He strums the strings a few times and then continues fiddling with the knobs. More strumming that already sounds like perfection fills the room. He lays the paper in front of him on the table. Keeping his head down, his eyes flick up to meet mine. Dimples arrive a second later. I squeal. “You’re starting,” I guess. He does.
A haunting guitar solo fills the air. My huge smile fades as I listen to him play. His eyes close as he gets lost in the melody. It’s beautifully simple in pattern, but something bittersweet laces the notes. I find myself leaning toward him, the sensation to comfort him uncontrollable. The muscles of his forearms stretch and flex as he plays. It’s soft, not like bench pressing heavy weights, or carrying big, manly guns. This is a whole new side of Maverick. It’s sensitive. His fingers buzz over the strings with ease and grace.
Then he begins to sing.
His voice is low, soothing, and raspy. It’s freaking hot.
If I asked for forever would you run from right now?
If I gave you a promise would you want to know how?
I need to breathe you inside me til’ I know you can’t leave.
Forever is too long but it’s what feeds my greed.
You twist me in knots, you break me in two.
I want you. You’re everything.
I want you.
I do.
His lips curl around the last words and he looks at me. His gaze steady, questioning.
If I asked you for forever would you run from right now?
My jaw is practically on the floor. His long fingers glide over the strings, repeating the melody from the beginning of the song. I’m glad. It gives me a few seconds to absorb his words, or control my rapid-fire pulse. His song. His gift to me. Maverick looks down to watch his hands work, and I realize he’s giving me time to be alone with my thoughts. His song, my song, says everything I need to hear.
“No,” I say, realizing I have a few tears leaking from my eyes. He looks up, pulls the guitar closer to his body, and slumps over it, his arms dangling over the top. “I won’t run, Mav. I won’t leave,” I clarify.
“Promise me,” he growls. Still with this?
I take a deep breath. “Put the guitar down,” I command.
He props it against a small table. Folding his hands together in his lap, he fixes me with his gaze. I feel my breaths come faster and faster. I fling myself over the coffee table separating us and into his lap. Grabbing his face with both hands, I kiss him quickly once.
“That was for the song. It was seriously perfect,” I admit. Then I kiss him a bit harder. “That’s a promise.” I hug him tightly, fitting myself to him like a puzzle piece. He holds me to him. I pull back and look into his eyes. “Make love to me, Maverick,” I say.
Indecision lights his face. He told me if I begged, he’d cave. I don’t want to beg.
“Because you want to. Not because I beg for you to,” I explain. He stays silent, his eyes drinking in my mouth as I speak. “And because forever isn’t really that long and we’ve wasted too much time already. I want you. Right now. Tomorrow, too. Next year? I’ll want you then as well,” I ramble. The thought comes like a freight train. “Now, you promise me you won’t leave me.” It has to be both ways. My heart is already his.
He shakes his head, disbelieving. Maverick grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head. My heartbeat picks up. This is it. Finally.
My gaze lands on a white bandage on his chest, above his heart. He peels it off to expose an obviously new tattoo. It’s a vertical line of black ink reading 36°40’ N 076°36’ W. I trace it around the edges avoiding the raw skin.
“Now you’re always with me. You can never leave. No matter what,” he says, grabbing my wrist. I glance up to his face. “It’s the exact location I fell in love with you,” he whispers.
The tenderness in his eyes breaks me. A tear slips out of the corner of my eye as I lean in and gently press my lips against his. It’s a salty, tear-laced kiss. He pulls my hand to his chest…his heart, bloody, healing tattoo be damned.
“I promise,” he confesses against my lips.
“Where?” I reply. I want to know when. Let’s be honest, I need to knowexactly whenhe fell in love with me.
“Twelve thousand feet in the air, of course.” Date four. Maverick was in love with me after four measly dates and he’s just telling me now. To say I’m shocked is an understatement.
This tattoo is permanently on his body. I can’t stop starting at it. You get a tattoo when you want something on your body when you’re old and wrinkly. When you want to look at it and remember a certain moment. Maverick picked this moment.
