Chapter 10
Maverick
Scythe thought that it would be best for me to sleep upstairs rather than intrude on Loreena’s space in the basement.
I sacrificed my right to a bed when I kidnapped her.
I don’t know if it was more punishment or a sense of honor and propriety that drove Scythe to do it, but whatever it is, he didn’t ask Loreena what she wanted.
He just assumed that she wanted to be alone.
Assumed wrongly, because unless Scythe suddenly shrunk and grew soft skin and divine curves in the past few hours, that’s Loreena I can feel crawling onto the scrap of couch behind me, hugging herself in close.
“Is this okay? Friend spooning?”
It’s okay because mercifully, my dick is facing the other direction.
I’m not trying to be a creep, but biology comes on strong when you’ve been celibate for so long.
Thankfully, it’s only drilling into the couch.
Her hands are tucked in against my back.
My whole body tenses, hoping she’ll leave them there while simultaneously wishing with everything that I have that she won’t.
“You can’t sleep?” It seems like the safest question by far.
“Not really. Can you?”
“Not really.”
“It’s because you’re like a jumbo hot dog stuffed into a pretzel stick on this couch.”
The undignified choking sound I make is loud in the quiet house.
I don’t want to think about hot dogs, or how hard my cock is, or anything metaphorically or literally called a wiener, because that only makes me think about how warm she is, how soft her curves are, her breasts pressed against my back, the curve of her legs fit rightly around mine, her hips crushing up against my ass.
Lead pipes. Granite. The color blue… also things I don’t want to think about.
“You should have the bed,” she whispers, her hot breath warming the nape of my neck. It’s unbearably intimate.
Here I am, longing for a woman who told me plainly that she didn’t want me in her life. I know she was just trying to push me away so that I could go out into the world and have a great one while she silently rotted away, forgotten and banished by the world.
Right there in her apartment, I thought, fuck that fairytale nonsense.
I haven’t changed my mind, but she’s not ready to see things like naked longing.
She’s not ready to hear that I fell half in love with her just from her words alone.
I can’t tell her that she saved me, or that she opened up an entirely different world for me.
Without her, I don’t know where I’d be. I don’t want there to be a world without her.
She’ll read it wrong. She’ll hear me wrong.
“I absolutely shouldn’t,” I grind out. The bed. Not a safe topic, but that’s the one we were on.
“I can’t fall asleep in it anyway. It’s hard when you’re not drugged.”
She holds out for a few seconds before she laughs. Jesus, this whole thing is so fucked up. I’m so glad that she has a sense of humor, and that it’s pretty damn dark.
“It was nice of you to check in when you got back, even though it was late.”
“Of course.”
Is this small talk? We’re pressed up against each other so tight that there’s not a hope for a whisper of air between us, in the most intimate position I’ve ever experienced.
I want to lay my soul bare to her, knowing full well how idiotic that would be after truly knowing her for all of two point five seconds.
It’s not a logical argument to tell myself that since we have a history of letters that go back years, and because we’ve been through a kidnapping and back, that could speed anything up.
“How was your night?” Her voice gets even softer. Her hands flex against my back, “You asked about mine, but you never said. Did you get the job? Do you want the job?”
I grit my teeth to trap a groan inside at the fissures of bliss radiating out from her touch. I can’t remember what it is to be wanted. Held. Looked at like someone with a soul. There’s never been anyone who could touch that part of me with just a single graze of soft fingertips.
“It’s not really about wanting it now.”
“I see. I’m sorry.”
Despite the fact that it’s hot up here on the main floor and I’m without a blanket, in my underwear and a t-shirt, sporting the world’s most massive erection, I slowly sit up.
She comes with me, swinging her legs off and jerking upright so that I can get vertical too.
I snatch the throw pillow with the skull on it and jam it over my waist, leaning my elbows on it in a casual pose.
Yeah. Not so fucking casual that she won’t have my number from a mile away, but it’s dark in here. At least that’s a bit of a saving grace.
Not dark enough that I can’t see the way her blue eyes glisten luminously.
