Chapter Thirty-One
Windsor
There’s no hesitation on either side. He’s kissing me like I’m oxygen and he can’t breathe. I’m kissing him like he’s a condemned man on death row. I take it. He gives it—all of it. I forgot how delicious his lips taste when they slide over mine. The way his cologne and body wash seep into my awareness cause heat and wetness everywhere it’s supposed to be right now. Lust. Love. They both battle for the front position. I want him to slide into me and finally be connected to him again, but then again I don’t. Because that means it will be over sooner.
“Don’t leave me tonight,” I say when Maverick buzzes his nose down my neck on his way to my chest. I tilt my chin up and arch my back to give him better access. I peer down at him through my lashes as he closes his mouth around a nipple. His grin is deliciously devilish. I missed this so much—this connection that shakes the world around me. I can’t get close enough quickly enough. All the beautiful words from his letter solidify everything. All of my fears and preconceived notions about our relationship dissipated after he confessed everything face to face. Love is louder than anything else. It comes before anything else.
“I want to stay,” he growls, his mouth pressing kisses into the skin on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair to feel him near me. It’s almost unreal to have him here in my world after everything that happened. I gently pull his head to bring his lips back to mine…exactly where I want them.
I feel him smiling against my mouth. “What?” I ask, pulling myself up to kiss the tattoo on his neck with my tongue and then each dimple.
He presses his hot lips on my neck and trails them over to my ear. Goosebumps break across my entire freaking body. One Maverick move sets me on fire. “It’s been a while,” he whispers. “I’ll try to remember how to do it.”
“Let me help,” I say, taking his shoulders to hoist myself up. I push him back on the copious amounts of throw pillows and smile. It reminds me how badly I wished he were with me when we had our sexy Skype call. He tosses a few on the floor, never taking his eyes off me. “What should we do next? It’s been a while for me, too,” I admit. He licks his lips. I suck my bottom lip.
Maverick groans a painfully turned on noise. He is standing completely erect, pointing at the ceiling like a compass needle points north. The sight of it reminds me how wet I am. Which is basically the state I live in when he’s in the same vicinity…naked or otherwise. I straddle his knees and lean over to let a strand of spit fall from my mouth onto the head of his sex.
“No one can hold a candle, right?” I ask, flicking my gaze up to meet his. He’s stopped breathing altogether and his hazel eyes are transfixed on me, on himself. His mouth drops open a little more when I let my head fall closer to where he wants it to go. His hips automatically thrust up to meet my lips. He closes his eyes when I take him in deep and delicately wrap my hand around him, and start moving both at the same time.
Careful not to use my teeth, I swirl my tongue and rise and fall at a slow pace. I see Maverick’s fists bunching my quilt out of the corner of my eye. He mumbles nonsense and I hear my name thrown in every few words. His face is that of pure, unfettered ecstasy. Suddenly his eyes fly open to meet mine.
“Okay,” he breathes out. “Enough.” He slides me up to straddle the top of his chest. I can feel his heart hammering away against my core. It turns me on so much that I can’t see straight. “I want to taste you,” he rasps, his heavy, hooded eyes letting me know he’s telling and not asking. I place my index finger on his thick bottom lip and pull it down. His eyes are pleading now. With the same finger, I circle his mouth and dip my finger inside. He sucks it, flicking it with his tongue. My muscles clench in response.
“How do I taste?” I ask as I pop my finger out of his mouth. Grabbing my thighs, he guides me forward until my sex is directly on his mouth. He kisses it lightly, letting his tongue dip inside. I sigh because it feels so freaking good, pleasure blasts through every nerve ending in my body.
“Fucking mouthwatering,” he replies, lifting his head to lick and suck more aggressively. I try to keep my hips from rocking, but I can’t. Maverick puts his hands on my ass to try to still me as he works. I glance down and the sight of how turned on he is makes what he’s doing even more pleasurable. Kissing turns to licking, which turns into his skilled tongue flicking just the right spot at just the right pace. I throw my head back and close my eyes. When his mouth pulls away I peek down. He’s pushing my hips down his body. Foreplay is over. His lips, glisten with me as he says, “It’s gonna be quick so I didn’t finish you off. Are you close?” Maverick asks, positioning me over his throbbing member.
