Page 7 of Maverick (Playing For Keeps #2)

MAVERICK

Everyone’s been jet lagged before—that type of disorientation where your body doesn’t quite know where it is or which way’s up.

I thought I’d adjusted to it all, but as I pried my eyes open, I was so wrong.

I didn’t recognize the room I was in, nor the bed I was lying in.

It couldn’t have been my own, because mine was still sitting in a box in my empty bedroom.

I groaned. My throat hurt, my head pounded, and the pressure behind my eyes made me feel like my brain was about to explode.

Blinking away the haze of sleep, my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and fat raindrops pattered against the unfamiliar window.

I smirked. I loved the rain. I’d traveled all over the country, but nothing beat that fresh, earthy smell in the air that preceded a Southern thunderstorm.

I rolled onto my back and stretched, but before I could sit up, the bedroom door eased open.

Quinton padded into the room and realized that I was awake.

Right: Quinton Webster had brought me home. My defensive team captain was the hot stranger I’d hooked up with in San Diego, the one I’d been fantasizing about for weeks—and he’d recognized me . Now I was laying in his bed .

How in the hell did I get here ?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling me from my thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you might want the window open.”

“That’d be great.” My voice sounded like I’d swallowed a frog, and talking made the pain even worse.

Quinton smirked, unlocking the window and raising the glass to let in some fresh air. “Someone’s got the sniffles.”

“I am way too miserable to call this something as cute as ‘the sniffles…’ But yes, I do.”

His responding laughter sent a shiver down my spine. “Lucky for you, I was the one grandkid that got all my Granny’s good cold remedies—so long as you can handle a bit of brandy.”

Still lying in bed, I crooked a brow at Quinton’s large shadow strolling my way. “Can’t sneeze if I’m knocked out?”

“Sometimes I think the brandy was for her.”

I shuffled over to give him room to perch next to me. “How many grandkids?”

“Fourteen, over six kids of her own but I’m the baby, so?—”

“You’re the favorite.” The fondness in his voice made me hesitate to ask: “Is she…”

“Alive and well. She’s ninety-three and in better health than all of us combined.”

My lips drew up into a smile. “Sounds like the woman knows what she’s doing.”

I wasn’t sure when, but at some point, his hand gravitated to mine.

Our fingers locked together, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist in a way that—combined with the rumble of the storm outside—nearly had me asleep again in seconds.

“Why don’t I get you some medicine and leave you to get some more rest? ”

My bottom lip rolled between my teeth, and I concentrated on the feeling of his warm palm against my clammy one.

I didn’t want him to go away. Not only did it feel wrong to expect him to leave his own room, but because his presence alone made me feel better.

Working together made things more complicated, but now that I knew he was the one I’d wholeheartedly given myself up to in California, it felt… right.

“Talk to me, Maverick.”

“Am I allowed to ask you to stay with me?” The words rolled off my lips before I could stop them.

A deep breath, and flicker of lightning illuminated Quinton’s broad frame next to me, his brown eyes twinkling in the light. “You are.” He raised a single finger, brushing a gentle knuckle across my cheek. “Will you tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

As if my body knew something that my head hadn’t accepted yet, I relaxed into the man’s touch. Sniffling, I let my eyes flutter shut. “I don’t want it to backfire on me.”

He chuckled. “You’ll never know if you don’t spit it out, sweetheart.”

I fidgeted with the edge of the blanket he’d so caringly tucked me in with.

It wasn’t often that I was able to stretch out on a bed comfortably, but this one had room to spare.

Empty space sprawled across the mattress to my right—a perfect Quinton-shaped opening.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words that came out weren’t the ones I had in mind. “I was never good enough for him.”

A coughing fit interrupted Quinton’s response, but he waited patiently, tugging me to sitting and rubbing my back until it passed. “We don’t have to talk about that right now,” he said soothingly.

“We do— I do. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

When he fell silent, I took that as my cue to continue.

