40. Maisy
40
MAISY
I fall asleep on the drive back to Walford, my mind and body numb after the onslaught of adrenaline. Jensen carries me into Pam’s house and lays me on the bed. They have a hushed conversation, but I’m too drained to care about what they’re saying.
He kisses my temple and whispers, “Come home to me when you’re ready.”
I roll over and let the exhaustion take me under again. When I wake hours later, the bedroom is pitch black. My fear of the dark grips me for a moment until I remember where I am. I feel around the bed and let out a sigh when my fingers connect with my cell phone. The screen gives off enough light to see and confirms I slept through dinner, the clock showing it’s just after midnight.
Thinking back on the events of the day and the conversation with my father, I find I’m, oddly, at peace. I got the answers to questions I’ve asked myself since I walked away from him years ago. Our interaction further strengthens my resolve to do the same to Vera.
I’m ready to rid myself of the uncertainties in my life—in my past—leaving room for the certainties. And there are four things I know for certain.
I want to succeed in my career.
My parents don’t deserve me.
My friends accept me for who I am, unconditionally.
Jensen Holloway is my home. Not a house or a town or any physical place. Him.
All the times he pleaded for me to come home to him, he knew this truth. So did I, even though I denied it. After the day I’ve had—hell, the months I’ve had—there’s no place I’d rather be than with him.
Satisfied with the denim shorts and tank top I’ve worn all day, I brush my teeth, throw my hair up, and tug on a pair of sneakers with no laces. The hot, sticky air clings to me as I walk the two blocks to Main Street. The lampposts glow on the empty sidewalks, and all the businesses have closed for the night.
Beyond the darkened bar area inside Bruno’s, light shines from Jensen’s office. Relieved he hasn’t gone home yet, I pound a fist on the glass door. He steps into the hallway and, realizing it’s my face pressed to the glass, rushes over and unlocks it.
“What happened?” he asks, eyes sweeping over me for signs of damage or distress.
I jump, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, and he catches me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything,” I murmur against his throat. “For being you. For loving me. For today.”
The lock clicks, then we’re moving. “I’ll always hold you up when you need support,” he says.
“I know you will.” A pause, then we laugh because he’s literally carrying me right now.
In his office, he sets me on the desk and rests his hands on either side of my hips. “Today was a lot.”
I heave a sigh. “It was, but I got closure I didn’t know I needed.”
“Are you okay?” He grazes my jaw with a knuckle, and I lean into his touch, relish it.
With a nod, I say, “Strangely, I am. It must’ve been the scream.”
His devilish grin appears. “I hear screaming is good for the soul.”
“Stop.” I chuckle with a halfhearted shove to his chest. Sliding my hands to his shoulders, I toy with the hair touching his neck. “Seriously, I’m glad you were with me today. I couldn’t have faced him alone. And I’m sorry for threatening to leave. I panicked.”
He studies me, the intensity of his gaze searing my brain. “Are you really okay?”
“I really am.”
“Then what made you come here tonight?”
Cramming down my discomfort with expressing my feelings, I swallow thickly and confess, “You asked me to come home to you. Here I am.”
“Birdie.” My whispered name breaks apart on his lips. Then he’s grabbing my face and claiming me with a kiss so passionate and consuming, my eyes fill with tears. The kiss goes on and on, and I’m comforted by the thought of it never ending. When we come up for air, he asks through panting breaths, “What happens now?”
Equally breathless, I say, “We move forward. I sever ties with Vera. You withdraw from the mayor’s race. After that, you’ll sling cocktails, I’ll make people feel pretty, and we’ll live happily ever after.”
When he closes his eyes and drops his brow to mine, a gust of relief fans my face. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”
To lighten the mood, I say, “More perfect than me being naked on this desk?”
His head jerks back, and desire darkens his gaze. “Watch it, birdie. No one’s around to hear you scream again.”
Leaning back on my hands, I spread my legs wider. “So make me scream, Mr. Holloway.”
Within minutes, I’m naked on his desk while he ruts into me, the only sounds our harsh grunts and his belt buckle knocking against the wood surface with each thrust.
He sucks on my nipples, gripping my ass to keep me from sliding across the desk because my hands are busy tugging his hair, eliciting endless groans of pleasure from him as we approach climax.
“I won’t last,” he pants. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last and you haven’t come.” Slipping a hand between us, he rubs feverishly at my clit, desperate for me to finish before him, always putting my needs first.
Though I’d love to reach that blissful pinnacle of pleasure, I have another plan. When he bucks his hips faster, a sign of his imminent orgasm, I yank his hair hard enough to wrench his head back. A strangled noise catches in his throat. His muscles tighten. He rears back while driving his hips forward, and a deep, bellowing roar accompanies his release.
My spine curves from the power of his final thrust. Before I can reclaim the breath he stole from me, he collapses on top of me, crushing me under his full weight.
“Shit. What was that?” he asks, gulping air into his lungs.
Wheezing, I croak, “Who’s the screamer now?”
Tatum shimmies her shoulders, excited about dance night at Bruno’s.
“Be still,” I say. Stabbing a pregnant lady in the eye with a mascara wand, though accidental, seems like a not nice thing to do.
“I haven’t danced in months,” she says.
“It’s been years for me.” Lucy leans against the wall in Tatum’s bathroom, looking sexy and ready to go with a high sleek ponytail and a tight red dress that ends just below her butt. Her smoky eye makeup and dark red lips are flawless, if I do say so myself. “Rock doesn’t know how to behave himself at a club,” she says.
“He dances?” Surprise pushes my freshly sculpted eyebrows high on my forehead.
