Chapter 11 Zoe Has Been Arrested #2
She was already sore, every stroke dragging oversensitized nerves, but she wanted more, wanted him to fuck the memory of the last hour out of her skull. He pinned her wrists above her, one-handed, and she melted against the wall, let herself be nothing but sensation.
The only things anchoring her were his mouth, his hands, the blunt shock of each slam forward.
She felt bruised and wanted, wet everywhere, the air thick with their sweat.
Her voice snarled up in her throat—too raw for words, just ugly stabs of sound—and all the while, his grip got harsher, almost desperate, as if he was holding on to her to keep himself alive.
“Oh… hahh… ahhhh…” Her spine arched off the wall, scraping drywall dust into the sweat on her back.
He mouthed at her neck and collarbone, teeth grazing hard enough to sting.
It rattled something loose in her, a molten core that started in her gut and ricocheted through her whole body.
Her climax was brief and feral, a shockwave that left her shuddering and blind.
When she blinked back, he was still thrusting, a rhythm falling apart at the seams, his mouth open and breath ragged.
He let go of her wrists and cupped her ass, fucking her up higher against the wall like he wanted to bruise the memory right into her skin.
His hand was hot where it gripped her, fingers digging in, the pain barely distinguishable from pleasure anymore.
He groaned—almost a sob—and came, hips thrust so hard she felt it in her teeth.
They clung together, animal and unsteady, until the aftershocks faded. He pulled out and set her down, gently at first, but her knees wouldn’t lock. She sank to the carpet, breathless and punchdrunk, the night air cold and sharp on her skin.
***
Rose shifted in bed, her back turning slightly as a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her body was still sore from the night before, every movement reminding her of how thoroughly exhausted she was, but she slowly turned over anyway.
Her eyes opened.
It was already morning.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a warm glow. Rose's gaze drifted toward the window, and she immediately noticed Maverick standing there, pouring himself a glass of water.
He was wearing only his trousers, the waistband sitting low on his hips while his upper body remained completely bare. His back was fully exposed, the muscles across his shoulders and along his spine defined beneath the morning light.
From behind, he looked almost unfairly handsome.
His dark hair fell messily over the nape of his neck, as untamed as ever, yet somehow perfectly suited to him. It was the kind of effortless appearance that made Rose wonder how someone could look so good without seeming to put any effort into it at all.
She continued staring.
Despite the soreness still lingering through her body, a familiar warmth stirred inside her as her gaze remained fixed on him.
There were faint scratches across his back from the night before, and the sight immediately brought back memories she probably shouldn't have been thinking about so early in the morning.
Her eyes burned with embarrassment, yet she couldn't seem to look away.
‘He really is way too lethal when it comes to looks.’
Dangerously handsome. Completely irresistible.
She couldn't understand how someone like him had apparently managed to stay single for so long. She had never even heard of him having any close female friends.
Her gaze shamelessly traveled lower, moving from his broad shoulders down his back, across his waist, and toward his hips before continuing down his long legs.
She was so absorbed in looking at him that she failed to notice when he turned around.
Until she realized where his eyes were.
Maverick was looking directly at her.
Rose's gaze snapped back to his face.
Her entire face flushed.
She jolted beneath the sheets, her fingers tightening around them as she realized he'd caught her staring at him the entire time.
Then the corner of Maverick's mouth lifted into a smile.
“Why did you stop?”
Rose's face burned even hotter.
“You don't have to stop if you want another look.”
His gaze remained fixed on hers, amusement gleaming in his eyes.
“All you have to do is say the word, Rose.”
Rose immediately buried herself deeper beneath the sheets, mortified.
Her face flushed, and she immediately shifted away, scrambling out of bed.
“I wasn't looking at you,” she insisted, hurriedly grabbing the sheets as she tried to stand.
She barely made it a step.
In the next breath, Maverick caught her arm and pulled her back.
Rose fell onto the mattress, her head landing against the pillow. Before she could recover, he was above her, bracing himself over her and leaving her completely trapped beneath him.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Rose suddenly became painfully aware of how close he was. Her body tensed, yet a strange electricity ran through her at the same time. She swallowed hard.
“I have work,” she whispered. “I need to meet with a company about a new perfume’s launch.”
Maverick barely seemed to hear her.
His gaze lingered on her face before drifting briefly toward her neck and the edge of the sheet covering her. The unmistakable hunger in his eyes made Rose’s breath catch.
Then his gaze returned to hers.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” he murmured. “There’s still plenty of time. It’s only six in the morning.”
Before Rose could answer, he lowered his head and kissed her.
The kiss was brief but heated, leaving her momentarily breathless.
When he lifted his head again, his eyes remained fixed on hers.
“You should be careful when you tempt me like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m not known for having much restraint.”
Rose barely had time to process his words before he leaned down again, his lips brushing along her neck. A soft shiver ran through her, and whatever protest had been forming on her lips disappeared instantly.
Three hours later, Rose finally rushed down the stairs, dressed in her office clothes and already running late.
She hurried toward the door, grabbing her bag from the table.
Maverick followed behind her.
Just as she reached the entrance, he stepped into her path.
“Breakfast?”
“I don't have time right now,” Rose protested. “Maybe later. I'll just skip breakfast.”
“No.”
His answer was calm but firm.
He caught her gently by the arm and guided her toward the breakfast table. Then he picked up a sandwich, wrapped it in a napkin, and held it out to her.
“Eat.”
Rose took a reluctant bite, then immediately glanced toward the watch on her wrist.
“I’m getting late.”
“You’re already late.” He held the sandwich to her lips again. “Five more minutes aren’t going to make any difference.”
Rose sighed in defeat before finally opening her mouth and taking another bite.
His expression softened at once.
The pleased look that appeared on his face for something as simple as watching her eat made an unexpected warmth settle in her chest. For some reason, she liked seeing that expression on him. She liked knowing that she had pleased him, even if it was over something as insignificant as breakfast.
And, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to see that look on his face again.
More often than she cared to admit.
She said nothing, simply taking the sandwich from his hand. He seemed reluctant to let it go, but eventually released it.
His hand, however, didn't move away.
Instead, he stepped closer. His other hand came up to the side of her face, his fingers sliding gently into her hair as he cradled the back of her head. The affectionate gesture caught her off guard, and she stood quietly beneath his touch as he brushed his fingers through her hair.
Then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
Rose's heart gave a small, unexpected flutter.
Maverick picked up his coffee from the table and took a slow sip, still standing close enough that his familiar scent surrounded her.
She had grown used to it.
His scent was warm and distinctly his, and somehow, instead of overwhelming her, it made her feel strangely calm. The closer he came, the more comfortable she felt in his space.
Perhaps she had simply become accustomed to having him around her, to the way he quietly took control of little things, to the way his presence seemed to fill whatever space he occupied.
Whatever the reason, she didn't dislike it.
In fact, she liked it far more than she should.
So she simply stood there, letting him stay close, allowing herself to enjoy the quiet affection without questioning it.