29. Mckenna
Mav’s mouth slides along my neck, and I arch into him, desperate to feel his hands on my skin. I run my fingers through his hair, clutching at the base of his neck, as I turn my head.
His lips find mine, and our kiss is hard. It brims with desire and overflows with want. His hands grip my hips and pull me up against his frame as his chest pins me to the mattress.
We come together wildly. Months of pent-up heat and weeks of frustration detonate as I arch into him. I link my legs around Mav’s waist, tugging him against my body. Our tongues coax each other into submission as our limbs wrestle for control.
Our recklessness softens. Our heat simmers.
I’m so tired of pushing him away. Of trying to shut this down when I crave it. I don’t want to deny myself—or him—of this any longer. For months, Mav has showed up for me in ways no man ever has. And tonight, right now, he’s everything I want.
My hands track up the hard muscles of his abdomen and chest until I can remove his shirt. His fingers are nimble as they pull down the zipper of my dress. He peels it off and discards it on the floor.
Leaning back, he drinks me in and whistles low. “Fuck, you’re too damn much.”
“Mav,” I whimper, nearly coming undone by the look in his eyes.
It’s more than lust. It’s awe. Genuine, uncensored, and raw.
God, he makes me feel things I’ve never experienced before. How could I pretend friendship would be enough? How could I lie to myself?
“Never gonna deserve you, Mckenna.” His voice is a low growl.
“Please,” I murmur, wanting to feel the heat of his skin pressed against me once more.
I clutch at his shoulders, and he comes willingly. I work his slacks down his legs and reach for him, my eyes widening at his impressive length. I want to run my fingers over his shaft, feel him harden even more against my palm, but he swats my hand away.
Instead, he tears my panties at my hip. They fall away in a crumple of lace. Mav’s mouth is hot as it travels down the center of my body. His tongue dips into my belly button, and I giggle.
He looks up, the seriousness in his gaze fading as pure amusement fills his irises. Then, his tongue parts my center, and I call out, swearing.
Mav’s hands palm my breasts, and I’m grateful I ditched a strapless bra for the evening. It would have been futile; one more distraction. One more layer between all that Mav promises and me.
His thumbs roll over my nipples as his tongue laps at my core, slow and lazy. My hips buck once, and Mav grunts.
“Gonna give you what you want, baby,” he promises.
Then, he sucks on my clit as two fingers enter me.
“Yes,” I moan, my eyes closing. Jesus, how long has it been?
So many months. Too long.
And it’s never been this good. I’ve never felt this comfortable. At ease. Mentally connected to the moment.
No, I normally go somewhere else. My mind travels to distant places while my body moves. I keep those memories—that night—locked in a box.
For a heartbeat, they come back to life.
Branson’s snarl, his narrowed eyes. The weight of his body as it covered mine. Can’t breathe; can’t move.
I buck again, and Mav looks up sharply. Whatever he reads in my expression has him sliding up my frame, his hands brushing my hair away from my face.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Need you,” I beg. Make me forget. Make me feel. Make me whole.
“Fuck, beauty,” Mav swears. He deftly rolls on a condom. His fingers slip between my thighs again, and all thoughts of Branson are banished.
As they should be.
Instead, the sound of my arousal ripples through the air. A shudder works through my body, the beginning of an orgasm building.
“Right there,” I murmur.
“Wanna see you come. Want you to shatter while you ride me,” Mav declares. He positions himself between my legs. “Look at me, Mckenna.”
My eyes snap open. Mav holds my gaze, blue to navy, as he pushes inside me. And fuck, he’s massive. Rock hard and velvet smooth.
“Maverick,” I moan.
He grins and rolls us so I’m on top, straddling him.
“Ride me, beauty,” he commands, one hand grabbing a handful of my ass. “Show me how you like it.”
Fuck, his words turn me on. The control he gives me fills my lungs with air. My body relaxes, and I begin to grind on top of him. As I slide up and down, I lean forward and brace one hand in the center of Mav’s chest. His hand covers mine, trapping my fingers against the steadiness of his heartbeat.
My eyes flash to his, and he holds my gaze. His expression is open. Genuine. Hot and centered, and fuck, he’s everything.
At this moment, Maverick Tate flips my world upside down.
Pressure builds, and I increase the pace, the sound of my ass hitting the tops of his thighs turning me on as much as Mav’s encouragement.
“Fuck, you feel so good, Mckenna,” he murmurs, his fingers grasping the ends of my hair. He sits up halfway and latches onto my right breast, drawing my pebbled nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue.
“Ahh,” I whimper, feeling it between my legs. “Mav,” I moan, the intensity growing. Everything in my body tightens, and then, Mav reaches between us and presses his thumb to my clit. I implode.
Waves of pleasure, intense and infinite, move through my body.
“Maverick,” I cry again.
“Damn, Mckenna; I got you,” he promises, thrusting up into me, hard and fast, four times before growling my name.
Mav bands his arms against my lower back and hugs me as he falls back on the mattress, bringing me with him, his tongue swiping against my nipple.
I shudder, little convulsions still flickering through my limbs. He’s still inside me, and my inner walls clench around him, not wanting this moment to end.