The three of us spent yesterday at a spa in Austin getting massaged, plucked, and waxed before shopping for our outfits for tonight. Jensen tried to be sneaky and sent Lucy enough money to cover all of my spending without telling me it was from him, but she spilled the beans right away. Normally, I’d balk at the idea of being a kept woman, but I freaking blushed while Tatum and Lucy cooed over his gesture.
“ Pfft . Hell no,” Lucy says, chuckling. “You’ll see what happens when Rock gets on a dance floor.”
“Sounds intriguing.” Tatum adjusts her pink sequined dress when she stands from the vanity bench. Her dress isn’t as short as Lucy’s, but it’s just as tight and shows off her pregnant belly. “Should we be concerned?”
Lucy smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischievousness. Something tells me Rock’s possessiveness will be put to the test, and he’ll be hauling her out of the bar over his shoulder before the night ends. They’re certainly the most entertaining couple I’ve ever met.
“The only person we should be concerned about is Jensen when he sees Maisy in this outfit,” she teases.
My short, gold halter dress is backless and has a plunging neckline that reveals ample cleavage. With my curls piled on my head, I’m showing a lot of skin. Maybe too much. Add the sparkly stiletto heels that make me four inches taller, and I feel like a bombshell, ready to flaunt what I own.
Capping my tube of signature lipstick, Murdered Merlot , I smack my lips and say, “Let’s do this, ladies.”
The moment we walk through the door, Jensen’s piercing gaze caresses every inch of me. From behind the bar, he eyes me while filling a pint glass with beer, and I can imagine all the scenarios happening in his mind. I toss him a cheeky wink—a promise for later—earning a smile from him.
I’m impressed by the transformation of Bruno’s. The staff went all out to make the bar feel like a club. Low lighting with colorful strobes, tables moved aside to make more space for dancing, a DJ’s bass beats vibrating off the walls. Tatum must be in heaven.
When Rock and Jake appear, she grabs Jake by the hand and drags him to the dance floor. The rest of us follow and lose ourselves in the music. Jake and Tatum bop around with big grins on their faces despite his lack of rhythm. She loves to dance, and he loves her, so he’ll happily go along with whatever her heart desires.
Rock promised to give Lucy some space to enjoy herself, so he stands within three feet of her at all times. On occasion, she uses him as a stripper pole, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too busy glaring daggers at every man within a ten- foot perimeter while Lucy drops, dips, and grinds against his statuesque form.
I’m content dancing alone, pushing away from a couple of brave souls who come up behind me. Jensen and I steal glances at one another, and I bite back a smile when I picture him abandoning his post to dance. I’d pay money to watch him swivel his hips while fully dressed.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to find Peyton Riggs, of all people, smiling down at me. I haven’t seen him—or thought about him—since high school. He made himself scarce after Jensen pinned him to a locker and threatened his life.
“I heard you were back in town,” Peyton says, loud enough for his voice to carry over the music.
“For a minute,” I say, my lips curving into a coy smile.
He leans in closer. “How many seconds of that minute are you willing to spend on me?” Gag.
Faking a giggle, I peek at Jensen, who’s watching us with a blank expression on his face, though his eyes blaze. It’s not jealousy in his penetrating stare; it’s protectiveness. He remembers the game Peyton tried to play with me.
Embarking on my own game of revenge, I spin to face Peyton and say, “How about a dance? That’s more than I’d give anyone else.”
He grins, broad and victorious, certain this night will end in his favor. It won’t. He twirls me around and grabs my waist, gyrating his hips while spouting nonsense in my ear like, “How is it possible you’re sexier now than you were in high school,” and “I notice you don’t have a ring on your finger. Lucky me.” It’s cute how he thinks he stands a chance.
I allow him to regale me with his sloppy dance moves and lame pickup lines. When I roll my eyes at his comment about my “banging body,” they connect with Jensen’s. One corner of his mouth quirks up, amused by the show I’m putting on for him.
Having reached my limit with Peyton’s boorish commentary, I rise on my tiptoes and put my lips next to his ear, lowering my voice to a seductive purr. “Thanks for the entertainment. I love a man who makes me laugh, and it’s good to know you’re still a joke.” I pat his chest and walk away, pleased with the baffled, yet annoyed, expression on his face.
I’m not surprised to find Jensen leaning against the wall when I exit the ladies’ room. However, I am surprised when he walks me backward into his office and shuts the door without turning on any lights, cloaking us in darkness. He spins me so I’m facing the door and cages me in with my back to his chest.
“Did you have fun toying with me, birdie?” he whispers, ghosting his lips along my ear.
“I always enjoy teasing you.”
“Were you trying to make me jealous?”
The answer is no , but I can’t resist asking, “Did it work?”
“Not at all. Because I know something Peyton doesn’t know.” He lightly trails his hands down my waist, showering me with sparks, and squeezes my ass. “These sinful curves belong to me.” He cups me firmly between my legs, a finger stroking me through my panties. “This perfect pussy belongs to me.” The other hand glides to my chest and settles over my left breast, his pinky brushing my nipple. “This fierce, beating heart has always belonged to me.”
I tremble, my panting breaths coming faster as I sag against the door in a helpless heap of desire. He slides the hand on my breast upward and wraps it around my throat like an anchor holding me in place. I reward him with a needy whimper.
His low, satisfied chuckle vibrates through me, intensifying my shudder as he continues stroking my slit. “Have fun dancing with your friends. Tempt all the men with this unholy dress. Because when we get home, I’m tearing it from your body and laying you on the table like a feast of the finest cuisine. Prepare yourself for a long night ahead, birdie. Your man is quite famished.”
Holy. Hot. Damn.