Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Iris
Cheyenne
My heart clenched at the sight of Maverick.
He had that deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes, terror lining his face, making him look somehow both older and younger in the same instant.
Brandy leaned against him, as if she’d been trying to console him, but despite her best attempts, it wasn’t working.
Maverick’s wild gaze settled on me, and he let out an audible sigh.
“Hey,” I soothed, stepping into the room, repeating my last question. “You okay? Did you have a bad dream?”
I let out a soft gasp as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the edge of the bed where he sat.
There was a desperate feel to his touch as he wrapped his arms around me and dipped his head to rest against my stomach.
He didn’t speak, though I didn’t expect him to, but his shoulders shook, his entire body trembled.
Tears pricked in my eyes and I pursed my lips. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t let him see how much this killed me. Knowing that this was because of me.
“Everythin’ alright?” Cash’s voice drew my attention. But not Maverick’s. Maverick remained still, his face burrowed against me.
I shared a look with Cash. Worry knit his brow, causing a frown to curl his lips downward. I offered him a soft shrug, before saying, “I think he had a bad dream.”
Cash blew out a breath, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, and nodded. He regarded me for a long moment before saying, “Will you stay with him?”
I blinked my surprise. Cash obviously knew how to handle Maverick in this sort of situation, he was probably the better one suited for the job, to be honest, but the fact that he knew that and still asked me to take of Maverick said everything.
I nodded. I wouldn’t let him down.
With a final, weary look, Cash stepped back out of the room, closing the door and cutting off the light. Darkness descended over us. Charlie and Ryder’s muffled voices rose in the silence. Not enough for me to make out, though.
What if I somehow set Maverick off? I appreciated the confidence in Cash, but…what if he was wrong to place his trust in me?
Maverick still held me tightly against him, though his shoulders had stopped shaking quite as much.
I ran my fingers through his short hair, reveling in the softness of it as a song fell quietly from my lips.
It was all I could think to do. I couldn’t stand the sound of the silence lingering around us, and it seemed to help earlier.
It’s funny, you always hear about the power of music, and I’d definitely felt its effects on myself before, but witnessing the magic unfold right before my eyes was truly a sight.
Maverick’s trembling stopped first. Then his breathing evened out.
The vice-like grip around my waist loosened as the tension left each of his muscles, until he just held me against him.
His hands began tracing little paths up and down my sides, the gesture soothing.
His palm drifted up over the fabric covering my ribcage, his fingers brushing feather-soft against the bottom of my breast.
I gasped, stilling in his grasp, the song dying in my throat. I couldn’t help it. The moment, the touch, it was so intimate and so unexpected.
Stop it. It was nothing. He didn’t mean to.
“Maverick…” My voice trembled only slightly as I tugged his chin up with a finger. His green eyes clashed with mine and my breath hitched in my throat. The air in the room shifted. His eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine, and not at all the bad kind.
His right hand drifted up from my side to cup the back of my neck, and with a certainty I didn’t expect from him—at least not right in this moment—he pulled my mouth down to his.
I melted into the touch, savoring the feel of his lips against mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed or brutal or filled with wanton need. It was soft, slow, but no less intense.
A sigh left me as I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. All of the tension left me then. Dear God, this felt good. Like really damn good.
A groan of approval rumbled up from his chest, making my knees week as his free hand drifted over the curve of my ass.
He leaned back against the bed, dragging me down with him so that I had to straddle him.
My damp hair fell like a blanket around us, and I lost myself in the feel of his calloused hands scraping against my skin as he dipped a hand beneath my shirt.
I wanted him. Needed him. And from the way he held me, the way he kissed me, I think he needed me too.
Something cold and wet pressed against my side and I let out a yelp, nearly jumping out of my skin. I sat up, still straddling Maverick, my gaze landing on Brandy, who sat beside us, her head tilted to the side in that way of hers.
“Fuck, Brandy!” I hissed, my heart dancing in my ribcage for a completely different reason than a couple seconds ago. “Get off.”
I let out a sigh as she begrudgingly hopped off the bed and aimed for the spot by the armchair once more. Rolling my eyes, I set my sights on Maverick. “I’m sorry.”
A hunger still lingered in his gaze as he reached a hand up to pull me back down to him.
I let him, pressing my mouth to his. There was something so incredibly attractive about the possessiveness in his touch.
I liked this sure, assertive side of Maverick.
His free hand toyed at the hem of my shirt, slipping beneath the fabric so that his fingers feathered up along the side of my ribcage.
I moaned at the touch before flicking my tongue against his as I tried to deepen the kiss… But my mind chose that particular moment to see reason.
Should we be doing this? I mean, I knew everyone dealt with trauma in different ways, but was this going too fast? Would he regret this tomorrow? Lord fucking knows I wouldn’t, but…
“Mav,” I murmured, drawing back to look down at him.
His dark brows knit together in question.
I pressed a soft hand to his chest, right over his heart. And as much as I didn’t want to say it, I managed to ask, “Should we slow down?”
Confusion rippled across his face.
“I’m not sayin’ I wanna,” I reassured, “I absolutely want you. By all means, kiss me, take me, use me, if that’ll help…but I want it to be because you want it. Not because you feel obligated.” I traced my fingers lightly down the side of his face. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
He sat back up, my legs still wrapped around him, and cupped my face in his hands.
One of his thumbs gently stroked back and forth along my jaw as he regarded me in silence.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but even in the dim light I could make out the myriad of emotions swirling plainly in his eyes.
The desire still burned, hot as coals, but something akin to appreciation loomed there as well. He wanted this just as much as I did—there was no doubt now—but I think Brandy’s little cockblocking episode had stolen the moment away.
He pressed a kiss to my lips, whisper-soft, before resting his forehead against my own.
We sat there like that for a long moment, our breathing aligning as we clung to one another.
And then he wrapped me in his arms and drew me down to rest my head among the pillows.
He held me to him, his arms cradling me after he’d pulled the blankets up around us.
His warm breath tickled my neck with each inhale and exhale, but I didn’t mind.
Not as a sense of calm settled around me.
So much had happened today. So many emotions still writhed and clawed for dominance in my chest. I felt the worry and panic and anxiety lingering on the outskirts, looking for the perfect moment to strike. But it never came. Not as my eyes grew heavy and began to flutter closed.
And as sleep descended on me, one thought remained—which should have scared the absolute hell out of me—I could get used to this.