“I’m close,” I whisper, moving his hand aside. I slide the tip inside me. “And you totally have perfect recall. No problems with your memory there,” I say, sliding down his shaft until it’s all the way in, hitting the back, filling me completely.
Maverick’s eyes close as a hiss escapes his lips. “I did actually forget how amazing you feel,” he growls, taking my hips into his huge, hot hands. He pulls me up using only his biceps and pushes me back down…hard. It feels so good that I throw my head back and scream his name over and over. Like it’s my new mantra or something I don’t want to forget. He impales me repeatedly until the rhythm is so perfect I know I won’t be able to hold back much longer.
He flips me under him so my back is pressed on the bed and he keeps up the same pace, except the angle is different, and I cry out from the pleasure blasting through my body. I come and I come and I come, tightening around him, and losing all thought process. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pounds into me at a furious pace, taking me, claiming me as I spasm around him. A few more strokes and he’s coming inside me, hot and intense. I feel each strong spurt as it blasts into me as deep as it can possibly go. He rocks his hips a few more times as his orgasm jerks through his body, and then he collapses on top of me, a sweet, sweaty mess of perfection.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, burying my face into his neck. “I love you, Mav.” His face, which was buried in a pillow, turns so he’s looking at the side of my cheek.
“Say it again,” he demands, voice raspy.
I turn my own head to meet his gaze. “I love you. I love you. I love everything about you.”
“Because I just rocked your fucking world?” His dimples pop. He looks so freaking hot right now, freshly fucked, and with love oozing out of every pore that I can barely stand it. He’s still inside me so I rock my hips to feel him deeper. I feel him watching me. My eyes flutter closed. He rocks into me again. I hear him laugh. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Can’t even give me a straight answer huh?” He pulls out and rolls to his side next to me. I roll to my side too, so we’re face to face—heart to heart. I stare into his eyes and just breathe, coming down from my post orgasm high. I smile at him as he watches me.
Maverick cups my face in his hand. “You say you love me. Why? Why do you love me? How can you love me? Convince me,” he says, curiosity lighting his face. He doesn’t think I’ll be able to do it…with good reason, too. A year ago I would have no idea how to respond. I don’t think I even knew what love really was. He still thinks I don’t. But I do. I trace his lips with my fingers and bring my hand down to rest over his heart.
“I love you because behind the steel plates, narrowed eyes, and perpetually convincing ‘tough guy’ act you put up, you are soft—soft in all the places that matter. I love you because when you love something, you do it with all of your heart. Halfway or a quarter of the way isn’t an option. It’s all or nothing. I love that when you make up your mind, that’s it…the decision is made. I wish I could have an ounce of that ability, but I don’t need it when I’m with you because we balance each other out. I love that when you start a hobby, it becomes your passion. Passion is rare, and I can’t even calculate the amount that hums around you at any given moment. I love the way you look at me like you know exactly what I’m thinking, even when you don’t. I just love the way you look at me—like my eyes or face will fix something inside you. With a man like you, I feel helpless to contribute anything to our relationship. It drives me crazy. Then I realized I don’t have to match you stroke for stroke. All I have to do is love you. And I do. I love you. More than I even thought possible. Being away from you is torture. I want to fight with you and make up with you and live life with only you. I don’t need you in my life, Maverick. I want you in it to make life worth living.”
I’ve shocked Maverick Hart. He’s wide-eyed and gaping when I finish. Holding my head in his hands, he kisses me. Long and deep, just lips and breaths.
Into my mouth he whispers, “Thank you, Win.” It’s his only response other than his kiss. And I’m glad I finally had the nerve to admit it.
I should have told him that the second I figured it out. I know his thank you is all-encompassing and I don’t ask him to explain. When he breaks our kiss, he trails his hand over the side of my body, gliding over my hip and ending between my legs—his fingers rubbing the insane wetness between my thighs. I prop my knee up so he can look.
