Page 108 of Maverick

I hesitate for a moment before nodding, removing my hands from my calf. Maverick carefully wraps his large, warm hands around my leg, his touch sending shivers up my spine despite the pain. He begins to massage, his strong fingers working out the knots in my muscles.

My hands instinctively brace on his bare shoulders, and my fingers press into his warm, firm skin. The closeness of our bodies, the intimacy of his touch - it's testing every bit of my self control. I focus on my breathing, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in my belly. Slowly, thanks to those big hands of his smoothing down my leg, the muscle relaxes.

"It's... it's better now," I manage to say after a few moments, my voice sounding breathier than I intended.

Maverick looks up at me, his dark eyes intense and worried in the dim light. "I thought I would be sore, but not like this," I explain. "I was looking for some ibuprofen."

He nods, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. His body brushes against mine as he reaches past me to a high shelf,pulling down a bottle of pills. The brief contact leaves my skin tingling.

As he watches me move stiffly, taking the bottle from him, he says, "You need a massage." His eyes widen slightly, as if he's surprised by his own words. "I'm the perfect man to give it to you. To do it. To massage you, I mean." He stumbles over his words, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

I consider his offer, acutely aware of the ache in my muscles and the electricity crackling between us. Also, sexy thoughts. But he's right. I know he's right. The ibuprofen isn't going to cut it.

"Okay. Give me a massage."

Maverick's eyes darken at my words, and I feel a rush of heat course through my body. This is such a bad idea. Am I going to be smart and go back to my room instead?

No way.

He gently takes my hand, leading me to the living room. Every point of contact between us feels charged like I might burst into flames at any moment. He stops next to the couch, looking undecided, then with a careful look at me, pulls me to his bedroom instead.

Danger, danger. This way lies…ruinheaven.

I follow him in, and he pushes the door closed behind us, and clears his throat. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," I breathe. Actually it's more of an exhale. But I don't want any doubts in anyone's mind tonight. "Yes. It's okay."

"Lie down on the bed," he instructs, his voice low and husky.

I comply, settling onto my stomach at the end of the bed. The blanket and top sheet are in a puddle on the floor, and I wonder if he was tossing and turning like I was, or if he threw them off when he heard me in the kitchen.

The white sheets are cool and crisp against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Maverick as he kneels beside me. I turn my head to watch him, my breath catching ashis hands hover over my back. The moonlight filtering through the window casts a soft glow on his features, accentuating the concentration in his eyes.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his fingers just barely grazing my skin through my thin tank top. His voice is low, almost a whisper, as if he's afraid to break the spell of the moment.

I nod, not trusting my voice. As his hands make contact with my back, I have to bite back a moan that's part attraction and part pain. And both of them are totally okay. His touch is firm but gentle, working out the knots in my muscles with practiced ease. I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. The tension I didn't even realize I was holding begins to melt away under his skilled fingers.

Maverick's hands move lower, kneading the tight muscles of my lower back. My body responds to his touch, arching slightly into his hands. I hear his breath hitch, and when I open my eyes, I find him staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart race.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach for the hem of my tank top and slither it off, over my head, discarding it on the floor. My bare breasts are pressed into his sheets, the tight nipples beaded against the silky texture. The cool air hits the bare skin of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. Maverick's eyes widen slightly, darting along my skin, but his hands return to my back with slower, more intimate strokes.

Maverick's strong hands work their way across every inch of my back, from my shoulders down to the waistband of my shorts. I'm swimming in sensation, each touch sending sparks of electricity through my body. The room fades away until there's nothing left but the feel of his hands on my skin and the sound of our mingled breathing.

All in my feelings, imagining all the things I'm ready for him to do, the light stroke across my soles surprises the hell out ofme. Immediately, I'm squirming with laughter. Maverick takes full advantage, holding me tightly as he tickles. It should feel playful and silly, and it does, but it also sends lighting right to the lady bits, which is confusing but also kind of awesome.

Also awesome? His low rolling chuckles.

But as his hands begin to slide up my legs, his laughter fades, and air between us grows thick again. His touch is firm yet gentle, working out the knots in my calves like he's the masseuse for the Olympic rugby team. I bite my lip, trying to stifle a moan as he kneads a particularly tight spot.

So fucking good.

Slowly, achingly slowly, his hands move higher. The muscles in my thighs quiver under his touch, a mix of relief and something more intense. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers reach the hem of my short pajama shorts.

And then he stops.

The room falls silent except for the sound of Maverick's heavy breathing. My heart pounds in my chest, so loud I'm sure he must hear it. I hold perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell has fallen over us.

His hands rest just below the edge of my shorts, warm against my skin. I'm acutely aware of how close they are, of how easy it would be for him to slide them just a little higher. The anticipation is almost unbearable.

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