Page 81 of IOU

“I might need two favors,” I mutter against his chest.

“What’s the first one?” He pulls back and I push the cards between us.

Swallowing, I uncap the marker and place a card to his chest. “First, if this is a terrible idea—which it probably is—I need you to not kick me out if I suck, or you don’t want to see my face again. At least not until your guy secures me another place.”

After a moment, I look up to see his nod and notice his jaw clenching hard enough he may crack a tooth.

“Maverick?”

“Fine,” he grits out like it pained him to agree, which is weird. But whatever, Maverick is an odd one. Maybe that’s why I like him so much.

I write the letters IOU, attempting to mimic his serial killer handwriting, and then toss it behind him, hoping it lands somewhere proper, like the trash.

“And the other favor?” he prompts.

“Oh, yeah.”

I meet his gaze and grin. Maybe he’ll lighten up. The moment has become pretty tense.

“You can’t grab my ass.”

He rears back.

“Yeah, after feeling yours I’m a little ashamed. Clearly those few squats I do every year have not done me any favors.”

“No,” he snaps, a tiny, baby hint of a grin forming. “I won’t honor that favor.”

Fine, but I warned him. If he’s disappointed, he’s disappointed.

With that game-ending remark, he plucks the cards from my hand and tosses them behind him where they scatter along the floor. I’ll put them in the trash later.

“Do we need to put up the grocer—” His mouth seals over mine and his tongue pushes in without warning, consuming me in his tight hold.

What was I saying? Right. I don’t care.

Maverick hoists my body up and my legs go around his waist like second nature. We’re on the move, wasting no time finding a solid surface. “Wait!” I cry out. “Not in here! Not on my bed.”

He pauses for just a moment, but then he turns around and heads toward the living room and to the best sofa ever. “We are burning your mattress,” he mutters, setting me down carefully and then yanking my knees apart so he can kneel between them.

Ooh. I kind of like Mr. Lexington on his knees—feels all queen like.

“I want you to show me what you learned from your book,” he drawls all cute and curious while tugging at my skinny jeans.

I’m full-on smiling at his effort to get my jeans off—I plan to pretend like he didn’t mention the whole book thing. “You might need to put some force behind those pulls. These jeans are a little snug.” I’ll admit, I had to jump a few times just to get them on.

With a firm tug, Maverick has my jeans around my ankles in a matter of seconds. “Wow. You’re seriously good at that. Maybe I need a standing favor for when I’ve moved out. I could come over, you could yank off my jeans, and we could eat mac and cheese before I go back home.” I shrug. “It’ll work out for everyone.”

A muscle flexes in his jaw.

Wait. Is he mad? I meant it as a joke. “You know, because you’ll get your privacy back soon when I move and—”

“Shut up.” His words are biting and a tad bit growly. Whoa. What did I say?

“Gotcha,” I try soothing his irritation. “I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “And nervous. I’m totally ruining the moment.”

It’s the truth. I’ve only ever been with Tucker and since he cheated on me, I can’t help but to live with a nagging doubt that I wasn’t good enough somehow.

Finally, a hint of emotion—other than aggravation—flashes on his face. “Since you seem so into talking, why don’t you tell me what you learned from your book since this is the second time I’m asking.” He nods to my open bedroom door where I stashed that blessed book.

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