Does it need to end?
“Mav,” I whisper.
Instead of pulling out, he clasps my face between his hands and kisses me. It’s a hard kiss but filled with gratitude.
“That was incredible, Mckenna. You’re fucking everything.” His voice is guttural. Husky with the truth.
“Mav,” I repeat, rolling onto my side.
We lay beside each other, our eyes searching, our noses nearly touching. We’re joined in every way that matters, and a calmness washes over me. Right now, I’m at peace. Whole.
And I don’t ever want tonight to end. If there’s anything I’ve learned from Mav, it’s about leaning into the moment. Embracing the experience.
The now is so beautiful and fragile, and tonight, I’m wholly present in it.
“Want to do something wild?” I whisper against his mouth.
I feel his smile against my lips. His fingers trail down the center of my back and rest against the swell of my ass. “Wilder than this?” he murmurs.
I nod. What I have in mind is the craziest, most brazen thought I’ve ever had.
But I want it. With him. Right now.
Always.
Peace. Whole. Home .
“Do I have to move?” Mav wonders.
I giggle. “Unfortunately.”
“Can we do this again?” he asks.
“Afterwards,” I promise.
“Okay,” he agrees. He slides out of me, and I instantly feel the loss. I want him back. Between my thighs, in this bed, always by my side.
I move up onto my elbows and watch as Mav goes to the bathroom to clean up. The naked outline of his body is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I don’t know if it’s the lust, the alcohol buzzing in my head, or the life-changing moment we just shared, but a resolve settles in my chest.
I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and stand. “Whoa.” I toss out a hand and knock over the bedside lamp before finding the wall. “Shit.” I’m wobbly as hell.
I step forward, and wince as a shard of the lamp stabs my big toe.
“Mckenna?” Mav’s head pops out of the bathroom door.
I wave away his concern. “I broke a lamp.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and then he laughs. The sound is big and boisterous and…fucking hilarious.
Falling back to the mattress, I clutch my stomach as the insanity of the moment catches up to me. I roll onto my side and laugh with him. My cheeks ache, and tears pinch the corners of my eyes.
“I broke the fucking lamp,” I repeat.
Mav stands beside the bed and gently pulls me up. Looking into my eyes, he sighs reverently. “Fuck, I love you, Mckenna.”
His words rock through me. I grin, happier than I’ve felt in years. “Say it again, Maverick.”
“I fucking love you,” he repeats, holding my face and looking into my eyes.
“You’re too good for me,” I tell him.
He tosses his head back and laughs again. “I never knew you to be this funny.”
“I’ll keep you on your toes,” I promise.
“I’m counting on it.” He helps me stand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Yes. We’ve got somewhere to be.” I’m sure of it now. “And I love you, too.”
Mav beams at me. He pulls me closer for another kiss. Then, he slaps my ass lightly, and I squeal.
I clean myself up, get dressed in my emerald-green cocktail dress, and make Maverick Tate mine.
The limousine that picks us up is stocked with champagne. Mav looks sharp in a velvet purple blazer, complete with a floral pocket square, and gray slacks. He exchanges a handful of words with the driver before sliding into the back seat beside me. We pop a bottle of champagne, turn on some throwback tunes, and collapse in a heap of laughter.
“I gotta make a stop,” Mav informs me.
“Now?” I look outside the window as Vegas passes by. “But the chapel closes at 3 AM!”
“We have time,” he assures me, pulling up his contact list on his phone. “God, I can’t wait to make you my wife.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you wanna do this, baby. You’ve got a spontaneous streak, just like me.”
Then, he’s muttering hello into his phone. As Mav talks, I help myself to a second glass of champagne, which quickly devolves into a third.
The bubbly, on top of the drinks I consumed at dinner, distorts my reality into a slow-motion series of events, dipped in gold and edged in excitement.
The stop we make to a jewelry store—Cartier? Chopard?—is glittery. The champagne flute I’m handed there is divine. But not as good as the taste of Mav’s kisses. They’re crisp and sweet, like chocolates filled with rosé.
Mav whisks me to a florist next and I don a flower crown with gorgeous white flowers and gold accents, making the green in my dress even more regal. The florist presents us with more champagne as she pins a boutonniere to Mav’s blazer.
“You look gorgeous!” a passerby calls out as we locate the limousine.
“Thank you!” Mav and I both respond. When we look at each other, I hunch forward as laughter grips me. Mav spins me up into his arms. He cradles me against his chest, and I feel the elusive sense of safety that’s been missing from my life for too long.
I can trust him. I can count on him.
His arms are strong and steady, and in their embrace, I feel unshakeable.
He carries me the rest of the way to the limo, depositing me gently in the back seat.
“You’re supposed to do that later. Afterwards. For the threshold,” I tease, pointing at him. My words slur together making me grin harder.
“I’ll do it again. And again. Every day,” he swears. He places a hand over his chest, as if he’s taking an oath.
Is he?
“Forever?” I question, a thread of vulnerability in my tone.
“Forever,” he promises, sealing it with a kiss. His lips are warm against mine and I smile before closing my eyes and kissing him back with everything I am.
