CHAPTER 24 Everleigh Bradley
Can We Talk
“Whoa there, Hotshot,” I say, pulling back.
Just because we’re not at home doesn’t mean we can make out in a hotel lobby. It’s a particularly bad idea with so many cameras around, but I guess this is his way of thanking me.
And also…
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Am I the only one who saw him with that little girl? Because swoon. Swoon City. I feel like I’m that GIF of Blanche from The Golden Girls where she’s spraying herself with a water bottle because it’s so hot.
I’m equally hot. For Maverick.
There’s no denying it.
I was already in the general vicinity of Swoon City just from seeing him in a suit. But then seeing him with a kid? Lord help us all.
It’s like he turned into someone else entirely around that little girl. He melted from this grumpy asshole into a caring, kind man with a heart of gold. I’ve never seen him like that before.
He smiled. Smiled! I’ve never seen it before. To be honest, I wasn’t fully sure he had teeth in there until he grazed them against my nipple, but he does, and they’re pearly white and straight, and his entire face lights up when he bares them. Swoon again.
I had to do something. When I saw his face fall after Bella ran out and Bev gave him the standard answer about confidentiality, I had to find some way to help. So I went to Carl, used my charming personality, and conjured up her info only to get the soul kissed out of me when I handed it over.
Yes. My soul left my body. I believe it may have moved over to attach to his, which is potentially a very, very big problem.
But I’m plowing forward—soulless, I guess. I have no other choice. We have a gala to attend.
He rests his forehead to mine for just a beat. “Thank you,” he says softly. He pulls back, and I see the emotion in his eyes.
“I could tell it was important to you.”
He presses his lips together and nods, and then we head into the ballroom.
It’s a nice event. Maverick writes a fat check to the organization, we eat our dinner, and we listen to the keynote speech. When dinner ends and dancing begins, he glances over at me. “Can we go now?”
I chuckle, and I nod as I pat his arm. “You did good, Jennings.” We head toward the elevator. “I didn’t know you were so good with kids,” I say after he pushes the button and we wait.
“I’m a man of many talents.”
Ain’t that the truth?
Others join us on the elevator, so we’re quiet as we wait to get to our floor. Once we’re in our room, he immediately strips out of his suit jacket, undoes his tie, and unbuttons his shirt, stripping it all off until he’s standing in front of me wearing just his pants.
It took all of ten seconds for him to get undressed, and I couldn’t help but freeze and stare. My eyes fall to the tattoos on his arms, and I finally ask about them. “Why did you get a pirate ship?”
He lifts a shoulder. “It all goes together. The whole scene is a reminder to stay above water even when times get tough. The sharks circling remind me of all the threats in life, the anchor is for the stability I feel like I’m constantly chasing, and the pirate ship is a symbol of rebellion and nonconformity.
I liked the symbolism since that’s what my name means. ”
“And the star?”
He purses his lips. “Apparently a bad mistake when I thought I was going to play for Dallas for my entire career.”
“What if the star is your light in the dark?” I walk over and trace the blank space where the star is outlined. “Fill this in, and it’s got new meaning. It’s hopeful instead of regretful. A star guiding your ship at night.”
It’s clear he never thought of it that way by the way he tilts his head at me.
I raise both brows as I kick off the heels that are killing my feet. “I can rebrand anything. It’s my secret superpower.”
He reaches for me and hooks his arm around my waist. “Interesting.”
“What?” I ask, a little breathless this close to him when he’s not wearing a shirt.
“I’d say your secret superpower is the way you fuck, but if you want to go with the rebrand thing, that’s cool too.”
I chuckle at his words. “You’re just saying that to get me into bed.”
“Did I need to say anything to get you into bed?”
I giggle as I swat at his star with new meaning.
“I mean, there is only one bed here, and you’re welcome to it if you want it. I can sleep on the cou—”
I interrupt him when I move to my tiptoes.
“Shut up,” I say, and I press my lips to his.
We’re alone now, and I don’t need to pull away because we’re in public.
His palm slides to my jaw, and his big hand holds me half on my jawline and half around my neck.
His hand is warm against my skin, and it pulses this needy ache in me that only he can satisfy.
He takes his time. He’s slow and luxurious in this kiss. He’s not rushing me toward the bed, or to the couch, or even up against the windows, instead taking the time to allow our tongues to dance as my arms wrap passionately around him and he hauls me in closer to him with one arm around my waist.
It’s perfection here in this cocoon. The outside world can’t touch us in here as we grow closer, me in his arms as he clings to me, holds me, worships me.
He pulls back first, and I think it’s because he’s going to take me into the bedroom, but instead, he surprises me by saying, “Can we talk?”
Okay, surprise is too mild a word for the shock that courses through me—that this man of so few words would stop one of the steamiest kisses of my life in order to talk.
