Page 5 of Maverick (Playing For Keeps #2)

QUINTON

Teddy— Maverick —stiffened. Red washed over his cheeks, the flush continuing down his chest and disappearing behind his shirt.

I thought I recognized him the moment he walked onto the field but when he turned his back, the compass tattoo between his shoulder blades confirmed my suspicions.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Give me fifteen,” I said. “Then meet me back here.”

He flinched, head snapping up. His eyes flitted to the door, and he shuffled in his seat.

“Come with me,” I said, grabbing my keys.

As I led him out of the locker room, timid footsteps echoed behind me.

Not all team captains got access to the offices but since we were down a coach, I got lucky.

Maverick followed me to the last door on the left, and I let him in ahead of me.

The shadow of him entering the dark room had my heart thundering with the reminder of who he was, but now wasn’t the time.

I flipped on the light, then shut and locked the door.

I took a seat behind the desk, but he hovered in the entryway. “Do you want to sit down?”

He shook his head, fidgeting with his fingers. “I’m okay.”

“You think I’m going to scold you.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, sweetheart.”

That had him lifting his gaze from the floor.

“Is it okay that I call you that?”

It was slow, but he nodded.

I’d been right before: He was beautiful.

Damp black curls hung in soft, hunter green eyes that gazed back at me.

A smattering of freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones, his olive-toned skin accented from the afternoon in the sun.

“But I was late—on my first day. And I tackled Reese pretty hard.”

I scoffed. “He deserved it.” Confused, Maverick furrowed his brows.

“We’ve all wanted to punch Reese a time or two.

Unfortunately, I have an image to maintain—and everyone else is scared of him.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out why .

I understand why you were late, and why you lost your temper with him but neither of those reasons are why I wanted to talk to you.

I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with us being on the same team after… ”

Maverick’s cheeks deepened in color. Neither of us needed to finish that thought. Hell, it had only been two weeks. I could practically still feel the way his ass strangled my cock as he came.

Focus, Webster .

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“You do. I’m the one in power here. I can talk to the coaches and step down from being captain. ”

Maverick’s head thrashed side to side. “No. I can’t ask you to do that.”

I relaxed in my seat, noting the way that Maverick’s gaze roamed my body, pausing on my lap before returning to my face. “Come here,” I commanded, patting my thigh.

His lips twitched, but he still didn’t move. “We’ll break the chair.”

“Then I’ll buy a new one.”

Hesitantly, but with a brightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, Maverick crossed the room.

His long legs ate up the space between us, and I rotated in the chair to give him room to step between my thighs.

He perched on my knee, but that wasn’t going to do.

I tugged him into my lap and once the chair stopped creaking under our weight, we both relaxed.

Maverick eased into my arms, and I basked in the feeling.

It was a strange twist of fate that it was him I’d been speaking to, and I’d walked away from it dying to know who that blindfolded man was—I wanted more of him.

Now was my chance and as long as he was comfortable with it, I wasn’t going to miss it. And behind closed doors, we didn’t have to worry about wandering eyes. “How’s your stomach?” I asked, remembering that he’d been sick on the field.

“It’s fine. I think I’ll just skip the protein shake next time.” But his stomach was the least of our worries when he jerked his head back, barely covering his face in time to sneeze down his T-shirt. “Ugh, I think I picked something up on the flight.”

“You need to go home and get to bed,” I laughed, rubbing his back and offering him a tissue from the box on the desk.

“My bed’s not even put together yet—moving has been a bit of a nightmare.”

My brows drew together. “Where’d you sleep last night?”

“If by ‘sleep,’ you mean the power nap that I had this morning, I crashed on the couch. ”

I patted Maverick’s hip, nudging him to stand. “Alright, I’m making an executive decision: You’re staying with me.”

“I can’t?—”

“You’re sick,” I interrupted, rising to my feet. “You need rest—in a bed. Besides, I’m a Daddy dom. You can’t tell me you’re sick and don’t have a proper place to sleep and expect me to do nothing about it.”

Maverick squirmed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not a Little.”

“You don’t have to regress to be taken care of, sweetheart.” I took a step closer, bringing us chest-to-chest. “When’s the last time you let someone take care of you?” His silence served as his answer. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

I leaned in, but he flattened a hand on my chest to stop me. “Sore throat.”

