Chapter 35
35
CADENCE
I stumble through the door, giggling as Maverick helps Nan inside. The evening's festivities have left us all happy and full, and Nan looks ready to collapse into bed. After the pie came fruit. Then after the fruit came the booze and cards. There was yelling and laughter, and yelling. Did I mention the yelling?
My ears are still ringing.
"You boys sure know how to party," Nan says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time. But I'm beat, and that whiskey's gone to my head." She presses a kiss to my cheek, then one to Maverick's. "Be good," she calls over her shoulder. "Or don't. You're grown adults."
Once we hear Nan's door click shut, Maverick and I find ourselves alone in the kitchen. The air suddenly feels charged with electricity. I lean against the counter, trying to appear casual despite the butterflies in my stomach.
"How's your head?" I ask, reaching out to gently touch the spot where he bumped it on the table earlier. "Are you sure you don't need to go to the doctor?"
Maverick catches my hand, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. "I'm fine, Cady. I promise. I've had worse bumps. A lot worse."
His touch sends shivers down my spine, and I struggle to focus on his words. "Today was... something else," I manage to say.
"You were incredible," Maverick murmurs, stepping closer. His arms come to rest on either side of me, effectively caging me in. Not that I'm complaining. "The way you handled Becca? You're a badass."
I laugh, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. "It's been a while since I've sparred like that. I'm probably going to be sore tomorrow."
Maverick's eyes darken with interest. "I'd love to hear more about how you got those skills. What was it like growing up with a cop for a grandpa?"
As I start to tell him about Grandpa's self-defense lessons and the obstacle courses he'd set up in the backyard, Maverick begins a distraction campaign. His lips brush against my jaw, feather-light kisses that make my skin tingle. When he moves to my eyelids, I lose my train of thought entirely.
"Mav," I breathe, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders.
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes burning with desire. "Yeah?"
Instead of answering, I surge forward, capturing his lips with mine. The kiss is passionate, urgent, filled with all the pent-up tension that's been building between us. Maverick's hands slide down to my waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me onto the counter.
So fucking sexy.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer as our kisses grow more heated. My fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans softly against my lips. The sound sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I arch into him, wanting - needing - to be closer. There is nothing better than having your partner moan for you. And Maverick's deep, sexy moan is the best.
Maverick's mouth leaves mine, trailing hot kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I tilt my head back, giving him better access as he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin there. A soft moan escapes me, and I feel him smile against my throat. "Hush now Cadence," he says against my skin. "We don't want to wake up Nan."
Nan? Nan who?
His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. Maverick obliges, quickly unbuttoning it and shrugging it off. What an accommodating man.
I run my hands over his chest, marveling at the feel of his taut muscles beneath my fingertips. Our lips meet again in one of those I want to be inside you kisses, tongues tangling as we explore each other. I hook my ankles behind his back, drawing him even closer, pressing him right where I want him. The friction between us is delicious, and I instinctively roll my hips, eliciting a deep groan from Maverick.
Right as he's about to make me very happy by slipping his hand under the hem of my shirt, we hear a door open down the hall. We spring apart, both of us breathing heavily. Maverick looks pained, his eyes still dark with desire. Me too. I want nothing more than to yank him back to me and watch him pull my front closure bra off with his teeth, but we stay apart, the moment shattered by the interruption.
My heart is racing, my cheeks are hot, and there's an ache deep at my core that is begging to be stroked. Maverick takes a deep breath, clearly trying to regain his composure. The tension stretches between us, thick and achy.
"I should..." Maverick starts, his voice husky. He clears his throat. "I should probably head to bed."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As he turns to leave, it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to call him back, to beg him to stay. At this point, I don't even care that Nan's right down the hall. She loves to embarrass me about talk of her and Grandpa's sexual escapades, so why shouldn't I get mine?
Actually, scratch that. Knowing Nan, she'd want to give us tips.
So creepy.
God, everything is so big with him. There's no pastel, soft feelings, only bold, primary ones. It's not just physical attraction - though that's certainly part of it. It's the way he makes me laugh, how he supports me by taking over, then apologizing after. Maybe that should be a turn off, but it really isn't. I have to make too many decisions in my life, and shoulder a lot of responsibility. Having someone ready and willing to shoulder some of that burden is…amazing.