“Of course,” I say, stepping back out of his orbit as I force that needy pain between my legs to take a backseat while I listen to whatever it is he wants to say.
He draws in a deep breath, and he wanders over to the window. He keeps his gaze out there as he talks, as if it’s easier for him to say what he has to say without having to face my eyes. The whole idea of it sends a shudder down my back.
“I know we’ve only slept together twice, but before we make it three, I need to say some things.
I’ve been through some shit that shut me off to ever wanting to get involved with someone again.
And then you swept into my life like a fucking tsunami with your rebrand and red lipstick, and something woke up inside me that died a decade ago. ”
He turns to face me, and I realize I’m holding my breath as I wait as patiently as I possibly can for his words.
“My dad spent my entire childhood cheating on my mom. Usually in front of me, and always with a line about how I needed to cover for him, like we were buddies instead of father and son. It hurt my mother, it hurt me, and that’s why I think he’s a bag of shit to this day.
I never wanted to be anything like him. I took a different course and got married young, right out of college.
She was my high school sweetheart. We’d been together six years by the time we got married—through most of high school and all of college.
A month after our wedding, she died in a car accident, and I found out that night that the baby I didn’t know she was carrying had also been killed. ”
“Oh my God, Maverick,” I whisper as tears heat in my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He presses his lips together. “If only that were the end. If only that were the worst part of it.”
My brows crash together as I have no clue what he means.
“I found out at the funeral that she’d been cheating on me. The man she’d been cheating with, a friend of mine, showed his face and admitted the baby was his.” His voice breaks on the last line, and tears start to tumble down my cheeks at the incredible pain this man has endured.
No wonder why he hates the world. No wonder why he prefers to be by himself. No wonder why he hasn’t let anyone in.
It’s been nothing but betrayal after betrayal for him his entire life.
But somehow, some way…he’s letting me in. He trusts me. And I hold that sacredly. I won’t let him down. I can’t.
“My entire childhood tumbled back as I was in the midst of grieving my wife. I lost her to this horrible accident, not knowing I’d already lost her long before that.
I thought my life would be different, but she was no better than my goddamn father was.
We were supposed to have this child, a boy or maybe a girl who would have turned ten this year.
Ten. Double digits. And he wasn’t even mine.
And instead, I’m alone because I’ve been too fucking scared to let anyone in.
The only person I have left is my mom, but she’s long gone.
” His voice breaks again, and he doesn’t hide his own show of emotion as he starts to break down.
My voice is soft as I ask, “What happened to your mom?”
“Her memory. She has Alzheimer’s, and it’s advancing. Fast. She thought I was my father when I visited her on Saturday.”
“Oh, Maverick,” I murmur. I swipe at the tears still tracking down my cheeks as I think about how hard that must have been for her to mistake him for someone he holds so many negative feelings for.
“You’re not alone anymore. I’m right here.
” My voice is a whisper, and he moves away from the window and back over to me.
He takes me in his arms and buries his face in my neck. “I know.”
He clings to me, and I wrap my arms around him to hug him and hold him in a way he hasn’t had in far too long, in a way that lets him know that someone is right here on his side.
“Why did you tell me?” I ask softly as I hold him.
“Because I trust you.”
My heart both shatters and swells at the same time—that he hasn’t had anybody to turn to in an entire decade and that I have the privilege of being that person for him.
His lips move from my neck to my mouth, and if our time on Saturday night was filled with intensity, this time is filled with emotion.
His tears mingle with mine as this connection we share is helping him let go of the pain and revel in something better. He deserves happiness. Love. We all do. And suddenly, I want with all my heart to be the one to give it to him.
He walks us toward the bedroom while we kiss, and he drops his pants and boxers and kicks them off along with his shoes.
He lets go of me just for long enough to reach under my dress and slide my panties down my legs, and then he sits on the bed and pulls me down on top of him so my legs fall onto either side of his.
He gazes at me, and I see the longing there, the need.
The want. The intensity. The heat. All of it, but also this time, there’s something else, something big.
Maybe it’s love, or maybe it’s just feelings that could be the start of something like love, but either way, I want to drink in the way he’s looking at me for the rest of time.
I want to be the only woman he looks at with these eyes, and as he pushes himself into me and I start to slowly ride him while our eyes continue to hold that gaze, I feel a searing sense of the same thing as it races through me.
I’m not sure where it comes from, but it’s there, deep, intense, and raw, and it’s something I never expected to feel with this man who hated the very idea of me before he even met me.
I’m getting through to him, and maybe this was always meant to happen. Maybe we were destined to cross paths so I could rebrand his legacy.
But what I never expected was the thought that maybe I’d end up being a part of that legacy with him.