Page 4 of You Owe Me

“You’re lucky we keep your ass around with all that bossiness.”

And we’re now having the most ridiculous conversation on the planet. “Pops called,” I interject after a beat, changing the subject.

That gets her attention.

“How is he?”

“Better. The new meds are working. He says he wants to come to graduation.”

What I don’t say is that we argued for twenty damn minutes about the firm. About how the guy he hired to “help me focus on school” has been bleeding the accounts dry and tanking three years of work I built with my own hands while juggling a full course load… sort of.

“Woo-hoo! That’s great news, Mav!” She slams her book shut. “Does that mean Cooper will come, too? I haven’t seen him since baseball tryouts last spring.”

I nod, noticing how her oversized T-shirt has slid off her shoulder. “Most likely, if Pops is able.”

I can’t stop staring at that singular bare shoulder.

Leaning back in the chair, I cross my arms. “You planning on studying anymore or just waiting for me to get bored and drag you to bed?”

Her eyes are mischievous and daring. “Depends. How bored are you now?”

I smirk, slow and lethal. “Dangerously.”

She doesn’t respond. Not even with a blink. She just lets that one bare shoulder stay there, taunting me, waiting for me to snap.

And I do.

One second, I’m leaning back in the chair. Next, I’m out of it, across the balcony, and yanking her textbook off her lap.

“Mav—” she starts, eyes wide as I drop the book onto the deck with a thud.

“You’re done with the cortisol,” I growl, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to her feet.

Her lips part, but before she can say anything, I throw her over my shoulder like a fireman with zero patience and one goal.

“Maverick!” Laughing, she beats a soft fist against my back. “Put me down!”

“Oh, I’m going to put you down all right.” My voice is low and hard, rough. “Right under my cock.”

She chokes on a laugh. “You promise?”

And this is why she has over a thousand IOUs on her bedside table.

I stride inside, making it halfway through the apartment before she taunts me again. “Don’t get shy on me now, Mav.”

I slap her ass. Hard. “Shy is not in my vocabulary.”

Her breath hitches, and that’s all I need.

I toss her onto the couch like a prize. She scrambles to her knees, hair falling wild around her face, shirt hanging off one shoulder like a half-kept promise. “So, this is what losing a kickball game gets me?”

“No,” I say, climbing over her, my hands bracketing her thighs, caging her in. “This is what happens when you mouth off in front of people who don’t know I’m already dangerously close to ruining you.”

“Ruining me?” she echoes, all mockery and breathlessness.

I grab her chin and tilt it up.

She bites her lip. “Go ahead, ruin me.”

---