Chapter 28 Amelia
amelia
. . .
Maverick’s boots thump across the hardwood, each step dragging a bad mood behind it.
I tilt my head just in time to see him drop his gym bag near the wall, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.
“You look tired,” I say, scratching behind Rex’s ears.
His blue eyes flick to me, and for a moment, I think I see relief, but then it disappears. “Rough day.”
“You okay?”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he pulls off his hoodie, drapes it over the back of the couch, and heads into the kitchen. The cupboard doors open and close, and the fridge hums as he opens it.
I set Rex down and follow him, leaning against the counter while he fills a glass of water. “Wanna talk about it?”
He takes a long drink, then sets the glass down more forcefully than necessary.
“It’s just… Maggie, the media, and the apology I had to make.
Feels like everyone’s watching, waiting for me to fuck up.
And—” He stops, clenching his fists against the countertop.
“And, I know I dragged you into this, but I hate that it’s touching you.
I hate that you’re in this spotlight because of me. ”
My chest tightens. “You think I can’t handle it?”
His gaze snaps to mine, sharp and unwavering. “I think you shouldn’t have to.”
I move slowly through the kitchen, lifting my hands to cradle his face.
He leans down, instinctively pushing his face into my hands, and shuts his eyes, letting out a long breath, and my heart aches at the sight of him hurting.
“You’re carrying too much, Mav. You can’t protect me from every crappy headline or comment. ”
His eyes soften, even as they shine with something unspoken. “I still want to try.”
“Mav-” I start, but I don’t get another word.
“Don’t,” he says, softer than his body looks. He pulls back from my touch, running a hand through his hair, blowing out a harsh breath. “I’m done talking tonight. About Maggie, about Jax, about all of it.”
His arms sweep me up, cradling me against his chest. My breath catches, and my hands instinctively grasp his shoulders as he carries me bridal-style up the stairs.
“Maverick,” I whisper, though it’s half a warning, half a plea.
He looks down at me, the muscle in his jaw twitching, but his mouth curves into that dangerous, heart-wrecking grin. “Relax, dollface. Not planning on dropping you.”
Heat rushes through me, my pulse racing, but I don’t argue. I let him carry me into his room and gently set me down on his bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he climbs in beside me, rolling onto his back, broad shoulders sinking into the pillows.
He looks at me, raw and unguarded, his blue eyes meeting mine as if he’s baring his soul. His voice lowers, coarse with exhaustion and need.
“Make me forget about today, Amelia,” he murmurs. “Make me feel something. Please.”
The plea guts me. This man, bigger than life, is begging me.
I swallow hard, my fingers trembling as they trace the hem of his shirt. “Bossy today, aren’t we?”
He smirks, though it’s softer now. “Only when I know I’ve already won.” His hand finds mine, guiding it up over the plane of his abs. “C’mon, dollface. You know you wanna.”
My hand drags higher across his chest, over the ridges of muscle beneath his black compression shirt.
Maverick looks at me as if I’m the only thing in the room, like I’m the only thing that has ever mattered.
“Careful,” he drawls, his lips curving as his hand trails to my thigh. His thumb strokes lazily over bare skin, setting me on fire. “You keep touching me like that, I might start thinkin’ you actually like me.”
I arch a brow, trying to appear unbothered even though my pulse is wrecking me. “Like is a strong word.”
He grins like he can’t help himself. “Then fuck ‘like.’ I adore you. I crave you. I’d tattoo your name across my forehead if it’d make you believe me.”
I suck in a breath at his confession.
His hand slides higher, toward the edge of my shorts, and I take a breath.
His breath comes in harsh pants, hands shaking where they toy with the hem of my shorts. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me? I’m ruined, Amelia. Begging like a fool just to get my hands under these damn shorts. Tell me I can. Please.”
I bite my lower lip, tilting my chin up at him. “Permission granted, quarterback, just don’t stop looking at me while you do.”
My fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, brushing the hard lines of his stomach. He lets out a low groan, head tipping back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut.
“Fuck,” he says, almost like a laugh. “Take it off, dollface. Before I lose my mind.”
I grip the hem and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Then I just... stare. His tattoos, the broken clock inked on his outer bicep, the script curling across his ribs, the way his chest rises and falls under my gaze.
His smile is softer now, less cocky, more dangerous. “See somethin’ you like?”
“You talk too much,” I whisper, leaning in to shut him up with my mouth.
