The Bald Eagle Bistro is probably one of North Ridge’s more trendy dining establishments. I wouldn’t know, because for the weeks I’ve been here, I’ve been either making mac and cheese in my kitchenette or grabbing greasy diner food at Smitty’s.

But today is Delilah’s night off, and so her and Rachel asked if I’d go out with them for dinner and drinks.

I said yes, of course. Yes, because I want to get to know the girls better and yes because I need someone to talk to about what’s been going on between me and Maverick. I don’t even know if they’ll want to hear about it because they probably see Mav as a brother (plus Delilah already told me to watch out for him), but if the opportunity presents itself, I’m taking it.

And I do.

I’ve only been at the high-top table with them long enough to order drinks and take a quick glance at the menu before Delilah says, “So, what’s the deal with you and Mav?”

I take a careful sip of my drink before I answer, wondering what and if I should leave anything out. Like what happened on top of that mountain. Probably the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced without someone actually touching me.

“What do you mean?” I ask, extra innocent.

Rachel smirks at me and nudges Delilah with her elbow. “Look at her. She’s blushing.”

“I don’t blush,” I tell them. “If anything, it’s the drink.” I point at the dirty martini.

“You may not blush, but you still have a tell-all. You look guilty as fuck,” Delilah says. “So, what’s the deal with you and Mav? Still just co-workers?”

“Still just co-workers.”

They both stare at me in dry disbelief.

I crack. If I’m a cookie, I’m crumbling. I sigh. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, anything,” Del says. “Give me the gossip. I’m the only single one here.”

“I’m single,” I tell her imploringly, putting my hand on the table. “Believe me.”

“So you’re not sleeping together?” Rachel asks.

I shake my head. “No. We’re not.” They don’t look like they believe me. “It’s true. I mean, I want to. And he knows it. But we haven’t.”

“He knows it?” Del asks.

I laugh. “Look, I’m not a wallflower when it comes to men or sex. I go after what I want. And I’ve made it perfectly clear to Mav that I want him.”

“And you still haven’t slept together?” Rachel asks, eyes wide. “What the fuck? It’s Mav! He’s a fucking man-whore. He’s slept with half this town.”

Okay. Ouch. I didn’t think that would bother me because I kind of knew that, but even so, it hurts. Jealousy flares inside me.

“Rachel,” Del admonishes her.

“Sorry,” Rachel says. “Really, I didn’t mean to sound so crass. It’s just…I mean, Maverick is Maverick. And you are you. He should be completely obsessed with you.”

“That’s true,” Del says, nodding. “What’s his deal?”

“His deal is that he wants his job more than me, and you know what? I respect that. I feel the same way. I didn’t work my ass off all these years just to throw it all away for a night of mind-blowing sex.” I pause. “That said, I know how to keep a secret. But he’s just too stubborn to try.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Rachel mutters, stabbing a plastic sword in her drink. The server comes by and we put in an order for nachos, spinach and artichoke dip, and popcorn shrimp.

“I’m not saying we haven’t done…stuff,” I eventually say after the server leaves.

They both snap to attention. “What stuff?”

I wiggle my lips, thinking it over. “Well…I made him tell me in explicit detail exactly what he would do to me if there were no rules. And…it was good.” I briefly tell them about the cabin, not going into too much detail.

“I just can’t believe that’s all you’ve done,” Rachel says. “Knowing the Mav I know, he should have fucked you senseless right there.”

“Well he didn’t,” I remind her, feeling slightly annoyed. “Maybe the Mav you know and the Mav I know are different people.”

“That could be,” Del points out. “You work with Mav. You’re not just some hoochie we went to high school with or some girl passing through town. He respects you. That much I can see. And he likes you too. A lot. So maybe that Maverick is new to everyone.”

I shake my head, not wanting to get my hopes up. “Who knows.”

“I just think it’s crazy,” Rachel says. “I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“Well, you’re flawless for one,” Del points out. “I mean, you’re super model perfect. Tall, thin, with great boobs and butt, and your face…god, if you can’t get the guy you want, what hope in hell do I have?”

“You’re gorgeous,” I tell her. “You can have anyone you want.”

“No,” she says, her jaw going firm. “I can’t.”

“Well neither can I,” I say. “Welcome to the club.”

“I just think if I had your looks…I guess I’m just too tall. And too athletic. And my teeth are too big.”

“Oh they are not,” Rachel says to her. “What about me? I’m flat compared to you. You have awesome boobs. And smile. Mine is crooked.”

