Chapter 4
MAVERICK
Ican’t fucking believe what I’m about to do.
As I stand outside Lyra’s apartment door, I force my brain to go over this again.
I shouldn’t have come back. Fuck, the whole point is not getting close to her.
She’s beautiful and full of light, everything I am not.
And I’m putting her at risk by being here.
Yet, I can’t walk away.
I tell myself I’m here as a threat. She doesn’t want to get involved with me, not really.
No sane woman would after they learned more about me.
And maybe she didn’t notice I knew where she lived, but I’ll make sure she remembers it now.
Not only do I know, but I can get past her illusion of safety easily. I could hurt her if I wanted to.
She saw me staring at my prey the other day. If Lyra felt like it, she could call the cops and give them a good enough description of me. She’s a witness, a beautifully ignorant witness who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.
I’m a fucking hitman. I was trained to hide, to conceal myself, to hunt. Yet, this woman makes my heart beat erratically, and the sight of her makes me want things I shouldn’t.
Releasing a sigh, I shake my head. Focus, Maverick. Focus on what is ahead of you. One step at a time. I have to make her see I could get to her if I wanted. This is not about her, and this is not about us. Raising a fist, I knock twice.
Lyra opens the door with a sleepy look on her face.
It’s early, so the sight makes sense, and it should not shoot blood straight to my cock.
My pants grow tight, but I grind my teeth together and stare at her.
Shit, she looks even better than yesterday, with her hair mussed and her cheeks pink.
I can only think of her spread on my bed, my mouth devouring her cunt first thing in the morning. Oh, how hard she could cream my cock...
“Maverick?” she asks, and I wait for the shock to register, for fear to cross her eyes. It doesn’t. “You alright?”
Her words are a slap. Why does she care? Nobody ever cared. Fuck, my father, who raised me into this life, never gave two shits if I didn’t come back home one day. I almost step away, surprised like hell by her words, but I manage to stand my ground.
“Of course I’m alright.”
She nods, then opens the door. “Would you like to come in? Do you need something?”
Fuck, why is she treating me like this? I’m a fucking threat to her. I could break her neck with one hand. And yet, she doesn’t fear me. She actually invites me in.
“You don’t know me,” I blurt, half exasperated. Didn’t this woman learn she shouldn’t let strange men in? Those warnings were about people like me, and yet she doesn’t seem to care. “You shouldn’t let a stranger inside.”
“You’re not a stranger. I know you.”
“No, you don’t. Not really. You don’t know what I could do to you.”
And fucking hell, she makes this face. She bites the corner of her lip, and her eyes burn so brightly they’re two torches in the dark. It’s almost like she wants to defy me. Like she wants to know what I could do.
Don’t fucking tempt me, woman.
After an eternity, Lyra rolls her eyes, then steps away, leaving the door open. “Okay, whatever. I need to brew some coffee. If you want in, then come in.” And she disappears inside her apartment.
I still can’t wrap my head around her, but I step across the threshold and close the door. A powerful smell hits me the moment I turn around. It’s so inherently her it makes my cock twitch. She smells sweet, but it’s all her. All natural and I can’t help but wonder what she would taste like.
Her apartment is a small one-bedroom with splashes of color so stark it makes me blink in confusion.
Though the walls are white and the small couch is a solid shade of light gray, the rest looks like someone puked a rainbow.
Over the couch, there’s a green spread, pillows both red and blue, and a yellow shirt.
Next to the TV, an assortment of half-burned candles, their colors ranging from orange to sky blue.
She has picture frames of plants and beach scenes and a dog, but she also taped childish drawings on the wall.
“The kids back at the oncology wing gave me those,” she says from where she stands, near the threshold into the kitchen. “When I worked there. A couple of years ago. It’s the one good thing about big hospitals—I get to work with children in special care.”
“You don’t like big hospitals?”
She sways her head from side to side. “I’d rather work in a smaller place, where you get to know everyone in town. But this kind of place is way harder to have vacant spots.”
I nod, following her into the kitchen. The thought of me taking lives while she cares for them is the single proof anyone would need. We don’t fit together. We don’t belong.
“What’s that?” she asks, jutting her chin in my hand’s direction.
I raise the paper bag and paper cup, having almost forgotten about them. “Your breakfast.” And I offer it to her.
She accepts both, blinking rapidly. “My breakfast?” And she peers inside the bag. “Oh, my God, I love these muffins. How did you know?”
I don’t reply, merely stare at her, hoping she’ll catch my drift.
I know because that’s what I do. Hunting and stalking are part of my job.
Lyra doesn’t seem to think twice about it, smiling, then sipping from the hot beverage in hand.
She hums in delight and from the way her eyes sparkle at me, I know she recognizes her favorite drink, too.
My stomach flips. This was supposed to be a warning. I know her because I can follow her. I can get inside her home easily, and I could hurt her. Yet, it doesn’t work. She merely smiles at me.
“What about you?” she asks. “How do you take your coffee?” And she indicates her coffee maker.
“Already had it,” I say, then follow her back into her living room. She throws the pillows out of the couch and plops down on one side of it. I stare at her when she pats the couch. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Inviting you to take a seat.” And she blows on her beverage before sipping it. “Come on. I don’t bite.”
