Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
But he didn’t do that. He’s giving me space in a world where most people take.
A hot lump lodges in my throat. I slide my hand over the doorframe, curl my fingers around the edge, and breathe. Just once. Deep and slow. Letting it sink in.
He’s not trying to own me.
He’s trying to honor me.
I hesitate only for a short second before pushing the door open all the way. I walk inside, then follow his voice into his office. He’s there, standing at his big black modern desk, holding a bottle of green juice, hair messy, expression irritated—until he sees me.
Everything inside me softens like goo. I am a puddle of mush, heart beating outside of my chest.
I give him a little wave and step inside.
“I’m hanging up,” he tells the person on the other line. “We’ll discuss this some other time.” He exhales, setting his phone on the desk, giving me his undivided attention.
I might be a damn fool, but I say it—the big, dumb, terrifying truth stumbling out of my mouth:
“I love you, Maverick.”
His entire body stills.
Then—
“Say it again.”
“I think I lo—”
He crosses the room in three strides, wraps his arms around me, and kisses me like a man who’s been dying of thirst and just found water. It’s everything that’s been building—longing, relief, panic, possibility—all crashing together in one breathless, desperate, grounding kiss.
My hands slide into his hair. His grip tightens around my waist. I swear I can feel his heart hammering in sync with mine, like our bodies are trying to memorize the rhythm of us before it’s too late.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
His voice is low, hoarse. “You love me?”
We already said it when we were at the lake, but we were drunk, so does it count? I want to say it again in a way neither of us will forget.
“I do. I think I’ve been falling since the time you splashed me with cold lake water because you’re a flirt.”
I press my lips to his again.
This one says I’m not going anywhere even though he did not say the words back.
This one says this isn’t temporary.
When we break again, he cups my face in both hands and murmurs, “What now?”
For the first time since this wild ride started, I don’t feel lost.
I know exactly what I want.
“We go all in,” I whisper. “For real.”
Chapter 30
Maverick
“All in?” I can do that.
I can do her.
Her back’s against the edge of my desk, eyes wide, lips parted. My hand slides around her waist as I lift her, setting her on top of everything—my laptop, some unopened mail, an empty protein bar wrapper. Contracts. Proposals. A folder labeled Performance Metrics that’s about to become very ironic.
None of it matters now.
She matters.
She came back.
She loves me.
Annabelle fucking loves me.
I kiss her. Hard. Hungry. A little unhinged? I feel like I’ve been holding back, and I don’t want to anymore. Not with her.
She kisses me back like she’s starving for it—pulling me closer, fingers in my hair, mouth open and eager and hot enough to melt all my good intentions into a puddle on the floor.
She tugs my shirt. I tug hers. It’s damp and sweaty—and kind of gross if I’m being honest—so I yank it over her head and toss it toward the door instead of letting it marinate next to us on the floor. It lands halfway across the room, where it belongs.
Her laugh is breathless—light, giddy, wrecked—and it only fuels the ache already coiled tight inside my chest. “You didn’t like that shirt?” she says as I lower her against the desk.
“I like you better out of it.”
Her fingers are impatient, tugging my shirt free, pushing, pulling, until it’s gone too. Somewhere behind her, something clatters off the desk and falls to the floor with a thunk.
Neither of us gives a crap.
I kiss down the slope of her shoulder. The crook of her neck. Her fingers thread through my hair again, pulling, guiding, demanding, then gripping my dick in her hand and stroking it.
“You’ve been driving me crazy.” Hard as a fucking rock, I groan against her throat. “Since day one.”
She moans softly. “Good.”
God help us.
It’s all heat and skin and breath—her mouth at my jaw, her fingers at my back, my hands locked on her hips like they were carved just for me. The desk creaks under us, loud enough to make her laugh, and I swear it’s the most perfect fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
Every brush of her mouth says I’m here. Every slide of her palm says I want this too.
Pretty Annabelle . . .
Finally naked.
Thumb on her clit, I move it in small circles, priming her. Take my dick and line it up with her entrance . . . slide into her slick heat.
So sexy that she’s carrying my baby.