“Am I supposed to share my flaws here too?” I ask, my eyes volleying between the two of them. “Because believe me, I have them. Everyone has them. But that’s not what tonight is about, is it?”

They both look at me with blank expressions.

“I’m not going to join the pity party and throw myself under the bus so you guys can feel good about yourselves for a second,” I continue. “Because, guess what, it won’t actually make you feel any better. So fuck this sharing of the flaws. Why do women always do this? We should be celebrating our strengths. Let’s stop talking about our cellulite, let’s start talking about how amazing we are.” I pick up my martini glass and raise it in the air. “Here’s to Delilah and her gorgeous smile and Rachel and her stunning eyes and me and my tight, round ass.”

At that, both of them burst out laughing, barely able to hold up their glasses. But we still manage to cheers.

I should probably go home, but after the bistro closes Del takes a cab back to her place and Rachel is picked up by Shane. My house is in town so it’s not far to walk from any place really.

But while I’m heading home, I decide I’m not ready to hibernate in my dark little basement suite. So I keep walking. The weather is doing this weird thing where it finally feels like winter is over again, though Mav and everyone else warns me that there will be one last brutal storm just as we hit April. Still, it’s warm and the snow is almost all melted now. Not in the mountains or even at Ravenswood Ranch, but here in town it’s all slushy and gross, but at least it’s not ice.

With the balmy night air on my face, I decide to walk to the office. I don’t think anyone will be there, which is good. It will give me time to go over maps and read up on past cases. Just something to make me feel like I’m still learning, that I’m catching up, that I’m not complacent. It’s a tough business to advance in because every single case is different so you’re always using different skills. Every now and then something will catch you off guard, but it isn’t because you’re ill-prepared.

Anyway, it doesn’t hurt for me to do some extra prep and I figure, in my tipsy state of mind, that it’s better to do it at night since I won’t have weirdos like Neil and Jace watching over me. If it was Tony and Tim that would be great, since I really like them and they genuinely seem to want to teach me the ropes.

But when I get to the office, I see a light on inside. I haven’t been here at eleven p.m. before, so I’m not sure if the office always has a light on, just in case, like a fucking lighthouse or something like that. Then again, it’s the government and they’d shut down that shit so fast.

Then I see Maverick’s truck outside and I know he’s inside.

And I stop. Right there on the street. Because I know, I know, if I go inside that building right now, that small beige square building with vinyl siding, on the corner of Main and Seventh, that I won’t come out of there the same person.

Something will happen.

And after everything that’s lead up to this moment, I have to ask myself if that’s what I want.

But of course it’s what I fucking want. It’s what I’ve wanted from the start.

I keep walking. I was prepared to use my key, but the door opens when I try the knob.

It’s empty inside with only a small desk lamp on over Mav’s work station.

There’s a shuffle from the back, from the room with all our gear.

I quietly shut the front door behind me and head down the aisle toward it.

I poke my head around the corner and look in the room, all the backpacks, rope, and gear hanging from hooks on the walls.

Mav’s broad back is to me. He’s wearing a grey thermal shirt that stretches over his muscles, showing off every hard line. He’s trying to untangle a mess of climbing rope that looks like it would take days. Last time I had that task, I gave up after five minutes, whining in frustration and passing it onto Tim who took the job without a second thought. Patience is not my virtue. In fact, I don’t think I have any virtues at all.

Except for sexual ones. But in the grand scheme of things, I don’t think they count.

I debate clearing my throat, giving some kind of sign that I’m standing behind him. It’s weird that I’m overthinking this at all. Who cares?

But right now, every single thing I do is taking on extra weight. Like it will all have consequences, all mean something.

So I stand there, and I’m pretty sure Mav knew I was here because he turns around so slowly, and when he sees me he doesn’t seem all that surprised.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I tell him back, leaning casually against the doorframe, even though right now I feel anything but casual. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I work here,” he says, lifting up the pile of rope. “And apparently no one else does.”

I take a few steps into the room, trying to saunter casually, acting like my feet aren’t filled with lead. “I hope that’s not my fault. I passed my work off to Tim.”

“You mean to tell me you didn’t want to spend hours unraveling these, washing them, and drying them?”

“We have to wash and dry them too?” I ask, joking.

He shakes his head, runs a dirty hand over his jaw. “So what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to go home. Thought I would study terrain.”

“Are you drunk?”

I shrug. “Not really. I went out for drinks with Rachel and Del.”

“Ah,” he says with a nod. “And how did that go?”