I glare at her. She doesn’t even blink. “Lyra.” I release a huge sigh. Can’t she see what’s going on? “Don’t you get it? How do you think I brought you home yesterday? And how do I know the breakfast you enjoy? Can’t you read the signs?”
She smiles, looking so amused, then reaches out and turns the TV on with the remote.
“What signs? That you’re warning me off, even when you keep showing up?
” She crosses her legs and pats the couch again.
Fuck, she’s in lounging shorts, her thick thighs exposed, looking so damn soft to touch...
My head goes straight to the gutter. My cock is so hard now she’ll notice, even when I’m wearing stiff jeans.
So I sit down next to her, even if it’s to hide my erection. “You’re exasperating,” I tell her. “This was supposed to be a warning. How can you read it the opposite way?”
Lyra shrugs, the large shirt threatening to slide down her shoulder.
She fixes it, but the mere sight of her flesh makes my fingers flex.
I can’t put into words how much I want her.
The sight of her lips wrapped around the rim of the cup, her fingers breaking the muffin apart.
I’m hypnotized by how her pink tongue reaches out for crumbs in the corner of her mouth and how her chest moves when she releases a content sigh.
She’s too much. Everything she does is too much. She gets under my skin without even trying.
Lyra looks up, meeting my gaze. She puts her empty cup and the paper bag away. The news drone on in the background, but all I can see is her. “What?” she asks, opening that sexy smile of hers as she wipes a hand down her cheek. “Am I dirty?”
Fuck, no. But I’d die to dirty her up.
Shoving a hand into her hair, I grip at the roots near the nape and tilt her head back.
My body hovers over hers, shadowing her face.
I push her back against the couch, caging her in with my arms. She’s so small against me.
Tiny, even with her full curves. Lyra reaches up, and I know she’ll see it now.
That I’m a threat. That I could hurt her. I wait for the struggle.
Instead, she fists my shirt, her lips part, and her eyes burn with unbridled lust. Spreading her legs, I kneel between them and pull her to my lap, crashing our mouths together.
Lyra releases a sigh, choked with a moan, and her pussy lands on my hard cock.
This time, she moans for real, her eyelids fluttering closed.
She parts her mouth for me and I drink from her taste.
And she tastes so much better than I could have ever hoped for.
There’s the sweetness of her and the spices of her drink.
She’s warm and delicate, but her tongue fights with mine with unstoppable thirst. I keep holding her hair, devouring her lips with mine, and my other hand takes a tour of her curves.
My rough palm scrapes down her soft shoulder, and my fingertips grip her hips.
I grind her against me, her hot core sliding up and down my shaft.
Lyra breaks the kiss. I wait for the struggle once more, but she fists my hair with both hands and attacks my face with pure hunger. She circles her hips, rubbing herself all over me. The scent of her arousal is a punch to the stomach, and at that moment I send it all to hell.
I need her. I need this woman as hard as I need my next gulp of air.
“The senator was found lifeless inside her apartment. Though there were no signs of a break-in, this is being treated as a murder by the police,” a female voice drawls in the background.
My fingers curl around Lyra’s ass-cheek.
Fuck, she’s perfect. She’s perfection with curves for days and so fucking soft...
I grip the waistband of her shorts and tug them downward.
I want these out. I want to eat her cunt up until she creams all over my chin.
“This is not the first senator to be found dead in the last two months. Senator Edward Bradley was shot to death in front of his beach house on July 10th, and though the place was highly secure, the police are at a loss since the cameras brought up nothing.”
I break the kiss. Shit. Shit, this was all me. Why the fuck did I have to hear about my jobs while I’m tasting her? She’s a dream, a utopia, a perfect, pure person that shouldn’t be brought into this life.
Lyra frowns at me, then turns to look at the television. “What?” she asks, but then she sees it. The pictures of the two dead senators as the reporter goes on about the bill they were about to pass. I watch Lyra’s cheeks go pale. “That woman... The woman in the subway...”
It clicks. She’s not stupid. Lyra gapes back at me, her eyes so wide I see her entire irises. Holding her hips, I sit her down and get to my feet. There it is. The doubt, the horror, the fear. I knew they’d eventually come.
“Maverick?” she asks, and there’s a pleading in her voice. She wants me to say that has nothing to do with me. But why would I lie to her when I want to keep my distance?
I shake my head hard. “That’s why I came here,” I tell her, reminding myself of the fact. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” And I point at the discarded paper bag. “This was supposed to be a warning, Lyra. I’m not the man you want me to be. I’m not the man you deserve me to be.”
She shoots to her feet. “Did you kill that woman? Is that why you were watching her?”
I don’t deny it. “You have to keep your distance.” And I turn around and stride to her door. My fingers curl around the doorknob, but Lyra catches up to me and stops me.
“This isn’t you,” she insists, her brows lowering on her face. “This can’t be you. I know there’s good in your heart, Maverick.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I can feel it.”
God, this woman. Why is she so damn hard-headed? “Lyra. Not everyone has a good heart. Some people are tainted. That’s how it is.” And I sidestep her to open the door.
“Why are you? Tainted?” she asks in a small voice as I step into the corridor.
I shoot one last look at her, my heart squeezing in my chest. “Because I have no choice.” And I leave, closing the door behind me. This is it. This time, there’s no turning back.
No way back after she learned who I truly am.