Chapter 14 Maverick
maverick
. . .
“Don’t do anything disgusting while I’m gone.”
Amelia screeches at me as she leaves for the tattoo studio.
I chose to stay behind at her apartment.
Maggie wanted to have a phone call in about ten minutes, and I felt like being alone.
Running both hands through my hair, my elbows rest on my knees as I lean forward, staring blankly at the muted television screen across the room. The only thing louder than the silence is the pulse pounding in my ears and the ache settling low in my gut.
Every damn part of me is tense, tight, and screaming for her.
I glance down at the obvious strain in my sweatpants, my cock hardening with each second she lingers in my mind.
I close my eyes and let the images come freely—her dark hair slightly damp, skin still flushed from the hot shower she took, and her oversized T-shirt clinging to her curves in all the right places.
Shifting lower on the couch, I let my head fall back against the cushion as I slide a hand beneath the waistband of my sweats.
My fingers wrap around my cock, already thick and throbbing with the need to feel something.
I stroke slowly at first, trying to focus, trying to hold onto the way she bit her lip when she caught me watching her.
The way her body leaned slightly toward mine when she laughed.
That laugh…I’d fucking kill to hear it again.
Stroking myself to the thought of her, the pressure already tightens in my core as my other hand drags across my abdomen, my fingertips brushing over the faint trail of hair leading down my abs. I picture her mouth kissing up my abs slowly, until she meets my lips.
I imagine the way her pretty pink lips would look parted around my cock, her green eyes hooded and lashes fluttering as she sank lower, taking me in.
A groan slips from my throat.
Speeding up the motion, my cock leaks with precum, the friction nearly perfect, but not enough.
It’s never enough when all I want is her. I want the weight of her bare thighs over my hips. I want to hear her breath hitch when I sink inside her. I know she’d try to fight it, to pretend it didn’t wreck her the way I know it would.
My grip tightens around my shaft as the thought spins out of control—Amelia flushed, her voice hoarse, calling my name like it’s the only thing she remembers. I imagine her hands fisting my shirt, her head thrown back as I fuck her slowly, making her feel every inch of how gone I am for her.
“Fuck,” I grit out through my teeth.
The pressure coils tighter, every muscle in my body straining as I chase the release she’s unknowingly been denying me. I picture her smirking beneath me, calling me an idiot, and rolling her eyes, all while begging me not to stop.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I glance over, and it’s my lovely PR agent cockblocking me.
Just like that, I’m not hard anymore.
“Maggie,” I say breathlessly, “I was doing something important, now I’m going to die.”
“Shut up and listen to me.”
Her tone of voice makes me sit up straighter against the couch cushions.
“Let me guess, I’m trending again?”
“No, shocker. But, media outlets are suspecting that your marriage is a sham.”
I let out a breath. “Why the fuck now? We had a wedding in Tennessee, like you asked.”
“Because she lives in Los Angeles, and you live in Tennessee.”
“Okay, and what would you like me to do about that?”
Maggie’s tone is clipped and businesslike. “What I want you to do is make this look believable,” she snaps. “She needs to move in with you in Tennessee as soon as possible.”
I blink, chest still rising and falling, every cell in my body trying to switch gears from fantasy to crisis mode.
“You’re serious?” I manage to ask, already knowing the answer.
She doesn’t bother with pleasantries.
“I’ve got Sports Weekly, TMZ, and two fucking sponsorship reps breathing down my neck about your tattooed wife. So, unless you want this deal to blow up in your face before the season starts, I suggest you get her on a plane and play house like your career depends on it, because it does.”
Before I can even muster a half-assed response, she hangs up.
Well, fuck me.
I glance over at Rex, who’s sitting in his cat tower, staring at me, but this time he doesn’t hiss.
“Well, Rexy poo, pack your bags, you’re moving to Tennessee.”
He flicks his tail and hisses.
I groan, pulling myself upright and tossing the useless blanket off my lap.
My whole body still feels raw and tense.
My mind is racing, already trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to persuade the woman who’s been actively avoiding me—emotionally and physically—to uproot her life and move in with me in rural Tennessee.
Maverick
You done yet? We need to have an important convo
Amelia
I have one more session. Just tell me now.
Maverick
Noppeeeeeee. I know you miss me
Amelia
Clearly. Whatever, see you in eight hours.