“It was good,” I tell him. “I like them. But don’t worry, we split up before things got crazy.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “I can only imagine what crazy would be like with you.”

I can show you, I think. I take another step toward him, then another, until I’m right beside him. I take the rope from his large hands. “Need help?”

“Sure,” he says, but it comes out throaty and he’s right there, so close, and I can feel his eyes as they bore down on the top of my head. I feel it, the change in the room, like the ropes themselves are wrapping around my ankles and his, going higher and higher, keeping us tighter, more confined.

“So…” he says gruffly. “You want to learn the ropes.”

I try to laugh, I do, because it’s funny and he’s making a joke, and if I laugh it will dispel the weird tension in the room that grows thicker the closer I move to him.

But I don’t laugh because it’s stuck in my lungs.

Because my breath is stolen away.

Because Maverick’s hands are at my face, both large palms cupping my cheeks, and I’m staring up at him with big eyes, unable to catch up with what’s happening. What’s happening? How is this happening? How is he holding my face and staring down at me like I’m the final prize?

But he is. His glacier eyes burn into me with such intensity that the air catches in my chest and then the world around us seems to shrink, seems to whittle down, until it’s just his skin against my skin and our eyes smoldering in an endless gaze and then he’s leaning down, pressing his full lips against mine.

I open my mouth, his tongue slides in, hot and sweet and instantly I’m dissolving. His lips are soft yet firm, moving slowly at first, almost tentative, until it starts to build and build, growing more frantic by the second.

He’s kissing me. He’s actually fucking kissing me.

And fuck, he’s good. He’s so good. This is a kiss that I feel all the way in my toes, that snakes its way to my core, that makes me clench like crazy and I know I’m instantly wet. All from a kiss, his kiss.

Because it’s not just a kiss. I would have thought after the other night, hearing his dirty words as I got off to them, that kissing would be an afterthought. But it’s not. It’s everything. Somehow he already knows how to kiss me perfectly. Our mouths move together so fluidly, it’s like dancing. I could do this forever.

I think we might devour each other.

His grip on my face tightens, his fingers pressing into my skin and I can feel his urgency, the same urgency that’s running through me now, causing my hands to disappear into his hair. It’s short but thick, and there’s enough for me to grab and tug.

“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth and makes my nerves dance like I’ve tripped over a livewire. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh God, Riley.”

I whimper in response, unable to get any of the thoughts out of my head and out my mouth. I don’t even think I have many thoughts, other than the disbelief that this is finally happening.

“Do you see now?” he says, pulling his lips away just enough so they still brush my mouth as he speaks. With one hand moving to the back of my neck and holding me in place, he takes his other and wraps it over my wrist, strong. He brings my palm over to his crotch and presses my hand there so I can feel the stiff, inflexible length of him outlined in denim. “Do you feel how much I want you?”

A wave of heat flashes under my skin as I hold him, so thick, so hard. I’m throbbing, wanting this so fucking bad. I’m starving for it, this fucking beast in his pants fighting to come out.

“Condom?” I ask, breathless.

I squeeze him as he chokes out the words, “Yes. I have one.”

That’s all I needed to know. I let go of him and step back and start stripping.

He stands there, surrounded by rope, his eyes traveling over me as I remove articles of clothes. First boots and socks, then my jeans, then my underwear, moving my way up.

His eyes fix on how bare I am and silently I’m thankful my hair is baby fine and the wax I had a few weeks ago is still holding on.

“Look at you,” he whispers roughly, his gaze coming up from between my legs, to meet my eyes. Sky blue. Glacier. The deepness of ice. Such cold-colored eyes are lighting me on fire.

I remove my sweater, my tank top, my thin bralette, and then I’m completely naked in front of him. He doesn’t even know where to look now. My tits, the tattoos on my arms and ribs, my stomach. He’s taking me all in, the look on his face growing more intense, more carnal, by the minute.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he growls.

I grin and grab my breasts, teasing my nipples until they’re hardened peaks. “I’m perfect for you.”

“You are unreal,” He shakes his head in disbelief, and then looks over my shoulder at the metal table we sort our gear on. “Get on the table.”

I raise my brow. “Okay.” I’m game. I turn around and climb on quickly with ease (thank God, because this is not the sort of thing that looks good when you’re naked).

“On my knees?” I ask him as I’m on my knees, ass in his direction. I give him a sly look over my shoulder, playing the coquette, and wiggle my butt.

He opens his mouth to speak, licks his lips instead. Then, “On your back.”

I lie down on my back, stare up at the ceiling. The metal is cold, biting into my skin, such a contrast to all the heat I have inside, the hot blood running through my veins.