I slide off the counter on shaky legs, pressing a hand to my still-racing heart. Tonight was a close call, and part of me wonders what would have happened if Nan hadn't interrupted.
No. I don't wonder. I know. There's no way I would have stopped what was about to happen. All I want to do is follow him to his room, and continue what we started. It's only Nan's footsteps and a light cough that stop me.
With a sigh, I head to my own room, knowing sleep won't come easily tonight. My lips still tingle from Maverick's kisses, every inch of my skin is sensitized.
It's going to be a long night.
"Fuck, fuck fuck," I mutter, pushing off the bed a few hours later. I am so fucked. Everything hurts. "Great idea Cady. You had to go and be a showoff, and now look at you." I shuffle to the bathroom, hunting for the ibuprofen I could have sworn I put there, and of course I can't find it.
I try to lie back down, attempting to stretch my legs, but a sharp pain shoots down my thigh. Groaning, I try to massage it out. Sparring was a mistake. A fun one, yeah, but still a mistake. Who did I think I was, back spin kicking and generally acting like I train every day. Stupid. Now I'm paying for it.
Massaging relieves the cramp, but all my muscles still ache, so I give up and slowly get out of bed, creeping toward the kitchen. It's been a couple of years since I did any workout like the one I did today. It felt good. It felt great, actually, in the moment. But sweet Baby Jesus, I'm paying for it now.
The kitchen is dark, and I squint as I turn on the little light over the stove. Where is that fucking Ibuprophen. It was a Costco sized bottle. It shouldn't be that hard to find. A pained sound escapes me as I go on my tiptoes to check the highest shelf, my calves burning with the effort.
"Cadence," Maverick's deep voice comes from behind me, startling me.
“Jesus. Fuck.” I turn to find him standing there in only his boxer briefs, his sculpted chest and abs on full display. So freaking yummy. His brow is furrowed with concern.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm good," I lie, giving him a smile that feels a lot more like a grimace, then attempt to drag my sorry ass back to my room. I only make it a step or two before my calf seizes up in an agonizing cramp. I lean down, grabbing it with a moan. "I lied. I'm so not good. I'm terrible. I'm old and decrepit. Just knock me over the head with Nan's rolling pin and put me out of my misery."
Maverick rushes to my side, dropping to his knees in front of me. "Fuck Cady. Please," he begs, his hands hovering near my leg. "Let me help." I look down at him, my breath catching in my throat. The sight of Maverick on his knees, his muscular frame coiled with concern, sends a jolt of electricity through me.
Just looking at him makes me feel better. His boxer briefs cling to his thighs, abs flexing as he leans into me. The air between us feels charged, and for a moment, I forget about the pain in my calf. My heart races, and I have to remind myself to breathe. It's hard to focus on anything but the fact that the most handsome man on the planet is mostly naked and kneeling in front of me.
And all I can think about is how badly I want him to hook his fingers in the waistband of my sleep shorts and yank them down.
Then I want him to do dirty, dirty things to me.
"Cadence. Please,"
Please what? Take my shorts off and lick me top to bottom? Another spasm goes through my calf and my sexy thoughts take a backseat to the pain.
I hesitate for a moment before nodding, removing my hands from my calf. Maverick carefully wraps his large, warm hands around my leg, his touch sending shivers up my spine despite the pain. He begins to massage, his strong fingers working out the knots in my muscles.
My hands instinctively brace on his bare shoulders, and my fingers press into his warm, firm skin. The closeness of our bodies, the intimacy of his touch - it's testing every bit of my self control. I focus on my breathing, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in my belly. Slowly, thanks to those big hands of his smoothing down my leg, the muscle relaxes.
"It's... it's better now," I manage to say after a few moments, my voice sounding breathier than I intended.
Maverick looks up at me, his dark eyes intense and worried in the dim light. "I thought I would be sore, but not like this," I explain. "I was looking for some ibuprofen."
He nods, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. His body brushes against mine as he reaches past me to a high shelf, pulling down a bottle of pills. The brief contact leaves my skin tingling.
As he watches me move stiffly, taking the bottle from him, he says, "You need a massage." His eyes widen slightly, as if he's surprised by his own words. "I'm the perfect man to give it to you. To do it. To massage you, I mean." He stumbles over his words, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
I consider his offer, acutely aware of the ache in my muscles and the electricity crackling between us. Also, sexy thoughts. But he's right. I know he's right. The ibuprofen isn't going to cut it.
