Well, if I continue now, I’ll be going on forever. Stop while you’re ahead. Live life when someone offers you the opportunity. That’s the gist of it, really.
Now, with only a night’s rest separating us from real life, I’m still not sure how to wrap my head around everything I’ve experienced. And it’s not just the places, but the man himself who leaves me in awe.
Maverick wasn’t just cruel, he was the cruelest. A broken man, a damaged soul, flaunting the body of a God while being no more or less human than the rest of us.
We’re back in our hotel room now, our suitcases pushed to the side in preparation for tomorrow’s flight. The rest of the room is bare, void of the smattering of our belongings it had held only a few hours prior. The tidiness makes my stomach tighten, knowing that reality is closer than I want it to be. The suitcases seem to be of the same mind. Even they look like they’re dreading their return to reality.
Maverick and I have polished off the pizza he ordered to the room. Pepperoni for me. Hawaiian for him. Even with our plates empty, neither of us have left our spot at the small table in the corner of our hotel room.
I trace a finger over the bottle of wine at the center of the table, pushing the droplets of water down with my thumb. They fall slowly, their journey accented by the glint of moonlight sliding in through the slightly parted curtain. When the last drop of water has pooled onto the table, I glance up at Maverick, to see that he’s looking right at me… staring. Taking me in like I’m the most intriguing painting in a museum.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I say.
He presses his lips together then blows out a breath that causes the lock of hair dangling out of place on his forehead to flutter. “You’re beautiful.” He says it so simply, so easily, that I have no choice but to believe that that’s all there is to that look in his eyes. That he’s been sitting across from me for the past five minutes, just thinking about the way I look. That he’s really and truly is enamored by me. We’ve come a long way from all of our yesterdays. And even though logic says that I should be careful, everything about this moment says it’s okay to let go.
“We’ll be home soon,” I tell him. It’s not attempt to change the subject, but rather me voicing what it is that’s plaguing my own mind.
“You’re like really, really, beautiful.”
The goosebumps on my skin prick harder. My heart flutters. My cheeks deepen their tone of red. I press the wine glass to my lips and take a small sip in an attempt to hide the effect his words have on me. It’s my second sip of the night. I’ve never been one to break the rules when it comes to underage drinking. But Maverick made me a promise that I’d have a glass of wine if he promised to have a real conversation about his mom and his feelings and maybe even consider seeing a therapist. For the time being, we were to drop the matter and just enjoy this time away from reality and all the problems reality houses. And so, here I am, sipping on a glass of wine, watching the man of my nightmares transform more and more into the man of my dreams.
“Maverick,” I whisper.
“Like, really, really, really, beautiful.” He pushes his chair back and with two long strides, joins me at the other side of the table. His hands find my hair and ever so carefully, he pushes the locks over one shoulder. It’s a simple action, except it doesn’t feel quite as simple. It feels like he’s doing so much more than that. Like he’s pushing away any walls that might still be guarding my heart.
Maverick is on his knees now, moving closer to me. So close that I can feel his breath on my neck. So close that his lips tease the spot just under my jaw. And then his lips are traveling lower, trailing kisses up and down my neck. I lean back, my breath unstable in my chest as goosebumps spread all over my body.
We’ve had lost of sex in the past few days. Taken the bed and the shower, the balcony and the elevator by a storm. All of it was great. None of it felt like what’s about to happen now.
“So beautiful,” Maverick whispers. He’s moved a little bit higher now, so that his words are said right against my ear – the very ear that’s now caught between his teeth. Teeth that feel like they’re coated in lava. “You’ve always been beautiful. And happy. I like that about you. It’s the very thing I used to hate so much about you. That deep down, you’re just…happy.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Hating someone for their happiness might just be the saddest thing in the world. Saying it out loud might just be the bravest thing he’s ever done.
Maverick twirls his tongue inside my ear and my thoughts are pulled back from wherever they’d intended on going. I’m in the moment once again. Swallowing hard. Breathing short. Gripping the edge of my seat so hard that I’m about to cut the leather with my nails.
“I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, Beth.”
The lump in my throat grows bigger, clogged up by a hint of disappointment. I want him to fuck me. More than anything, I want to feel him between my thighs, feel him deep inside of me. I want to ride every wave of ecstasy like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.
Maverick is breathing against me the way that he is and it’s stirring everything inside of me. I’m dripping with arousal now, my desire for him burning in my chest and my center…in every single part of me. So strong. So intense. I’m not even standing up and I can already feel the weakness in my knees. My heart rattles against my ribcage.
“Tonight,” Maverick whispers. His hand is on my back now and he’s spinning me around so that I’m facing him. “Tonight, I’m going to make love to you.”
With those words, he completely disarms me. The rattle in my heart turns into something so much stronger. My eyes meet his, so open and honest that he could see right through to my soul if he wanted to.
In no time, I’m in his arms, being lifted onto the massive king-sized bed, feeling smaller and larger than life all at the same time.
Maverick settles himself at the bottom of the bed, reaching his hands up to slip my black, lace panties past my thighs, knees and over my ankles. Instead of tossing them off the bed, he pulls them to his face and presses the material to his nose, breathing it in…deeply, like he’s trying to imprint my scent in his nostrils. A small smile passes his lips, solemn in the way it slowly stretches to crease his cheeks. When he opens his eyes once again, I see fire – the fire of passion, the fire of need, the fire of us.
Instead of tossing my underwear to the side, Maverick bunches it together and sticks it into the pocket of his jeans. “I think I’ll hold onto this.”
I don’t ask him what he intends on doing with my underwear.
I don’t care.
In fact, I care about very little right now.
My eyes are on him the entire time, watching as he pushes closer, as he lowers himself so that he’s face to face with my center. With rough hands, but smooth motions, he guides my legs up and away, lowering himself even more with each movement. Lowering himself until his lips are against my sex. Long strokes guide over my center, again and again, causing me to clench hard, to grip the sheets, to suffocate the moans that so desperately want to rip me to threads.
Maverick works me like that for a while before closing his lips over my clit and sucking gently, rhythmically. The build-up is strong, unsettling, unstabling. I hold onto him. First his shoulders and then his hair, my fingers trying and failing to find a grip.