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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rumor has it she mugged him at the grocery store.

Ainsley

“ I ’m ready to leave.”

Why is he talking?

Pulling his face closer, I smother any other words he attempts saying.

Currently, my legs are wrapped around his waist, my back against the wall of the Crush It room that we’ve completely abandoned.

Maverick and I both silently agreed that grinding against the wall with his tongue down my throat was way better at releasing tension than smashing old electronics.

“Ainsley.” He tries prying me off and setting me on my feet.

I have no shame. “Nooooo.”

His chest rumbles with laughter. “Not here. Let’s go home.”

Home.

Yes, home sounds good.

Releasing my legs from their vice grip, I allow Maverick to place me on my feet, which honestly, are a little wobbly, but they manage to keep me upright and that’s all I’m asking at this point.

“You good?” he asks, tucking away his massive boner.

It’s tacky if I ask if he wants to disappear into a bathroom stall, right? “Not really, but I’ll manage until we get home,” I answer honestly.

I exhale a breath of pent-up frustration. No sense in lying. I want this man. I’ve wanted him since I used his shampoo and slept on his amazingly comfortable sofa. I don’t even care that this may be a one-time thing. I can live with that.

“Let’s go. We need food first,” he clips out.

I groan out something that sounds a lot like blatant disappointment. “I’m good without food,” I add just in case he is too.

He pulls us out of the room. “We’ll pick up a frozen mac and cheese for afterward then, yeah?”

He’s my spirit animal.

Well, not my animal. He’s my spirit human and I might just have to stay indebted to him so he can never get rid of me.

A million and three years later we arrive home. Maverick has been quiet and I wonder if he’s come to his senses. Let’s be honest, I’m a mess fresh off the breakup boat. I’m not key banging material.

Keys are shoved into my hand as he shuffles the bags on his arms. “You want me to unlock the door?” I ask. Am I a little shocked? Yes. He’s never let me unlock the door or even have a key.

“Do you want to hold these bags of macaroni and cheese while I do it?” he asks sarcastically.

Right. His hands are full, which is totally his fault. He said to get whatever I wanted at the store. What I wanted was ice cream and dick with a side of mac and cheese. So here we are.

“You should have paced yourself with the junk food. I read you should be eating a heart healthy diet,” I tease. I really did go overboard. What can I say? Destroying things had my appetite through the roof.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Open the door, smartass.”

I fumble with the lock and I feel his body press against my back like a warning. His breaths fan along my neck as he leans his head down, the motion angling my head to the side so he can get to the sensitive spot behind my ear. Oh hell. He’s going to make me come against the soul-stained door.

A teasing comment about such plays on my lips, but I swallow it down when he pushes his erection against my ass. No, now is not the time to kill the mood with comedic commentary. His dick, like me, is hungry, and we need to get inside before I let him ravage me on the cheap linoleum.

Somehow I manage to put the key in the hole and twist just before Maverick shoves me inside, drops the bags of frozen mac and cheese on the floor, and pins me against the wall.

His watch beeps like crazy, but he never looks down. Instead, all his attention is focused on me. This is it. We are so doing this.

A ball of nerves sits in my throat. I swallow to work it down. “I need you to promise me something.”

He doesn’t even give me a second to finish. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“The answer is still no. You know what to do if you want a promise.”

Ugh. “Fine. Give me a card.”

I’m not even shocked.

The corner of his lip twitches. “I’m afraid my hands are otherwise engaged. You want a promise, you know what to do.”

I eye his hands at my face, caging me in. Mmm. I kind of like feeling caught.

“Fine.” I will get my own IOU in his back pocket, right over his firm ass. Really, I probably could live without the promise, but I don’t want to take that risk. Not yet, at least.

Deep breath. You totally can do this, Ainsley. Tucker may not have had an ass like this, but they all feel the same.

My fingertips graze along the sides of his body. I can see his shirt indent with his quick intake of breath. “I think maybe this should come off,” I suggest, tugging at his shirt. “It’s the most effective way for me to get to your pocket.” Not really, but I want to see all of him. Sue me .

I’m prepared for a cocky smile or even a laugh, but one never comes. Instead, Maverick drops his hand, trailing his finger along my cheek and down my body until he’s able to reach the hem of his T-shirt. He bunches a handful of fabric in his fist and drags it to where my hands rest at his ribs.

“Go ahead, take it off.”