“We met freshman year. To us, Tuscaloosa was a huge change compared to the places we came from. We bonded over that and… then it turned to more. But where I was comfortable being out, he wasn’t ready to ‘show off’ a relationship—his words, not mine.

We kept it behind closed doors for years.

That attitude you mentioned? He’s always had it, and it didn’t just end when we left the field.

I pretended that the inappropriate jokes and snide comments didn’t bother me because in the bedroom, I was his sole focus. He always knew exactly what to do.

“When it came time for the draft, he got picked in the first round, and I didn’t.

I’d always been a bit of a straggler—even in pee wee football.

I didn’t think it would change anything, but he ghosted me.

I confronted him at a party, and he pretended not to know who I was.

My best friend found me crying in the bathroom, drug me home, and finally convinced me to let him go.

But he doesn’t know that I kept trying to get in touch with Reese—for months.

I don’t know what changed, but one day I woke up and decided that I was just… done.”

“He never said anything to you?”

“Not until today.”

Quinton cupped my cheek in his hand, thumb brushing my cheekbone. I sighed, leaning into his palm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It can’t be easy to be forced into working with him, but if there’s anything I can do to help make this easier on you, all you have to do is say so.”

“This helps,” I said, nuzzling his palm. Damn, the man’s laugh warmed me from the inside out, giving me the strength I needed to ask my next question. “Are we doing this? For real?”

“I was hoping to talk to you about that. Though I’ll admit, I hoped to do it when you felt better. Why don’t we continue this another time?”

I glanced around, looking for my phone that I must have left in my bag. “What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

“Fucking hell—why are you sitting here talking to me about my pathetic love life? You should be asleep.”

“I don’t need much these days.” Quinton peeled sweat- drenched hair away from my forehead. “I’d much rather sit here and take care of you anyway.”

Heat crawled up my cheeks and my neck, and I found myself grateful that Quinton couldn’t see it in the dark. My eyelids were already growing heavy again, so I laid back down, tugging on his hand. “Lay with me, please. If you really want to take care of me, you can make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Oh,” he laughed, climbing into the other side of the bed and wrapping his arm around my waist. “Is that how it’s going to go?”

“Trust me—you don’t want to see my attempt at cooking. Besides…” I faked a dramatic cough that quickly turned into a real one. “I’m sick.”

Quinton’s chest vibrated with laughter, and he pressed his lips to my temple. “I was only joking, pretty baby. My princess gets whatever he wants.”

With a satisfied hum, I relaxed in Quinton’s arms. His heart thumped a steady rhythm against my back.

He kissed across my skin, dancing across my shoulders and treading dangerously toward my mouth but retreating before he got there.

As frustrating as it was, I didn’t want to get him sick.

So even though I was desperate to kiss him, I didn’t dare turn my head.

Between his arms around me and the storm raging outside, I quickly drifted off to sleep again.

As promised, Quinton woke me up the next morning with breakfast in bed—and one of Granny’s famous hot toddies. The warm, lemon-scented liquid practically called my name, so I reached for that first…

And choked on the first sip. Quinton only smiled as I rubbed away the burn in my chest.

“Damn, maybe Granny was sharing the brandy after all,” I coughed.

“Take it slow, sweetheart—and make sure you eat.”

Happily. I was still stuffed up and a bit feverish, but a full night’s sleep helped—especially with Quinton’s massive arms around me.

We’d only spent what felt like a fleeting moment together in San Diego, but being around him had given me a comfort that I hadn’t known I needed.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so soundly.

I tugged the tray closer, gawking at the amount of food on the plate. Pancakes and fresh fruit piled high on one side, almost comical in appearance to the turkey bacon and eggs on the other. “I hope it’s okay,” Quinton said, almost bashful. “I don’t eat pork so…”

“It’s fine!” I picked at a slice of banana on top of Pancake Mountain. “It’s just a lot.”

