Page 80 of Reckless Hearts

Maverick’s hands travel up her calves, and a soft moan escapes her lips, licking down my gut. I’ve been trying to think of anything else since she curled into me. Little old ladies, reciting the alphabet backward. The disgusting smell of manure. It’s not fucking helping. My cock’s already half-hard under her ass, and if she keeps moving like that, she’s definitely going to notice.

Maverick’s deft hands aren’t helping, and I’m unable to look away as they move up her thighs. Her chin tips up in response, warm breath panting on the underside of my jaw.

Fuck me. I’m losing it.

She moans again, this time deeper and more desperate. Maverick skims his thumbs under the rough hem of her cutoff shorts; her hips grind into my ass. I groan, my fingers digging into her hips.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” I murmur into her hair, and she rolls her hips into me in response.

Maverick groans as he kisses up her thigh where his hands just left. Thanking God for the sturdiness of Adirondack chairs, I lift her ass, positioning her to give him more access.

I can’t help but watch him, the way his tongue licks her, and his teeth graze her skin, raising goose bumps in their wake. It’s been a week since the locker room, and I’ve been desperately trying to block all thoughts out.

If trying to distract myself during the day wasn’t bad enough, it haunts me at night. I lie awake in the too-small bed, and I swear every molecule of my being is aware of him. The fact that we haven’t been able to change our reservations to double beds this entire time makes this a special form of hell. More than once, I’ve contemplated moving over to the sofa. No matter how uncomfortable it is, it has to be better than lying next to Maverick. But I never do, and neither does he. Something tying me in place, holding me there, that I don’t want to think about.

Watching him drive Callie insane like this. Her body trembling against mine, mixed with the whiskey we’ve been drinking and the cover of night, has my resistance lowering. I’m transfixed on his mouth and the memories of how it felt, the way he gripped me closer. How it felt to be the one in his arms. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. Can’t think about this.

I focus on Callie, who’s reaching back, cupping my neck with one hand, the other raking through Maverick’s hair. She’s perfect like this. Stunning. Seductive.

Everything I ever wanted, needed, craved.

I trail my hands under her shirt, grazing her quivering stomach, and do long strokes from the underside of her breast down to the waistband of her pants. Her hips shift into my touch every time my fingers dip below her panties. But I don’t go deeper. Instead, I draw it out. I want her insane in our arms, losing control. I want her to beg for it. To need it as badly as I do.

She’s got other plans, and a growl escapes my throat when she pulls back from the kiss and stands. I don’t miss the way her chest heaves or the goose bumps that cross her skin. She’s not as unaffected as she’s trying to make it seem.

Maverick leans forward, his hand reaching out to her, a muscle ticking in his neck as she jumps out of his reach.

She tsks, shaking her head. “Not so fast.”

“Fuck.” Maverick drops his head into his hand, groaning, as he rubs it over his face. “You can’t do this to us.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure I can.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief.

“You’re a demon.” I groan.

“Aw, come on. I just want to have some fun.” She says it so innocently you’d never believe she’s in the middle of torturing us.

“What kind of fun, Callie?” Maverick’s voice is dark, low, impatient. Strained, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“I thought we would play a little game.”

“Are you trying to fuckin’ kill me?” I say through gritted teeth.

She tilts her head. “I dare you?—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Maverick says.

“You either play, or no more touching, and I go to bed.” She places a hand on her hip. “Alone.”

She emphasizes the word, and I damn near beg Maverick to cooperate. At this point, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get my hands back on her.

“Hurry” is all he says.

“I dare you.” She draws it out, and it’s almost painful. “to kiss each other.”

She could have slapped me, and it would’ve shocked me less. I whip toward Maverick, who’s already looking at me. I expect to see anger, confusion, shock—anything but the heat that’s darkening his gaze. The way his eyes trail down to my lips has them parting in response. My throat bobs with my swallow. My throat is dry with a different kind of thirst.

I’m not disgusted. I’m not turned off. Instead, my cock’s achingly hard, pushing against my jeans. I’ve hated him so long. Carried that betrayal. But the way he’s watching me and the way I’m responding undermines all of those feelings.

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