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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Rumor has it Tucker begged for his life.

Maverick

T he sea lion excursion left Ainsley and me exhausted, but we still managed to stop for ice cream before going home. I couldn’t leave that off. If my goal was to make her happy today, it most definitely had to include ice cream and mac and cheese—but we’ll save that for tomorrow.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says, lifting my chin from looking at my phone. “Maybe you want to join me?” Her smile is honest and real and so damn sexy before it flattens. “Like in a minute. Give me time to shave and condition my hair so I look sexy and not like a prickly raccoon.”

A laugh burst out of me. “I think I can do that,” I manage out.

If there’s one thing I love about this girl, it’s that she’s wholly herself.

“Good,” she manages a little shyly. “Give me about ten minutes.”

I nod when she lets go and watch her dart down the hall and into the bathroom. Ten bucks says she uses my razor.

Back to my phone, I’m answering Pops’s emails about potential candidates to assist me. Although I’m happy he isn’t cutting me off entirely, I’m not so sure about bringing in a stranger to work on my accounts with me. I’m a little territorial. Okay, I’m a lot territorial.

My fingers fly across the screen. Paul is a hard no. I don’t care if he did graduate from Harvard and has been running an independent brokerage for eight years. He looks like he farts in paper bags for fun.

I decide to text Pops instead of finishing the email.

Me: Are you sure I can’t keep managing alone? We only have two months.

I get an immediate response.

Pops: Pops said stop texting him because he doesn’t do this texting thing and therefore has to get me to help him, which ticks him off—his words not mine—because I’m a nosy little shit and get all into his business. He said be happy you got off as easy as you did and pick someone. Coop.

I grin. I had missed them, more than I knew. I start to text back when a knock on the door stops me.

Who the fuck dares to disturb me this late at night?

I yank open the door and there stands the asshole of my eye.

“Uh . . . hi. Is Ainsley here?”

Is Ainsley here? Is he fucking kidding me?

I hold Tucker’s gaze as I push the door closed without acknowledging him at all. This prick has done enough damage to Ainsley.

“Wait!” He shoves his foot in the door, stopping it from closing.

I look down at his expensive loafers and shorts that rest at the thigh. What a prick.

“What the fuck do you want?” I block his view so he can’t peer around and catch a glimpse of Ainsley or the apartment.

“I would like to see Ainsley,” he says after taking a breath and standing taller.

“I don’t know an Ainsley,” I say flatly. “Try next door.”

I go to shut the door once again when he stops me cold. “Come on, Maverick. Let’s not play this game. Let me see my girlfriend.”

I snort. “Your girlfriend?” I arch my brows at his boldness. “ Don’t forget our arrangement, Tucker. You don’t want to get in over your head.” I sneer. “At least any more than you already are.”

Reminding him of the debt he owes me seems to shake some sense into him.

“I’m sorry. I just need to talk to her for a minute. I promise I’ll leave after.”

Not going to fucking happen.

My expression bored and unreadable, I ask, “And what would you like to discuss with your ex -girlfriend? Are you here to ask her to be your best man or Tonya’s maid of honor?

I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.” I purposefully get his girlfriend’s name wrong.

I don’t want him thinking they matter in the least.

He bows his head almost remorsefully.

“No. I’m not here to hurt her. I just want to talk to her.”

Don’t care. “I’m sure you do. Unfortunately, I can't allow that to happen.”

She’s finally moved on from this prick. He isn’t coming back into her life. Not now. Not ever. She’s fucking mine.

“Please. I only need a minute of her time.”

“Her time is expensive.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you implying that in order to speak to her, I have to go through you?”

See? He finally caught on.

I tap the doorframe. “I knew you had to be smarter than you looked.”

“You can’t keep me from her. This is her apartment too!”

Aww. Look at him trying to stand up to me.

“You get through this door just like anyone else,” I tell him firmly.

“A favor?” He makes a scoffing noise like he isn’t making that mistake again.

I offer him a malicious grin. “Please. You have nothing I want anymore.”

He swallows, his throat working as his eyes dart around, attempting to peer around me, because that’s just the type of person he is. A loser. Pussy. Now he realizes why he should have never gotten involved with me. I never play fair.