“It’s like truth serum,” Maverick says. “I like me in you.” He watches as he fingers glide in and out easily. A small sigh escapes my lips, drawing his gaze back to my face.
“I love you, Windsor.”
I lean in and kiss his nose and then his lips. “I love you, T.H.”
My words give him pause, his mouth stops working against mine. A few heartbeats pass, and he begins the kiss again, forcing me to lie back on the pillows as he buries himself inside me at the same time.
His face in my neck, he pushes in and out of me slowly, making love to me instead of fucking me senseless. I’m already hypersensitive so it doesn’t take long before my thighs tingle and I’m clenching around him. He muffles my cries with his lips, watching my eyes as intense waves of pleasure cause me to shiver. He comes seconds later. There are no words between us as his warm body lies on top of mine, our chests heaving, trying to catch our breath.
He licks my neck and inhales by my ear, breathing me in. I’m his. We stay connected as he rolls us to our sides. We fall asleep that way, joined as one and as close as we can possibly be. He’s mine. In all ways.
*****
“I still can’t believe we’re in Vegas. You’re crazy. You know that?”
Maverick chose the one destination that I never would have expected. He’s a recovering alcoholic for God’s sake. Embracing the mindset that he can do anything he wants to do without being tempted, and in order to prove to me that he’s in control of himself and his actions, he chose Sin City. The city of addiction of varying degrees. It’s also one of the few places where people are drunk on the streets at eight a.m…from the night before. I put all of the glittery cocktail dresses he bought to good use at Cirque du Soleil shows and eating at upscale, delicious restaurants. It’s our last night here, and it’s Sunday. I figured Sunday would be a less crazy day here, but I was wrong. I think Saturdays and Wednesdays hold the same appeal.
“Oh, come on. You have to go to Vegas at least once in your life. Plus, what better way to convince you of your magic pill capabilities,” Maverick says, taking my hand and leading me through the insanely loud casino lobby.
I’m still wary about his drinking. How could I not be, with Kathy as my mother? Surprisingly enough Maverick’s told me she’s stopped drinking, too. I try not to talk to her about her issues just to avoid conflict. I guess Maverick didn’t avoid anything during his time spent visiting her and Bill. He’s like a go-between now. I’ve never had that before and it’s…nice. I still don’t think any one person can be a magic pill. Until he proves me wrong, I’ll trust him to do what he thinks he needs to do.
Machines ding and lights suffocate the eyes at every turn, no matter the time of day. We’ve played at the slot machines a few times just because I asked him to. I couldn’t go to Vegas and not pull one of those filthy handles at least once. No alcohol or any other addictive substances, other than my body—multiple times a day—have even piqued his interest. Not even at the restaurants where a glass of fine wine is almost mandatory. If it’s bothering him being in this atmosphere, I would never be able to tell. Maybe that’s the point to all of this. It also makes me wonder how much acting he’s doing. Heaven knows he’s at expert level in that department.
A blackjack table catches his eye. “If you’re good at probabilities and have a great memory, you can beat the dealer. I’ve done it before. It just takes a lot of patience and more nerve than most people have. It’s ballsy to try,” he says, winking at me.
Oh, I bet it’s ballsy. Everything Maverick does is ballsy and unbelievable and honestly…unexpected. Now I’m almost certain SEALs function on a different frequency that no one else can tune into. It’s like a cult. Kind of. It’s definitely out of the realm where most people understand. I like that I don’t fully get him. It keeps me on my toes—like this morning when I woke up naked, wrapped in soft cotton sheets, to the sound of a guitar. He sang me a song that rivaled my first song. This time he did it in a pair of boxers, with his impossibly irresistible bed hair tousled. He looked me straight in the eye the entire time. It’s how he conveys what he’s feeling when normal words, in his opinion, don’t make the cut. I melted like I was standing on the face of the sun.
