Page 91 of Savage Hearts

For once, I didn’t feel like I needed to be on guard with him around, and that was stupid of me.

That was exactly what he wanted.

For me to relax enough before he attacked.

I got the last bite, and Maverick stood and took the plate out of the room. I watched him disappear, trying to get my bearings.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now, and I wasn’t sure if he was coming back… or if I wanted him to come back.

This small dilemma I found myself in seemed silly, however, when moments later, Maverick came back into the room.

Gone was the black suit he’d worn earlier in the day. Instead, he now had on a simple black T-shirt that fit him well andshowcased all the ink on his arms in the best possible way, along with dark gray sweatpants.

There should be nothing sexy about the way he dressed so casually, yet my mouth went dry at the very sight of him. After a long moment of neither of us speaking, I realized that I hadn’t been breathing.

I took a deep breath, bringing back that arrogant smirk of his.

There was no denying that Maverick was…appealingin a very sexual way, and the arrogant bastard knew it, too.

He sat down next to me on the bed—so close, our thighs touched.

I shifted slightly away, but Maverick was a big man, and what was more, he seemed to suck up all the energy around him.

I didn’t think there was a distance great enough that I could put between us that would be adequate.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

He shot me a mischievous look. “Whatever you want to do.”

I shot him a scathing one back. “Not that.”

“Don’t you want to?” he asked, his voice lowering seductively.

I shook my head, looking away from him and trying to hide just how much he could affect me with his words alone.

And I grudgingly admitted to myself that it wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I didn’t think I could.

I was still too sensitive, a little sore, and a whole lot vulnerable.

I didn’t want to be naked in front of him right now, with all those things raging inside of me.

I shook my head.

He seemed to understand, because there was a sort of softness in his gaze that I had never seen on him before.

Whatever space I had put between us was quickly eaten up by him. I held still when he reached forward and tucked a strand of my hair away from my face.

He ran his hand down my cheek, stopping when his thumb came up to my lips. He pressed it against the bottom one, and I felt it all the way down to the pit of my stomach.

There wasn’t a fluttering of a butterfly, but a harsh tumble of hordes among hordes of wasps buzzing about, making themselves at home inside me.

“Tell me something,” he said.

I had to bite off the urge to say anything. To agree to anything he asked, as long as he kept on touching me.

He had a way about him that made me want to confess all my deepest, darkest secrets.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I tilted my head to the side.

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