Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Solenn
The moment I stepped into Maverick’s penthouse, I knew I was in trouble.
The space was exactly what I should have expected—modern, sleek, and unapologetically masculine.
Everything was in deep shades of gray and black, all sharp angles and perfectly curated luxury.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one wall, framing the city skyline in a way that made the entire place feel like it was hovering over the world.
It was controlled, calculated—just like him.
And yet, there was something dangerous about stepping inside.
Once the doors closed behind me, I was walking into his domain, a place where I no longer had the upper hand.
Maverick walked past me without a word, loosening his tie with one hand as he disappeared down a hallway. A moment later, he returned, tossing a folded T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants in my direction. I caught them with raised brows, glancing down at the fabric before looking back up at him.
“This is what I get?” I mused, holding up the oversized shirt. “No silk robes? No designer loungewear?”
Maverick exhaled, clearly out of patience already. “Go change, Solenn.”
I smirked but didn’t push further, walking past him and into what I assumed was the bathroom.
My breath hitched slightly as I took it in—all sleek black marble and polished chrome, cool and impersonal, just like the rest of his place.
The shower alone was bigger than my entire apartment’s bathroom, and I had a feeling the water pressure was probably life-changing. But I wasn’t here to test it out.
I stripped out of my ruined dress, letting the silk pool at my feet, and grabbed a towel to wipe off the remnants of the wine that had stained my skin a deep red.
I pulled on the T-shirt first, and as expected, it swallowed me completely, the hem falling mid-thigh, the neckline wide enough to slip off one shoulder.
The fabric was soft, worn in, and worse—it smelled like him.
Clean, crisp, dark—expensive cologne mixed with something undeniably Maverick.
I hesitated for a second before slipping on the sweatpants, rolling the waistband several times just to keep them from sliding right off my hips.
The effect was ridiculous, but I was too tired to care.
I ran a hand through my damp hair, taking one last breath before stepping back into the main room. “Alright,” I started, “I?—”
I stopped.
Maverick was by the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey, his back partially to me as he stared out at the city. But the moment I stepped forward, he turned—and froze.
His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate, his fingers tightening slightly around the glass. Something shifted.
The energy in the room changed, crackling like an exposed wire.
I suddenly felt the weight of every inch of fabric clinging to me—the way the shirt barely covered my thighs, the way the sweatpants hung low on my hips, loose enough that one wrong move would send them pooling to the floor.
The way his gaze lingered a second too long at the place where the fabric slipped off my shoulder, exposing bare skin.
His jaw clenched. “You should have just taken the shirt.”
I lifted an eyebrow, my pulse ticking up a notch. “What, and give you the satisfaction of seeing me walk around with bare legs? Please. You don’t deserve that reward.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes, something that made heat curl low in my stomach. He took a slow sip of his drink, but his gaze never left me.
I could still walk away from this. I could grab a blanket, curl up on the couch, and pretend that nothing about this situation was completely reckless.
But that wasn’t who I was.
And that sure as hell wasn’t who Maverick was, either.
I took a step closer, then another, my bare feet silent against the cold floor. “Are you going to keep staring, or do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Maverick’s fingers tensed around his glass, his throat working as he swallowed another sip of whiskey. “You should go to bed, Solenn.”
I tilted my head, closing more of the space between us, watching his muscles tighten as I got closer. “That’s not an answer.”
His jaw ticked. “It wasn’t a question.”
I smiled, slow and deliberate, my pulse hammering in my ears. “Then you’re going to hate what I do next.”
Before he could respond, I reached for the glass in his hand, curling my fingers over his as I pulled it away from him. I brought it to my lips, taking a slow sip, letting the burn settle in my throat before handing it back to him.
His eyes darkened.
Then, everything snapped.
One second, I was standing in front of him, daring him to react.
The next, his hands were on me—hot, firm, unrelenting.
His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me flush against him, erasing the last bit of space between us.
His mouth crashed against mine, and I met him with just as much fire, just as much intensity. His kiss was nothing like before—this wasn’t about control anymore. This was heat, frustration, and months of tension snapping all at once.
I gasped as he lifted me onto the counter, his body pressing between my thighs, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I knew I’d feel it tomorrow. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl against my lips, the sound deep and possessive.
His mouth moved to my jaw, my neck, his breath hot against my skin as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of his own shirt. The fabric bunched as he dragged it higher, his palm smoothing over my bare stomach, up my ribs, slow and deliberate.
I shivered, arching into him, silent permission.
His mouth found mine again, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and more demanding. His tongue teased mine, coaxing, claiming, his fingers pressing into my skin like he needed to memorize every inch of me.
I was lost in him now, in the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way his body fit against mine like he had been made for this exact moment.
“Maverick,” I whispered against his lips, not even sure what I was asking for.
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes burning, intense, dark with something I wasn’t ready to name. His fingers skimmed my thigh, tracing a slow, torturous path up my skin.
“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, his breath fanning against my lips.
I exhaled, my hands sliding under the fabric of his shirt, trailing over hard muscle and warm skin. “That’s what makes it fun.”
His grip tightened, a sharp inhale, and then, just like that?—
There was no more thinking.
No more holding back.
Just us.
And tonight, there were no rules.