He points out the different games as we amble through the brightly lit aisles, while I flounce in my five-inch heels and a gold sequined dress that is probably more appropriate for Vanna White. It sparkles a million different colors. It really is beautiful…for a Vegas dress, that is. And Maverick loves it. So much in fact, that he removed it the second I put it on tonight and delicately placed it on a chair before screwing me against the huge plate glass window of our penthouse suite. My knees get a little weak thinking about it.
I glance over at him as we exit outside, the buzz of the people around us significantly quieter than the sirens and bells of the casino. He is so dashing in a tailored suit, his muscular form evident even in clothing. Every single woman in a fifty-yard radius stares. They don’t try to hide it either. Some look to be about sixteen and others look like they could be my Grandma’s age. His appeal knows no bounds. No one is attracted more than I am. Not just to his looks, but to what’s inside that perfectly structured body. His broken heart mending a little bit everyday, his will to move on in the face of loss…that’s the most attractive thing about him. He’s a survivor. We’re two souls cut from the same cloth. I swallow down the lump in my throat. My thoughts always wind back to his letter. How strong his feelings about life and taking chances are cause me to understand him better and love him more.
He grabs my hand in his and smiles just for the sake of smiling. He has no clue how appealing he is. Not anymore, at least. He doesn’t even notice the attention he gets from random strangers, waitresses, or even the girl who checked us in at the hotel front desk. When I mentioned it, he shrugged and said it didn’t matter who looked at him as long as I was looking at him too. I laughed it off. The man is all mine. There are no doubts how in love he is. I think that’s the thing—I know how much he loves me…I feel it. That’s what makes it real. That’s what makes me so confident in every aspect of our relationship. I try to form a mental image of my relationship with Nash, paired with mine with Maverick, and it’s insulting to the years I spent thinking Nash was the one for me. Love equals confidence. Bravery. Leaping without looking. Maverick Hart.
He looks both left and right, eyes scanning our surroundings. “I wanted to show you something,” he admits, peering down at me. “It’s just around the side here. We have time before our dinner reservations.” He pulls me against his side and kisses the top of my head.
“As long as I don’t end up getting road rash, I’m game,” I tease. He tried to cajole me into having sex…in his driveway. Oh, did he try. His baritone laugh wraps around me, making me reconsider road rash as a bad thing.
I wrap my arm around his back and look up. His face is blank, but his eyes are full of worry. He doesn’t know I’m looking. He peeks down and sees my case study.
“Everything okay?” I ask, pulling away to see his whole face. He bites his lip and nods.
“Being around this many people. It’s a cluster. My brain won’t turn off,” he explains, like it’s a normal thing every human being feels. He ushers me toward the side garden by the hotel. We took a walk through here the other morning so he knows where to lead under the dim moonlight. It’s less busy here. There isn’t any alcohol or gambling. It makes sense. The path winds around beautifully manicured bushes and trees that I’m sure require some sort of weird tools to keep up a la Edward Scissorhands.
“Are you going to grow claws and cut my name into this bush? Don’t scar your face though,” I say pointing to a large lion shaped topiary.
“Do you want me to do that?” A light on the walkway lights the side of his devastatingly handsome face. I see one dimple and white teeth and a hazel eye.
I shake my head. “Nah, but I do like that movie,” I say, sitting down on the stone bench. My feet already hurt and we’ve barely walked—the price of freaking beauty. I put a pair of roll up flats in my tiny purse because I do not want to go home with another blister or Band-Aid. As it is, I’ll be wearing UGG boots to work with my skirts for two weeks. I cross my legs and let one of my heels pop out of the shoe for relief.
Maverick looks up toward the hotel and checks his watch, his free hand fidgeting by his side. “Your feet hurt already?” It’s been the ongoing joke all weekend. I look around as small spotlights flick on, lighting the patio that we’re sitting in. I narrow my eyes at the onslaught of white light.
I look up at Maverick. I lie. “My feet are perfect. What did you want to show me? The timers on these lights have perfect timing.” He runs a hand through his hair as he stares at my face, my eyes. Looking for something, no doubt. When he doesn’t speak, I smile. He smirks.