I hear the slide of rope and raise my head to see him approaching the table, the climbing rope in his hands.

A thrill shoots through me and I swear I’m wet to my thighs already.

He stands at the end of the table, his expression so serious, like he’s putting a lot of thought into this.

“You’re still clothed,” I point out. “This isn’t really fair.”

“It’s fair,” he says and reaches out, wrapping his big, wide hands around my waist and pulling me down along the table until my ass is almost hanging off. I immediately slam my palms down on the surface to keep me from sliding off, my abs working overtime.

He stares down at my pussy and slowly, carefully, parts my legs further.

“So fucking unreal,” he says again. “Perfectly pink, tight, wet. You’re so gorgeous.”

More compliments. I’m not even sure how to handle them now. “My body is ready,” I joke.

He grins and then quickly ties one of my calves to the leg of the table before doing the other. He’s so comfortable with this, handling the ropes like it’s an extension of himself. I know he’ll handle my body the same way.

After my legs are tied apart, spread eagle, he comes around the head of the table and says, “Arms above your head.”

I put them back and he wraps my wrists together before tying the rope to the table.

“I’m surprised you’re letting me do this,” he whispers as he works.

“You know I’ll let you do anything,” I tell him.

“Good,” he says. “It’s about time I’m in control.”

I want to point out that he’s been in control since the day I met him, constantly thwarting my advances, but I don’t want to ruin his buzz.

As if to make a point, he tightens the rope, pulling my arms an inch further, my back arching, nipples growing even harder as they point to the ceiling.

I moan as the discomfort morphs into bliss.

This is so fucking insane!

And yet feels so damn right.

He looks over me like I’m a feast and he can’t figure out where to have his first bite. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so desired before in all my life.

Then something dark comes across his face, his features tightening as he starts to run his fingers down my collarbone, between my breasts, over the flat plane of my stomach, before settling between my legs.

“Bet you didn’t do this with Neil,” he says, trailing his finger over my clit.

I blink at him in surprise while shivering from his touch. “Why, what?”

He shrugs. “I’m going to fuck that guy out of you. Like it never happened.”

Oh boy. “Mav, it pretty much never did happen. I’m not going to go into details about it, right here and now when I’m naked and tied to a table, but believe me, you have nothing to worry about.”

He shakes his head, jaw tense, eyes burning. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine from the start.”

I don’t mind his alpha caveman talk. It turns me on. I’m his, he’s mine. But still I say, “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

He frowns. “Don’t make me gag you.”

Oh, I am definitely down for that.

I grin.

He pushes one finger inside me. My grin disappears as my eyes close, my mouth falls open. I moan. With my legs forced apart, my pussy bared wide, his finger feels extra large and intrusive. Extra dirty.

“Do you like that?” he asks hoarsely. He pushes in two fingers. “How about that?”

I exhale, my breath shaking. “Yes.”

“This?” Another finger is pushed inside. Three of them now, going deeper, deeper. I spread around him, squeezing as he goes. “I can’t wait until that’s my cock.”

I open my eyes to look at him. “Then hurry the fuck up.”

Though his eyes are blazing, he bites back a smile. “That’s it. I warned you.”

He leaves my view and when he comes back he’s holding my lacy black bralette in his hands. He rubs the thin material between his fingers. “I don’t even know how this is able to hold those up.” He gestures to my full breasts.

“Underwire is the devil,” I tell him before he shoves the silky material into my mouth.

Well, this is new.

Satisfied that I can’t speak, even though I could spit the bra out if I wanted to—and I don’t—he runs his rough hands down my thighs, squeezing and kneading them before he settles between my legs and drops down. I lift my head, staring at the sight of him there and he stares up at me from beneath his dark brows.

I watch, and he doesn’t break eye contact as his flat, wide tongue starts licking me up and down, like I’m a melting ice cream cone.

I can’t keep my head up for long.

It goes back against the table as his tongue sends wave after wave of fire through my body, the heat spinning in the middle and radiating outward. “Mav,” I cry out softly, muffled, wishing I could grip the table, wishing my legs could crush his face. But I’m splayed open, so bare and vulnerable, at the mercy of his every move.

“So wet, such a good girl,” he murmurs against me and I’m raising my hips, bucking into his face, trying to get purchase. “Greedy too, but that doesn’t surprise me.”

“I’m going to come,” I try to say through the bra, breathless, on the verge. My words come out muffled.

“What was that?”

