mouth and kisses me passionately. His hands slide down to rest on the curve at the bottom of my spine.
“Plus, if they were rules forme, number one would be that youneverwear any pants,” he says against my lips. “Or anything else for that matter.”