Then he hands me a small jewelry box. My heart starts pounding. Not just pounding, but like rocking against my chest in a crazy rhythm that matches my stomach flipping. My mind goes blank, like absolutely black as I take the box from his palm. When I finally tear my gaze from the black box, I glance at him.
He chuckles. “Go ahead. Open it. You can see it now…in the light,” he says. I watch as he swallows, his neck working. He’s nervous which makes me nervous. With shaking hands I fumble a bit, but eventually flip open the lid.
It’s a necklace.
To be more specific, it’s a gold trident. The same symbol he wears on his uniform—the symbol that marks him a SEAL. It’s an eagle clutching a rifle and a trident. It’s beautiful. Its significance isn’t lost on me. This is Maverick giving me part of his world. It’s him asking me to be a part of it. It’s also him asking me to accept all of him—even this part, the one that takes as much as it gives.
“Flip it over,” he says, clearing his throat. On the wings on either side of the pendant are tiny, engraved coordinates.
“I know what these numbers mean.” I rub one wing. It’s the same longitude and latitude that reside on Mav’s chest. The exact moment he fell in love with me. My stomach flutters as I take in a deep breath. “But what are these?” I rub my thumb on the other side, where the unfamiliar coordinates are etched. I look up to Mav. Scared freaking shitless would be the words I use to describe him right now. His hands shake by his sides, and his eyes are a little glassy. His usual cocky confidence is nowhere to be found—It’s extinct like the dinosaurs. The man standing before me now is stripped of all of his defenses, transparent as glass.
“It’s the exact location you said yes,” he replies, his voice rising at the end. He gestures to the garden around us.
“Said yes to what?” I ask, looking around. Did I miss a question? Is a pack of rabid animals about to attack us? Why is he acting like this? He just gave me a beautiful necklace. Maverick should be happy, secure. Not whatever it is he’s feeling. After peering around the garden I turn my confused gaze to Maverick. He wipes his palms down the sides of his black pants. I glance down at the necklace one more time and back up to him.
Dropping to one knee he swallows once and says, “Will you marry me, Windsor Forbes? Make me the happiest man in the world. Marry me? Say yes. Please say yes.” He pulls out a second beautiful black box from his jacket pocket and opens it. A huge, and I do mean huge, glittering diamond shines up at me. Seconds pass as I try to formulate a response. When his hand wobbles, I throw myself into his arms and clutch him as tightly as I can while still keeping us from falling over. The happy tears come.
I pull back and look into his huge, shining eyes. “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes. A million times yes.” He slips the enormous emerald-cut stone on the finger that it will ostensibly be on for the rest of time. He kisses it, looking at it with such reverence. Then he takes the box from my other hand and clasps the necklace around my neck. Both gleaming objects signaling his claim to me—more importantly they’re symbols of my acceptance of him.
I bring my hand up to inspect the ring more closely. “It’s so beautiful Mav. It’s so beautiful,” I say, voice shaking with raw emotion. “We’re engaged!” I exclaim. The word sounds odd, because I never dreamed Maverick would be proposing to me. But like everything he does, it’s perfect and unexpected in the best way.
“It’s not nearly beautiful enough to compare to you. You said yes,” he says. Of course I said yes. Our love is perfect. “We’re engaged,” he repeats. The excitement on his face is palpable. A kid on Christmas is less excited than Maverick in this moment. I don’t have answers about the future. All we have is right now, though. And right now is the best moment of my life. “I’ll make you happy, Win. I’ll be the husband you deserve. I’ll be a man worth your love. I swear it.”
“I never doubted you would be. Of course I said yes. Was there even a question?” I ask through happy tears. He kisses me, sealing our deal. My ring catches my eye as I cup his jaw. Butterflies invade my stomach. He draws back and looks at me—at my face and my necklace, while running his hands down my arms.
The spotlights fade and the dim lights illuminate our secret garden. Maverick shakes his head, laughing. “There was never, not for one second in time, since the day I met you, a question.”