Chapter Twenty
Chemistry
Zora
My back is still pressed to the pantry door when he pulls away. My lips tingle, swollen, and my breath is coming in ragged gasps. Maverick’s hands linger at my waist like he isn’t ready to let go, and maybe I’m not ready either.
God help me. Because every nerve in my body is alive, humming, desperate for more. I haven’t felt like this in years, this kind of lust and need. I feel raw, hungry, and undone. And it terrifies me.
I push at his chest, not hard enough to move him far, just enough to give myself a sliver of space. “Maverick, we can’t—”
He catches my hand before it falls away, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. “We already did.”
My body shivers at the heat in his voice, the promise in it, the memory of us. My heart and my libido scream yes, but my head fights back.
I shake my head, pressing my free hand to my lips as if I can erase the taste of him. “This is dangerous. We’re supposed to be building something steady for Ivy. Not...” My voice falters. “Not this.”
His jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling like a storm barely contained.
“You think what just happened makes me less steady?” His eyes burn into mine.
“Zora, I’ve been fighting like hell to keep my distance.
To be patient. But the truth is...” He leans closer, his breath brushing my cheek.
“I still want you. All of you. And I don’t think I can keep pretending otherwise. ”
My pulse pounds so hard I swear he can hear it. Because I want him too. I never stopped if I’m being honest. The heat between us has always been undeniable, and my body betrayed me the second his mouth touched mine, arching into him, clinging, drinking him in like oxygen.
But beneath the ache is fear. Fear of letting him close again. Fear of giving him not just my body, but my heart, the heart he’s already broken once before.
I pull back another inch, wrapping my arms around myself. “You hurt me, Maverick. You left me to raise her alone. Do you have any idea what it cost me to survive that?”
His face twists, pain flashing across it. “Every day. Every second. And I hate myself for it.” His voice cracks. “But I’m here now. I’m staying. And I swear to you, Zora, if you let me in, I’ll never walk away again.”
The words should soothe me. Instead, they carve deeper into the crack running through me, into the divide between fear and hope. Because part of me wants to believe him. But a different part of me is terrified of what believing can cost me.
When I don’t answer, he leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll wait until you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”
He leaves quietly. And I move automatically. Putting away dishes and picking up toys. I find myself sitting on the edge of my bed listening to the quiet rise and fall of Ivy’s breathing through the baby monitor.
I touch my lips, still tingling, still swollen from his kiss. Heat pools low in my belly, a constant reminder of what I want and what I shouldn’t want. I close my eyes, remembering the way his hands gripped my waist, the way his voice roughened with need.
I didn’t just feel wanted. I’d felt alive. And that scares me more than anything. Because what if I let him back in and it all falls apart again? What if Ivy gets caught in the wreckage this time? But then, what if he is telling the truth?
What if the man who held our daughter’s hand at the fair, who let her bury him in sand at the park, who quit his vices just to show her he could be steady ... what if that man is real?
I curl up, burying my face in the pillow, my body still aching with arousal, my heart pounding with fear. And somewhere beneath it all, softer but no less real, is hope. Hope that maybe the flames won’t destroy us this time.
Maybe they can light the way home.