I moan, my head lolling back and forth, trying to sort through the sensations running through me.

“You want to come?” He pushes his finger inside me again, razing against my G-spot.

“Oh God!” I cry out, nearly spitting out the bralette.

“You’re ready to go, wound so fucking tight. I wish you could see this, how wet you are for me, how beautiful you look.”

But while he goes on about how beautiful I look, I’m straining against the ropes, trying to get my hips up, trying to drive his finger in deeper. I want it, need it, more than I’ve ever needed anything. The drive to come is overwhelming. I might be going crazy.

“Please,” I try to say.

“What?”

I spit out the bralette, gasp for air. “Please,” I say loudly.

“What do you want?” he asks. His words are husky and I feel them in my skin. I want his words all over me, his mouth, his tongue.

“Your tongue. Tongue fuck me like you said you wanted to.”

“I really like hearing you beg.”

“I think I’ve been doing nothing but begging.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. I just feel the hot lick of his tongue, the perfect amount of pressure swirling around my clit and then I’m coming, a trail of sparks that quickly travels outward until I’m exploding like dynamite.

“Oh God, Mav,” I yell, lost to the shockwaves, unable to control my voice as it bounces around the room. “Mav, oh, fuck.”

“God my name sounds so good coming from your lips.”

I know he’s watching me come and I hope he’s getting a good show because I have no idea what’s going on. The world spins out like a pinwheel and then I hear clothes being thrown to the ground and I raise my head in time to see Maverick taking off his clothes.

Dear. Fucking. God.

I don’t think it’s just the lingering orgasm clouding my judgment, but his body is even more unreal than I thought possible. The man is built like a god, like some powerful, inhuman, immortal from the past, one who rules seven kingdoms and rides a chariot into the clouds. That kind of god.

Every single inch of his body is ripped. Taut. Hard. Perfect.

Tattoos of all sorts, geometric designs and words and animals decorate his torso, his chest, his arms, his shoulders. It’s crazy to think that I’ve been around him so much, working with him constantly, and yet I’ve never had a glimpse of these. Fucking winter weather, all these sweaters and jackets kept on hiding the goods.

And what goods they are. He’s pure, beastly, godly, sculpted perfection from head to toe.

He knows it too.

How can he not?

Especially when he has his python of a cock in his hands, thick and dark with need and ready to do some serious damage. I mean, just look at that cocky smile on his face. He knows.

He expertly rolls on a condom and then saunters over, his giant dick swinging as he comes, looking so big even against the vastness of his thighs.

He stops at the end of the table, between my legs, where I’m still pulsing, and grips the base of his cock, rubbing the fat tip up and down over me. I’m sensitive, too sensitive, and I cry out, cringing, but he’s persistent, knowing what I want and need even if I don’t, and then it fades into want. I find myself aching for him all over again, the need inside me winding and winding and winding.

For someone who was quite talkative earlier, Mav has certainly gone quiet. I stare at his face, taken by the pure lust burning out of his eyes as he looks at me. My skin grows hot and tight, impatient under his gaze.

He puts one hand at my waist, gripping me so hard I can barely breath, as he positions himself against me. I’m tightly tied up, I’m not going anywhere, but even so his grip doesn’t loosen.

There’s little time to think about it.

With one swift movement he pushes himself in and all the air leaves my lungs, my mouth is open and gasping and the sensation is too much, he’s too much, that I don’t know how to handle this.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groans, still sliding in. “You’re so damn tight, like a fist. How’d you get so tight, little minx?”

He exhales, his breath shuddering, his back arched and head back, displaying his Adam’s apple. He then looks down at me through long lashes and heavy lids. “Are you okay?”

I nod, but I’m not sure if I am, I’m so tense and he’s so big and I’m so tied up and…

He pulls out, slowly, inch by inch, then pushes back in, over and over until…

Oh, fuck, this is good.

So crazy good.

I’m no longer tense, not in that way. I stretch around him, feeling impossibly full, like I can barely contain him. The feel of his cock inside me, so stiff and hot and wide, he eventually becomes the perfect fit, moving inside me like it’s second nature, like our bodies know each other, like we do this particular dance every night.

With each push, I feel like we’re fusing, going deeper in time and space, not just into each other. Somehow he knows exactly how to work my body, to give me what I need.

My neck is starting to hurt but I want to keep watching him because he’s watching me, staring in lewd fascination at his cock as it disappears deep inside me. His brow contorts, full lips fall open on a moan and he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, faster.