It’s been five hours since she left for her all-day, eight-hour tattoo session.
And I’m losing my fucking mind.
Rex has been watching me like he’s waiting for me to mess up. He’s perched on the windowsill, tail flicking. I tried to pet him earlier, but he bit me again. We’re in a toxic relationship, and I think he knows I’m too desperate for his approval to walk away.
To kill time, I’ve already deep-cleaned her kitchen twice, alphabetized her spice rack, and reorganized her fridge.
I color-coded her bookshelf and scrubbed the inside of her microwave because who the fuck heats up marinara sauce without a paper towel?
“Do you even own a vacuum, dollface?” I say, talking to myself as I use her lint roller to attack a dust bunny under the couch.
Eventually, I crash on the couch and FaceTime Carter, hoping for a distraction.
He answers shirtless, covered in sweat and sawdust, standing outside on his porch with a mug of coffee in one hand and a hammer in the other.
“What,” he grunts.
Catalina slides into the frame, looking suspiciously bright-eyed and nosy. Her hair’s in a messy bun, and she’s wrapped in one of Carter’s hoodies.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, “why are you in Amelia’s apartment?”
I blink. “How do you know I’m—”
She points at the screen. “The sage velvet couch, and the red neon ‘Don’t text him’ sign behind you.”
Carter frowns. “Wait, are you in LA?”
I glance at the sign behind me, silently cursing my life. “I mean... technically, yeah.”
“Since when?” Catalina asks suspiciously. “What are you doing there? Is Amelia with you?”
“No,” I quickly lie. “She’s out. Long tattoo session. Eight hours or something.”
Carter squints. “So, you just... flew across the country to hang out in her apartment alone?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “She needed some help. And, y’know... I had free time.”
Catalina makes a noise that sounds a lot like bullshit. “So you just happened to fly to LA?”
I glare at the screen. “She needed help.”
Carter shifts, setting his mug down. “With what?”
“I—”
Catalina cuts me off, narrowing her eyes. “Did something happen? Did you knock her up?”
“WHAT—No!” I yell, sitting upright. “Jesus, Catalina.”
“Then why are you there?” Carter asks, calmly but perceptively. “You’re not exactly known for flying under the radar, and you’ve been off the grid.”
I wave a hand, trying to sound breezy. “It’s nothingggg.”
Carter stills. “Maverick, I swear I’ll beat your ass if you fuck with my wife’s best friend.”
Catalina’s mouth drops open. “Not if I get to him first.”
I groan. “God, I’m hanging up.”
“No! Don’t you-”
I quickly hang up. I’m going to fucking regret that when I see her next.
The screen goes black, and I drag a hand down my face.
Fuck.
The front door clicks open, and I shoot upright.
Amelia steps in, appearing drained, her hair pulled up and her bag slung low on her shoulder. Even though she’s visibly exhausted, she still somehow seems like a walking sin I’d sell my soul to.
She tosses her keys in the dish and eyes me warily. “Why do you look like you just committed a felony?”
I stand up, rubbing my hands together. “Don’t freak out.”
“Great start,” she mutters, kicking her shoes off.
“Maggie called,” I say, “she wants to escalate the image thing.”
Amelia raises a brow. “Define escalate.”
“She wants you to move to Tennessee.”
Silence.
I watch it hit her. It’s subtle, but it lands hard. Her shoulders go stiff as her eyes drop to the floor.
She tries to mask it, but I see the crack in her armor.
“This week,” I add, softer. “She said the sooner, the better.”
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
That’s it. Just okay.
But the look in her eyes isn’t okay. It’s distant. Guarded. Like she just got told to tear out a part of herself and leave it behind.
I step forward. “Look, I know this place matters to you. I get it. But we’ll make Tennessee work. You can fly back, or we can redecorate the guest room however you want. I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
Her mouth lifts slightly, but the smile doesn’t touch her eyes. “It’s just a place,” she says, brushing past me toward the hallway. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Amelia,” I try again, reaching gently for her arm. “Talk to me.”
She pulls away. “I said it’s fine, Maverick. Let it be.”
I watch her walk down the hall and disappear into the bathroom, and the sound of the door clicking shut behind her hits me harder than it should.
I glance around her apartment, taking in the chaos, the mismatched art, and the smell of lemon and ink, and realize it’s more than just a place.
It’s hers.
And now, because of me, she has to leave it behind.