Page 101 of Reckless Hearts

He arches over her forehead, resting into her back, taking long, deep breaths as he slowly gains control. Several moments pass before he groans and lifts off us and walks out of the room.

Callie doesn’t notice, lost in her own little world of bliss. She shows no signs of movement as I lift my hips slightly and tug the pillow out from under me and shift my way up the bed to rest against the headboard. With a firm grip on her waist, I bring her with me. Maverick walks back in, holding two bottles of water, and places them on the nightstand, along with two wet cloths. He holds one out to me. It’s warm but not hot, like he tookthe time to set the perfect temperature. He takes extra care as he slides it down through her legs. She makes a muffled sound but doesn’t protest, just snuggles in deeper to me. Once she’s clean, he helps me roll her to my side, where I keep her tucked against me with an arm wrapped around her waist. I swallow hard, seeing the mess I made of her stomach, coated in my cum. If I didn’t know it was about to turn sticky, I would keep her like that. A little disappointed, I wipe it off, then move on to myself. Maverick takes my dirty towel from me and hands me an open bottle of water.

Warmth flushes through me, contracting my chest, where there is a dull ache. It’s hard to process exactly what I’m feeling right now.

Content.

Happy.

Right.

Callie’s eyes peel open as I lift her face, and she takes delicate sips of the water. There’s a smile in her eyes as she hums, then returns to snuggle into my side. The water feels good on my raw throat. Mav’s pulling on his clothes as I finish the rest of the water. It’s late, but I don’t ask him where he’s going. There’s a tug in my chest as the door closes behind him.

I move Callie and lower her onto the bed, resting my chin on top of her head.

What the hell am I doing?

Chapter 34

Maverick

The clock glows2:14 a.m.

The room’s quiet except for the occasional hum of the fridge.

I shift on the creaky mattress, trying to find a position that doesn’t ache.

Colt mumbles something.

I freeze, ears straining, and catch the end of it—just a whisper.

“Thought you hated me.”

It’s so soft I almost think I imagined it.

He shifts again, deeper into sleep, his breathing evening out.

I stare at the ceiling, throat tight, then pull myself out of bed, needing fresh air. The door clicks behind me, and my breath whooshes out. My hands shake slightly as I grip the balcony railing for support. The metal bites into my palms, grounding me when everything else feels like it’s sliding out from under me. My racing heart pounds in my ears as I sort through my thoughts. I wanted him. When his blue eyes looked up at mine through his dark lashes, I fucking wanted him as much as I wanted her. And that realization scares the shit out of me.

I’d been turned on when we kissed, but this was something more. Like the lock broke on a box that I have buried deep inside of me, and all of those wants, needs, and feelings came rushing out. My fingers tighten over the railing until they turn white as I process what just happened. Callie warm and clutching around my cock, her tight ass gripping my finger. Colt moaning every time I fuck her. The realization that he felt pleasure with each roll of my hip, sending my mind reeling. I listened to both of them, chasing every breath, every tremor, wanting to see how much I could push it, how much pleasure I could draw from them. I wanted the moment to be seared into them until it couldn’t possibly be replaced.

The second I came, the post-nut clarity hit me hard.

I could have been totally misreading this entire situation. Of course he was fucking turned on. He was grinding against Callie. That doesn’t mean he wants to have sex with me. It definitely doesn’t mean he wants more.

I groan, dropping my head to the railing. “I am such a fucking idiot. What the hell am I thinking?”

But no matter what I do, I keep coming around to the fact that I wanted it, and now, I want more.

I want her moans and whimpers, but I want his too.

“Fuck.” I rake my hand through my hair, gripping the ends, and look up at the sky. I am so fucking screwed.

I take deep inhales, the cool night breeze bringing thoughts of fall with it. I’m running out of time. Time to convince Callie to stay. Time to fix this thing between Colt and me.

I’m done fucking ignoring it. Done letting this anger between us fester. I’m not giving up until we sort this through, facing it head-on. But I need to take it slow. If I pressure him too hard, he’s just going to push back. But I’m done letting him be silent.

I thought stepping on the podium and taking the buckle for Rookie of the Year would taste sweet, but instead, it was hollow.

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