His grip is still rough and he’s fucking me hard, wild, his hips slamming against the edge of the table. It’s starting to move across the floor, an inch here and there, and I’m getting fucking pounded, over and over again. I’ll have bruises around my wrists and ankles tomorrow, probably my waist and thighs too.

So. Good.

“Sweet Jesus,” Mav croaks hoarsely. Sweat is starting to trickle down his face, dripping onto my stomach. The whole room vibrates with the sound of sex, our sex, his quick, heavy breaths, the slap of skin, the scrape of the table legs, my heart fluttering in my ears. Faster, harder, deeper, Mav doesn’t give in, doesn’t give up. He fucks me like it’s his job, like he’s trying to save me.

This man is a goddamn national treasure.

“You’re coming again,” he tells me and slips his hand over my clit.

I immediately cry out, so hair-trigger sensitive.

“Your noises will be the end of me, you know that,” he goes on, and then starts grunting rhythmically with each rut. “Your wet, dirty little moans. Fuck, Riley. I don’t have long.” His voice breaks off as he groans again.

I feel like the universe is expanding inside me. There isn’t even enough time to warn him that I’m coming but it doesn’t matter because the second I start to let go, my back arching, my hips fucking into his, he lets out a low guttural groan that vibrates through me and then his head goes back, his pumps slow and he shudders endlessly, coming and coming.

Once again, I’m flung out into stardust, my heart bursting like a firework, my world all colors and shapes that feel like surrender. Eventually his grip on my waist loosens and my skin tingles. He probably left a palm print behind.

So fucking…good.

I can’t even…

Seconds tick past. Maybe minutes. I can only stare up at the ceiling, waiting for my breath to return, for my heart to slow, for my brain to stop spinning. I feel fucking drugged, like I don’t even know where I am. But I know where I am. Tied to a metal table in the storage room and Maverick is still inside me. I’m still pulsing around him but even that eventually slows.

He exhales loudly and pulls out and suddenly I’m hollow, bereft. The feeling is so unwelcome that it snaps me back to reality. I hear him roll off the condom and toss it in the trash and then he starts to undo the ropes.

“You okay?” he asks me, as he does the ones around my wrists, peering at me with such tenderness and concern that I feel like I’m thrown for a loop once again.

I swallow, nod, say “yes” but it’s just my lips moving.

He gives me a soft smile and then slides his arm under my back, slowly helping me up to a sitting position.

The room spins some more as the orgasm still holds on, sticky-sweet. If this was my bedroom, I’d insist he stay over. But it’s not. It’s our work. It’s a room lined with tents and sleeping bags and numerous skiing packs and hiking backpacks and boots and helmets and ropes and emergency kits and skis and snowboards and snowshoes and it’s everything I’ve worked so hard for. To be at a place like this that has stuff like this.

And then it hits me, the fact that we just had sex at the office, where anyone could have walked in and seen us. We’ve been fighting against the rules for so long and when we finally throw the rulebook out the window, we lose all common sense.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me as he frees my legs. “Did that hurt?”

I shake my head. “We could have been caught.”

“It’s after midnight now,” he says but I see the worry on his brow.

“It doesn’t matter. Someone could have come in here and seen us. And then we’d be out of a job.”

He rubs his lips together, thinking. “Okay. I guess we got carried away.”

“Yeah,” I say. It shouldn’t happen again. I can’t believe those words are even in my head but they’re there. And they are right. It shouldn’t happen again. But I’m going to bet it probably will. “We just need to be more careful next time.”

Mav tilts his head, looking me over. “Next time?”

“I don’t think you’re done with me yet,” I say, getting off the table, and feeling vulnerable naked for the first time. I start gathering up my stuff so I don’t see the expression on his face. I don’t want him to think it’s over, to want that.

“You’re right,” he says, pulling on his jeans. Relief runs through me. “I’m only getting started with you.”

I nod at the trash can. “Then you probably shouldn’t put that there. Who knows what people will think if someone finds it.”

“Right,” he says, running his hand over his face as he looks at me, his eyes growing wild.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, going over to the trash can and fishing the condom back out.

“What?” I repeat, folding my arms across my chest.

He comes over to me and, with his free hand, grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me hard.

“You,” he says as he pulls his lips away. “Just…you.”

He holds me in place, his earnest eyes searching mine, a million words tumbling behind them, things he’s not saying.

Then he lets go. “Need a ride home?”

I nod.

Ten minutes later I’m dropped off at my place, crawling into bed and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

I fall asleep and I’m still not sure. All I know is that I’ve never felt more alive and Maverick bleeds into my dreams.