I don’t remember the ride from the florist to the little white chapel, but Elvis smacks my ass and makes me laugh. I crack up even more when Mav gives him a warning look and a few terse words.
I dance and spin. Mav watches on with stars in his eyes—as if I’ve managed to daze him. As if he hasn’t flipped my world upside down.
Is this what being in love is like? God, it’s magical.
Elvis takes my picture. I throw up a peace sign and we all laugh.
Mav and I say our vows with a solemnity I feel with every fiber of my being. Committing to him roots me. He gifts me the unshakeable foundation I’ve yearned for. A refuge.
When he says “I do,” his eyes sparkle and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.
“You may kiss the bride,” Elvis announces.
I beam at my husband . Husband!
He’ll never let anything happen to me. He’ll never let anyone—another man, my family, Branson—hurt me. No, Maverick will always keep me safe.
Mav slides his hand beneath my hair to hold the back of my head. He dips me carefully and kisses me hard. Our first kiss of many. I laugh as he pulls me upright.
“You’re mine, Mckenna,” he says.
“Always,” I agree. As if I could ever belong to anyone else?
Mav clasps my hand and pulls me from the chapel.
I toss my flower crown into a fountain, throwing it like a frisbee. We both giggle as it skitters across the top of the water, and I make a wish.
Please, let us always be this happy.
Then, we’re in a loud club. There’s a tequila shot and a salted lime. A diamond band glitters on my ring finger. I sing “Chapel of Love” by The Dixie Cups on a stage to raucous cheering.
See, I can a be a rockstar, too!
“I love you more than anything, Maverick Tate!” I announce it, like a solemn declaration.
There’s more sickly-sweet bubbly. There’re photographs and flashes. There’s dancing and joy and pure merriment.
There’s Mav and his kisses, his touches, his soothing caresses.
I lose a shoe. Who needs it?
Mav carries me over a threshold and my head bangs against the doorframe. I laugh; he swears. His mouth against my injury is gentle. Healing.
Pure love.
When I wake in the morning, my head throbs. My throat is parched. My eyelids hurt. My feet ache. The side of my head, by my temple, feels bruised.
“Fuck,” I mutter, wondering how much I drank last night. Perhaps my body weight in alcohol? Maybe double.
“Oh God,” I croak as my stomach clenches and roils. I feel seasick. Nauseous. Unsteady and unstable and—“Don’t you dare fucking vomit,” I tell myself harshly, but my voice comes out as a whisper.
The bedroom isn’t dark, but the shades aren’t pulled back completely either. It’s morning but…what time? How long have I been asleep?
I shift in the soft bedding and wince when I realize I’m naked.
I groan. Did I have sex? With whom?
Maverick’s delectable body flickers through my mind. My hands on his chest, his fingers twisted in my hair. His mouth on my neck. The scent of his cologne in my nostrils.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I had sex with Maverick. Last night.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, it was Mav.
His callused palms on my legs, the nip of his teeth on my earlobe, the strength of his body as he rolled me on top of him, one hand gripping the back of my thigh.
I shudder.
And it was great! I grin at the visual flickering to life in my mind.
Mind-blowing. Life-affirming.
I exhale in relief.
Until a new thought grips me.
What does it mean? Will it change things between us? What does he think of me?
I crack open an eye and do a double take when I spot the gorgeous, very real diamond eternity band on my ring finger. Confusion followed by a streak of panic blazes through me.
“No fucking way,” I murmur, splaying out my hand.
My mind spins but no thoughts appear. The last thing I recall is riding Maverick, one hand—with no ring—splayed in the center of his chest, the other gripping the headboard for leverage.
Fuck.
“Hey, good, you’re awake.” Mav strolls into the bedroom. He tilts his head as he studies me, his expression confused. “You okay?”
“Hey,” I reply automatically, still staring at my ring. It’s beautiful. Perfect clarity and must have cost a fortune. My gaze travels to Maverick.
He’s frowning now. His gaze bores into mine intensely. His eyebrows pull together. I note the tightness in his jaw. The way his fingers tap out a beat against his thigh like he does when he’s nervous—or annoyed.
Shit. Fuck. What the hell did I do?
Does he hate me? Does he regret everything?
Do I?
My stomach clenches again and my head spins.
“Maverick,” I say, using his full name. My voice is hoarse. I try to sit up and clutch the bedsheet tighter against my bare chest. “Mav,” I murmur. “Did we... Are we…”
“Yes,” he admits, sitting on the side of the bed. “We got married, Mckenna.”
His words, coupled with the dip in the mattress from him plopping down, send me over the edge. I toss myself over the side of the bed, pulling the bedsheet with me, as I run to the bathroom.
The tiles are cold on my bare feet and the room spins as I shoulder check my way past the door and drop to my knees.
I barely make it in time to spill the contents of my stomach—all alcohol—before tears smart the corners of my eyes and stream down my cheeks. My throat burns and my fingers tremble.
I wring the sheet in my hands as I gulp large breaths of oxygen.
What the hell was I thinking?
What the hell did I do?
I married a goddamn rockstar!
I married Maverick Tate.
Thank you so much for reading Bitter Beats !