The kiss is slow at first, his lips parting under mine like he’s letting me take the lead. His hands cradle my hips, sliding me up to straddle him. The pressure of his cock beneath me makes my stomach clench, heat pooling low and fast.
He groans against my mouth, hips jerking up into me. “Fuck, baby. Keep movin’ like that and I’m done for.”
I smirk against his lips, rolling my hips again to hear that desperate sound tear out of him. “Thought quarterbacks had stamina.”
His laugh is broken, rough. “You’ll be the death of me. Best way to go out, though.”
His hands slide under my shirt, lifting it up, fingers grazing every inch of skin as if he’s memorizing it. When he pulls it over my head, his eyes turn molten, blue fading to dark.
“Fuck, Amelia.” He grabs my tits and squeezes, as his thumbs brush over the piercing beneath the lace of my bra. “You’re perfect. You hear me? Perfect.”
My throat tightens, his words hitting somewhere it shouldn’t. I kiss him again to hide it, harder this time, my tongue tangling with his. He moans into my mouth, rolling his hips up to meet mine.
Every movement is fire, every sound is unraveling me. My walls, my armor, all the sharp edges I’ve kept for years, he’s burning through them with nothing but touch and truth.
And for once, I don’t want to stop him.
His mouth is hot and insistent against mine, as his hands slide up my back as if he can’t touch enough of me at once. He shifts beneath me, rolling his hips until I’m gasping into his kiss, my body grinding down on him without thought.
“Fuck,” he groans, pulling back just enough to breathe, his lips brushing my jaw. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me, Amelia. Every damn time.”
I bite my lip, pretending I’m unaffected even though my body’s already betraying me. “Pretty sure that’s just biology.”
He laughs, but it’s broken. His hands grip my hips tighter, pulling me against his thick, hard length straining in his shorts. “Biology doesn’t make me dream about you every night. Doesn’t make me wake up hard, wishing it was your mouth, your cunt, anything, just you.”
His blunt honesty makes my chest seize; heat rushes through me so fast that I can barely breathe.
His blue gaze finds mine, darker than I’ve ever seen it. “Sit on my face, dollface. Please. I’ll spend all night there if you let me.”
I freeze, every muscle in my body tightening. No one’s ever asked me that before, no one’s ever begged.
He grins at my expression, cocky but desperate, like he’s half-gone already. “C’mon, dollface, sit on my face, pretty please.”
A laugh bursts out of me, shaky and sharp. “Really?”
“Yeah, baby.” His voice is wrecked as he flips us in one fluid move, pressing me into the mattress with his weight. His mouth drags fire down my throat, every kiss a demand. “Let me taste you. Suffocate me between your thighs, I don’t fucking care—I need your pussy on my tongue.”
My heart stutters. My legs part without me even thinking about it, his hand sliding between them as his fingers brush over the front of my shorts. I suck in a sharp breath, arching into his touch.
He looks down at me then, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, expression raw. “Let me worship you, Amelia.” He says, trailing kisses down my jaw. “Let me make you forget everything but me.”
His hand slips under the waistband of my shorts, his fingers teasing and brushing over soaked lace. I gasp, clutching his shoulders as my nails dig into his inked skin.
“Fuck, you’re wet already,” he groans, dragging the pad of his finger along the damp seam. His eyes flick to mine, wicked and reverent all at once. “For me, huh? Say it, Amelia. Tell me this is for me.”
I bite back a sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You really like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”
His grin is wrecked, dangerous. “I like hearing you.”
Before I can fire back, he’s tugging my shorts and panties down in one smooth pull, tossing them aside. I’m bare under his gaze, heat crawling up my neck, but he looks at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
“Fuck, look at you,” he whispers, settling lower, his huge hands spreading my thighs apart. He presses his mouth to the inside of my knee, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses down my thigh. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
A whimper tears out of me when his lips hover over where I’m aching, so close I can feel the heat of him.
“Sit on my face,” he rasps again, gripping my hips, hauling me up toward him with shocking strength, until I’m straddling his chest, his shoulders wedged beneath my thighs. “C’mon, dollface. Let me drown in you.”
My body shudders, instinct screaming to retreat, but his blue eyes fix me in place, burning with need and something that’s almost devotion.
And then, without a word, he grabs hold of my ass and pulls me onto his mouth, his tongue tracing, licking, worshipping every inch of my clit.