I reach into my back pocket for a card and a Sharpie, twirling the card between my fingers and drawing his eyes to my hands. “But maybe I can make an exception. Maybe you do still have something I can take.”

Guys like Tucker aren’t the type of guys to owe me favors.

It’s important to them to never get their hands dirty.

However, he did it once. Maybe he’ll do it again before he goes off to med school, buys a house in the Hamptons, marries a debutante, and has a couple kids with his mistress.

Guys like Tucker are dirty in their own way.

Too bad I’m not interested in anything else he has to offer.

I already have her. And now, he knows it.

“Time’s a ticking, Tucker. How bad do you want to come in? ”

He sighs and steps back, darting his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re a real piece of work, Lexington.”

I don’t move, I simply continue to flip the card over in my hand. It is what it is. Ainsley is under my roof and she is mine now. Tucker has nothing to say that she needs to hear. He had his chance and he fucked it up.

I don’t plan on giving him the opportunity to make it right.

Regrettably, Ainsley could use the closure, but what happens if that closure comes at a price to me?

They were together for years. She and I aren’t officially together because I’ve continued to remind her that we are simply a contract.

Sure, today was different, but I don’t know if one sea lion encounter makes up for years of memories with Fuckface.

Call me a coward, but I can’t risk her talking to him. She might forgive him and . . . it doesn’t matter. Turning Tucker away is for her own good.

“Whatever,” Tucker says, scoffing. “Enjoy my leftovers.”

I slam the door in his face and step back into the kitchen, fighting the rage that tries to consume me.

“Who was at the door? ”

Ainsley is wrapped in a towel, this beehive sort of thing wrapped around her head. She looks like a badly wrapped Christmas present.

I step into her. “Another desperate soul. I took care of it.” I touch the softness of her cheek.

“I got tired of waiting,” she says, sliding her hands underneath my shirt.

Her skin is slick, damp, and red against mine.

“It’s a good thing you got out when you did,” I tease, eyeing the pink skin on her shoulders. “Otherwise you might have had third degree burns.” Tugging at the white knot at her chest, I expose her tits. “How hot did you have the shower?”

“It's not that hot,” she argues. “I just turn red very easily.” That's for sure, except normally it’s her cheeks and not her whole body.

“Hmm,” I hum. “Maybe you should cool off.” I wrench the towel away, exposing her fully.

“Maverick!” she teases, but she sounds excited. She invited me to shower with her for a reason. She wanted to taunt me with her nakedness.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. With the temperature you keep the air set on, I’ll be sure to cool off in no time.” She crosses her legs and each of her hands attempts to cover her tits.

Honestly, I don’t give a fuck about cooling her off.

All I see is pink skin that reminds me of pussy.

Call it horny. Call it an excuse to fuck her.

One way or another, though, I don’t plan to deny myself anymore.

Tucker had it wrong. She was never his. She’s always been mine; she just didn’t know it yet.

“I disagree.” I fight the urge to bum rush her like a juiced-up football player. A little tussling on the floor is great foreplay. “Move your hands.” They’re blocking my damn view.

Her palms move over her weighted tits voluntarily, like the heat of my stare on her naked chest has her aching for my touch. I take a step forward, pushing against her damp body. The wetness is cool against my shirt, but it does nothing to cool the heated skin underneath .

She swallows. “I want . . .”

Her eyes follow the movement of my hands reaching out to skim across the goose bumped flesh along her forearms until they reach their destination—her hands. “You want what?” I whisper, the head of my dick stretching against the fabric of my jeans.

A flush creeps up her neck and I follow it with my gaze. Pink. More fucking pink. She’s killing me.

“I want to see you this time,” she admits softly. “I want all of you.”

I groan, holding her gaze, watching as her eyes volley between my fingers curled around her hands to my eyes.

“Granted,” I whisper softly, teasing at her referring to me as a genie. “Now, let me see all of you.”

So many meanings are tied up in those eight words. I want everything from Ainsley James. Every second of crazy. Every angry word. I want it all. Every inch she’s willing to let me see.

She exhales, her minty breath fanning across my lips. My eyes never leave hers as she drops her hands, taking mine down with them. I take a minute to revel in the fact that she’s trusting me to make her feel good—allowing me to worship her perfection.

My fingers smooth along the sides of her thigh and up over the curve of her hip. “Where should I start this time?” I droll.