Swallowing, I take a look at the tribal tattoos peeking out from underneath. Yes, this is definitely the best way to his pocket.

Painstakingly slow, I lift his shirt over his head. He even leans down to help and that makes me feel short for the first time in my life.

“Okay, so”—I clear my throat—“now that we have that out of the way.”

Gah, I just need time to stare at the exquisiteness of Maverick. He’s all muscle and tats like a good boy wrapped in a really edgy package.

“The cards are in my pocket in case you forgot,” he teases.

“I knew that. I was just giving your heart time to pace itself.” Total lie and he probably knows it.

He chuckles. “My heart can handle you, I promise.”

I almost tell him that’s a free promise he just made me, but I don’t because I really liked hearing the words. I’m scared if I bring it up he might back out of this whole situation and honestly, I think that will devastate me.

Hiding a smile, I reach around his back and let my cheek rest against his pecs. Almost lazily, I slide my fingertips down the planes of his back until the smooth skin stops and the denim begins.

“You said your pocket, right?” I ask for no other reason than to keep my hands on his ass.

“Uh-huh.” His voice is strained and when his head lies on top of mine, I know it’s just as torturous for him as it is for me.

I reach into his back pocket and find the marker and the cards while grazing—possibly squeezing—the firmest ass cheek I’ve ever felt .

All butts definitely do not feel the same.

“I might need two favors,” I mutter against his chest.

“What’s the first one?” He pulls back and I push the cards between us.

Swallowing, I uncap the marker and place a card to his chest. “First, if this is a terrible idea—which it probably is—I need you to not kick me out if I suck, or you don’t want to see my face again. At least not until your guy secures me another place.”

After a moment, I look up to see his nod and notice his jaw clenching hard enough he may crack a tooth.

“Maverick?”

“Fine,” he grits out like it pained him to agree, which is weird. But whatever, Maverick is an odd one. Maybe that’s why I like him so much.

I write the letters IOU, attempting to mimic his serial killer handwriting, and then toss it behind him, hoping it lands somewhere proper, like the trash.

“And the other favor?” he prompts.

“Oh, yeah.”

I meet his gaze and grin. Maybe he’ll lighten up. The moment has become pretty tense.

“You can’t grab my ass.”

He rears back.

“Yeah, after feeling yours I’m a little ashamed. Clearly those few squats I do every year have not done me any favors.”

“No,” he snaps, a tiny, baby hint of a grin forming. “I won’t honor that favor.”

Fine, but I warned him. If he’s disappointed, he’s disappointed.

With that game-ending remark, he plucks the cards from my hand and tosses them behind him where they scatter along the floor. I’ll put them in the trash later.

“Do we need to put up the grocer—” His mouth seals over mine and his tongue pushes in without warning, consuming me in his tight hold .

What was I saying? Right. I don’t care.

Maverick hoists my body up and my legs go around his waist like second nature. We’re on the move, wasting no time finding a solid surface. “Wait!” I cry out. “Not in here! Not on my bed.”

He pauses for just a moment, but then he turns around and heads toward the living room and to the best sofa ever. “We are burning your mattress,” he mutters, setting me down carefully and then yanking my knees apart so he can kneel between them.

Ooh. I kind of like Mr. Lexington on his knees—feels all queen like.

“I want you to show me what you learned from your book,” he drawls all cute and curious while tugging at my skinny jeans.

I’m full-on smiling at his effort to get my jeans off—I plan to pretend like he didn’t mention the whole book thing. “You might need to put some force behind those pulls. These jeans are a little snug.” I’ll admit, I had to jump a few times just to get them on.

With a firm tug, Maverick has my jeans around my ankles in a matter of seconds.

“Wow. You’re seriously good at that. Maybe I need a standing favor for when I’ve moved out.

I could come over, you could yank off my jeans, and we could eat mac and cheese before I go back home.

” I shrug. “It’ll work out for everyone. ”

A muscle flexes in his jaw.

Wait. Is he mad? I meant it as a joke. “You know, because you’ll get your privacy back soon when I move and?—”

“Shut up.” His words are biting and a tad bit growly. Whoa. What did I say?

“Gotcha,” I try soothing his irritation. “I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “And nervous. I’m totally ruining the moment.”

It’s the truth. I’ve only ever been with Tucker and since he cheated on me, I can’t help but to live with a nagging doubt that I wasn’t good enough somehow.