"Okay. Give me a massage."
Maverick's eyes darken at my words, and I feel a rush of heat course through my body. This is such a bad idea. Am I going to be smart and go back to my room instead?
No way.
He gently takes my hand, leading me to the living room. Every point of contact between us feels charged like I might burst into flames at any moment. He stops next to the couch, looking undecided, then with a careful look at me, pulls me to his bedroom instead.
Danger, danger. This way lies… ruin heaven.
I follow him in, and he pushes the door closed behind us, and clears his throat. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah," I breathe. Actually it's more of an exhale. But I don't want any doubts in anyone's mind tonight. "Yes. It's okay."
"Lie down on the bed," he instructs, his voice low and husky.
I comply, settling onto my stomach at the end of the bed. The blanket and top sheet are in a puddle on the floor, and I wonder if he was tossing and turning like I was, or if he threw them off when he heard me in the kitchen.
The white sheets are cool and crisp against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Maverick as he kneels beside me. I turn my head to watch him, my breath catching as his hands hover over my back. The moonlight filtering through the window casts a soft glow on his features, accentuating the concentration in his eyes.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his fingers just barely grazing my skin through my thin tank top. His voice is low, almost a whisper, as if he's afraid to break the spell of the moment.
I nod, not trusting my voice. As his hands make contact with my back, I have to bite back a moan that's part attraction and part pain. And both of them are totally okay. His touch is firm but gentle, working out the knots in my muscles with practiced ease. I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. The tension I didn't even realize I was holding begins to melt away under his skilled fingers.
Maverick's hands move lower, kneading the tight muscles of my lower back. My body responds to his touch, arching slightly into his hands. I hear his breath hitch, and when I open my eyes, I find him staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart race.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach for the hem of my tank top and slither it off, over my head, discarding it on the floor. My bare breasts are pressed into his sheets, the tight nipples beaded against the silky texture. The cool air hits the bare skin of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. Maverick's eyes widen slightly, darting along my skin, but his hands return to my back with slower, more intimate strokes.
Maverick's strong hands work their way across every inch of my back, from my shoulders down to the waistband of my shorts. I'm swimming in sensation, each touch sending sparks of electricity through my body. The room fades away until there's nothing left but the feel of his hands on my skin and the sound of our mingled breathing.
All in my feelings, imagining all the things I'm ready for him to do, the light stroke across my soles surprises the hell out of me. Immediately, I'm squirming with laughter. Maverick takes full advantage, holding me tightly as he tickles. It should feel playful and silly, and it does, but it also sends lighting right to the lady bits, which is confusing but also kind of awesome.
Also awesome? His low rolling chuckles.
But as his hands begin to slide up my legs, his laughter fades, and air between us grows thick again. His touch is firm yet gentle, working out the knots in my calves like he's the masseuse for the Olympic rugby team. I bite my lip, trying to stifle a moan as he kneads a particularly tight spot.
So fucking good.
Slowly, achingly slowly, his hands move higher. The muscles in my thighs quiver under his touch, a mix of relief and something more intense. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers reach the hem of my short pajama shorts.
And then he stops.
The room falls silent except for the sound of Maverick's heavy breathing. My heart pounds in my chest, so loud I'm sure he must hear it. I hold perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell has fallen over us.
His hands rest just below the edge of my shorts, warm against my skin. I'm acutely aware of how close they are, of how easy it would be for him to slide them just a little higher. The anticipation is almost unbearable.
I turn my head slightly, catching a glimpse of Maverick's face in the dim light. His eyes are dark, intense, fixed on where his hands meet my skin. He swallows hard, throat bobbing.
"Cady," he murmurs, his voice rough with barely contained desire.
We're on the precipice of something big.
And I am so here for it.
I roll onto my side, facing him, arm covering my breasts. He crouches lower until our faces are inches apart, our breath mingling. The air between us is thick with tension, every nerve in my body screaming for his touch.
Maverick's hand comes to rest on my hip, his thumb tracing small circles on the exposed skin of my side. There's nothing simple about the touch. It sends sparks of electricity through my body, and a small gasp escapes me.
We're teetering on the edge of something profound, both of us acutely aware of how easy it would be to give in to the desire that's been building between us for weeks. Maverick's eyes flick down to my lips, then back up to meet my gaze, silently asking for permission.
"Don't stop," I whisper.