“Fair enough.” I smiled and stamped a kiss to his forehead instead. “Let’s go.”

Deciding to leave his car behind, I drove Maverick to his place to pack an overnight bag.

When I walked in, the modest two-bedroom house was more boxes than a home.

I didn’t know how he moved around, much less got any decent sleep.

By the time we walked in my front door, he was dead on his feet.

He didn’t even protest when I took his bag for him.

I set both his and mine by the front door and held him steady as he kicked out of his shoes. “Are you hungry?” I asked him.

“Yeah…” he admitted bashfully. “I haven’t eaten since last night.”

I tamped down the urge to scold him. It wasn’t what he needed right then. “No wonder you threw up…”

I led him through the hall and into the kitchen, where I parked him on a stool while I made him something to eat.

I’d precooked some chicken earlier in the week, so I diced that up with a microwave bag of vegetables.

I wasn’t sure what he’d be able to tolerate, nor did I think he could hold his head up long enough for me to make a full meal from scratch.

Maverick sat at the counter, gazing around the kitchen.

“Your place is really nice. Mine doesn’t feel quite like home yet. ”

“I’m sure it will when you get all those boxes unpacked.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me. I don’t want to think about unpacking.”

“Stay here until you feel better. Then I’ll come over and help you.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Maverick…”

He snatched a carrot stick from the plate and took a frustrated bite out of it. “Thank you.”

While he ate, I busied myself with cleaning up the kitchen. “Reese…” he muttered between bites.

Ah, right. There was clearly something there.

As I’d told him, we’d all wanted to knock Reese Taylor out for one reason or the other, but it typically didn’t happen so quickly.

It only took a few words before Maverick was knocking him to the ground.

I hoped that, with time, he would open up about what happened between them, but I wasn’t going to force him to do so.

“We don’t have to talk about him.”

“He’s not your secret roommate, right?” Maverick joked.

I laughed. “God, no. That sounds like the bad plot of a romance novel.”

“My best friend does read a lot. I think he got into my head.”

With the dishes put away and the counter wiped clean, I leaned on the surface in front of him, meeting those gentle green eyes as I spoke. “I’m very particular about who I let in my space.”

When Maverick blushed, his freckles stood out—and it was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

He only managed half the food before rubbing his stomach and pushing it away, so I packed the rest away before I led him to the second floor.

“I’ll take the guest room tonight,” I offered, and the boy was so tired that he didn’t even argue.

“You might feel more comfortable with the ensuite. ”

After glancing around the space, he gestured to the open bathroom. “May I?”

“Of course. There are toothbrushes under the sink if you didn’t get a chance to brush after practice.”

Maverick muttered a thanks, tossing a sleepy grin over his shoulder.

While I waited, I lowered myself into the armchair next to the bed, scrubbing a hand over my face.

We had so much to unpack, and I didn’t just mean boxes.

I needed to figure out how to tell Maverick that I didn’t want to keep things casual.

Typically, I didn’t do relationships. Being a pro athlete was hectic, and I often watched my teammates struggle with personal relationships as a result. All too often, those relationships crumbled under the pressure. I knew that if that happened, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

But him? I didn’t stand a chance.

I hadn’t gotten him out of my head since I’d left Peaches.

I should have turned back, demanded to give him the aftercare that I knew he desperately needed.

It had gone against every instinct I had to do the opposite, but that had been what he asked for.

Still, I hadn’t stopped thinking about my princess.

Mine .

There was something primal there. Maverick, despite his size and his status, carried a weight on his shoulders. There was something behind those green eyes that triggered a deep-seated need to protect him. His reactions to Reese’s presence only intensified the feeling.

A couple of minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Maverick stepped out, red in the face. He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, moving pliantly while I stripped him down to his underwear. “Did your food stay down?”

“Barely,” he muttered. “But I think I’m okay now.”

I nudged him onto the pillows, pulling the blanket over him.

Even the summer in Alabama didn’t stand a chance against my air conditioning system, and I hoped that the cool air would help him feel better.

Eyes already heavy, he stifled a yawn through his next words. “Thank you, Quinton. For everything.”

The sound of my name falling off his lips sent a shiver down my spine—one that I ignored for now. That poor boy needed to sleep. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart. Get some rest.”

Maverick was snoring by the time I shut the bedroom door.