I want to cup her face, drag my finger down her cheek, and brush it back into the silky strands of her hair.
I want to rest the pad of my thumb on her lower lip just to hear a sigh spill out of her.
I want to kiss her so damn bad that my whole body aches with it, not just the cock I’m trying to jam into submission with a throw cushion.
“Hey. It wasn’t your choice to do what I did.” I find words and force them out, because that’s the only thing that I can offer right now. “Scythe just wants to keep me out of trouble, and he thinks that being busy and having some purpose will do that.”
“He might not be wrong. Sort of.”
“The work could be worse.” There are many, many things that could be far, far worse than the life I’m living right now.
I do appreciate that. “It’s just online security stuff.
The club likes to keep track of what other clubs are doing, and they monitor for potential threats, while also looking for new business investments.
They’ve taken things legit these past few years, and that comes with unique challenges.
Raiden has a head for numbers. He’s threatened to get me in on the bookwork too.
He used to do all of it, but then he became the VP.
He still does most of it, but he’d like some help.
I’m going to have to grind it out and suck it the fuck up and knuckle it down and whatever other stupid shit people say about that. ”
She sits silent and rigid for a moment before she glides her arms around herself. I’ve never wished for anything in my life—not my freedom, not peace, not stillness in the midst of the most brutal storm that I’d ever experienced—more than I wish I could replace her arms with mine and hold her.
I carried her out to the truck. I memorized the shape of her. My heart already knows her, but my body wants to be stretched out alongside hers again.
“I still think you should take the bed. Or buy one of those inflatable mattresses that could be put away during the day,” she says and points to a spot on the floor, indicating silently that I could just blow up a mattress, shove the coffee table over, and there I’ll have it.
“You’re going to get backache or a cricked neck sleeping like this.
Or not sleeping. Because you’re so uncomfortable. ”
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
I realize how bad that sounds and how wrong it came out when she ducks her head. “Me too,” she whispers, but her voice is heavy, weighed down with strain and guilt.
I hate that, but I know there’s no talking her out of it. I can tell her all the words in the world. I could fucking write them all, but I can’t make her believe them.
“Are you nervous about meeting with that therapist?” It’s not what I want to say, but I don’t want to sit here and be a dumbass, completely immune to her feelings.
He’s coming tomorrow, and aside from the other thousand things she’s had to get used to in a very short amount of time, she’s probably more than a little bit apprehensive about it.
“Nervous isn’t really the right word.” She clutches her hands in her lap.
“It’s a massive oversimplification,” I admit. I hug onto that cushion for dear fucking life. My dick isn’t going to lay down and behave anytime soon.
“Can I tell you something? The way I would have written it?”
The way her voice trembles is a punch to the gut. “You could write it if you want.” I move to reach the lamp on the coffee table in the corner by the couch, but she shakes her head, and I plop back down.
“No. I- it’s just so much harder to say some things, but that’s not a good reason not to do it.”
“It’s harder to say things because there’s no looking it over and taking it back after. You can’t undo it, or change your mind and write something else.”
She bows her head and leans forward. She looks so lost that I want to take her into my arms. I want to protect her, reassure her, fight all her battles.
That’s not the right thing to do. There’s only so much that can fit into a twenty-four hour period, and I’ve gone way the hell over the limit.
She’s overwhelmed. Me adding my physical presence to that won’t make it better.
She’d tell me that she needs to learn how to be strong for herself, and she’s absolutely right about that.
Still. Wanting to comfort her, wanting to be near her, wanting to fight for her, and just plain wanting her, is a hard thing to stop.
“Hey.” I reach out like I’m going to tip her chin up, but I stop when her head snaps up. I quickly drop my hand back down to clutching the throw pillow. “You can tell me anything. Nothing will shock me.”
She doesn’t even shoot me an accusatory look that says, after this day, I should say not.
She just blinks and lets out a shuddering sigh. “I’m scared that if Lockwood can’t help me, this is my last chance.” One look at my face and she starts trying to reel that right back in. “See, I knew I should have written it.”