Quinton raised his hand and peeled sticky curls away from my face. “You need your strength.”

Ugh , I felt disgusting. I’d showered before leaving the stadium, but between my runny nose and sweating out the fever, I was gross and desperately needed to bathe.

I worked at a bite of pancake, taking in the food in front of me.

Even at my size, there was no way I’d be able to eat it all.

Peering up at the man next to me, I didn’t even get a word out of my mouth before he crooked a brow expectantly.

“What?” he questioned, lips twitching at the corners.

I hammed it up, batting my lashes. “You said your princess gets whatever he wants, right?”

“That’s right.”

“He wants you to help him finish this food, then join him in that massive jacuzzi tub you’ve got in your bathroom.”

Quinton’s grin widened into a full smile. Shaking his head, he happily accepted the fork from me. “Did you know you were a natural at this submissive thing?”

Heat flooded my cheeks as Quinton fed me the next bite. Oh, yes please. I eased back against the headboard while we ate. “Does that mean you want to do this?”

“I do, as long as you’re comfortable with it. I promise that the minute we step onto that field, it’s nothing but professional.”

It only took a few more bites for my stomach to protest, so I offered the rest to Quinton. “Is this a relationship?” I asked. “Or just fun in the bedroom?”

He shrugged, urging me to take the hot drink again. “It can be whatever you want. We can also just do what feels good for the moment and check in again later.”

I hummed, Quinton’s large hand massaging my thigh beneath the tray. “That one; I like that idea.”

He rose from the bed, leaning over to kiss my forehead before he got to his feet. “You work at that drink. I’ll go start your bath.”

With the warm mug in my hands, I relaxed.

For a little while, I’d forgotten about my brand-new house with all the furniture waiting to be assembled.

As I waited for the bath to run, the scent of tea tree and lavender wafted into the room.

Once the water was ready—and I couldn’t tolerate any more of the strong drink—Quinton helped me out of bed and into the bathroom, where he undressed me with a tender touch, placing gentle kisses over every inch of exposed skin.

When I lowered myself into the hot, bubbly water, I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t taken off his own clothes and all it took was a pointed glance for him to do so.

After tying his hair up, he climbed in behind me, and I laid in his arms, fitting like I was made to be there.

Whatever he’d put in the bath worked wonders in opening up my sinuses.

Quinton washed me, starting with my shoulders and working his way down.

As he massaged shampoo into my hair, I found the strength to speak. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, baby girl.”

My stomach fluttered. “You said you don’t normally date during the season.”

“That’s right.” Quinton took a deep breath. “That’s why I was in the back room of a club all the way across the country—I usually get it out of my system before the season starts.”

At his instruction, I closed my eyes. “What makes me so different? ”

Quinton wound soapy fingers through my curls, tugging my head to the side so he could nuzzle into my neck.

Nosing along my jaw, he rumbled his next words into my ear.

“Because I can’t get you out of my system, princess.

” Despite how shitty I felt, blood surged south and if Quinton noticed, he didn’t address it.

“The second I left you alone, I wanted to turn back. I should have turned back, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You’re different because having you within sight and not being allowed to touch you would be the worst torture I could think of.

That would be the worst distraction. But Maverick, if you decide that you don’t want to be exclusive, I just need you to tell me.

Just because I’m not seeing anyone else doesn’t mean I expect you to do the same. Okay?”

“Mmhmm…” Damn it, I’d do whatever he wanted if he kept touching me like that. My heart hammered against my ribcage.

Quinton finished washing me, roaming my body with careful strokes of his hands—but never quite ending up where I really wanted him.

When the bath cooled and I showed no signs of wanting to get out, he only added more hot water.

Long after I was clean, I laid there on his chest, hovering in such a relaxed state that I was one tender stroke away from falling asleep.

For the first time in a long time, I was… comfortable.

And that was a feeling that I could start getting used to.