Page 8 of Maverick (Playing For Keeps #2)

REESE

I didn’t see Maverick for the rest of the week.

When he did return to training, he hardly spoke to me, other than what was required.

I tried my hardest to catch him alone, but he seemed to make it his personal mission to make sure that didn’t happen.

He was always the first one on the field and always buried himself in the crowd in the showers after.

By the final day of training camp, we’d only shared one interaction.

However, some strange twist of fate—or simply me spacing out and forgetting my phone—had me stumbling into the classroom long after everyone had left.

Or so I thought.

Maverick sat at a table, bent over a tablet.

He had headphones in and hadn’t even noticed that I’d entered the room.

Unfortunately for him, my phone was plugged in right next to that specific table.

Not ready to interrupt the moment, I took advantage of it and leaned against the door frame to drink him in.

He twirled a loose curl around his finger, rewinding the video and leaning even closer to the screen.

I silently pleaded for him to look up, for those gorgeous eyes to meet mine .

“I don’t understand,” he muttered to himself, sliding the cursor back to the same spot.

Damn. I guess my admiration of him was over. Pushing off the wall, I advanced into the room. “Don’t understand what?”

Maverick flinched, gaze whipping up to meet mine. “Nothing. What do you want?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I watched Maverick's temper grow with each step I took. His nostrils flared, his eyes darkened to a deep hunter green. His left leg bounced beneath the table, increasing in pace as I got closer. By the time I landed in front of him, his left hand had curled into a tight fist. Man, he really didn’t want me near him.

“Relax. I forgot my phone,” I told him, throat tight. Leaning down, I yanked my phone free of the charger. In doing so, I caught a glimpse of what he’d been watching: block shedding drills. I gestured toward the screen. “I can show you what you’re doing wrong.”

“That sounds like a great idea, but I’ve got some pins I’d rather stick in my eyes later.”

Although he was snapping at me, I found myself trying not to laugh. Angry Maverick was fucking adorable. “Alright,” I surrendered. “But the offer stands. Will I see you tonight?”

Every year, some of the team took a trip to Gulf Shores to celebrate the end of the training. We all pitched in on a house, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped that Maverick and I would end up “stuck” in the same room.

If that wouldn’t force him to talk to me, nothing would.

Maverick would have every reason not to go, considering he’d just moved and he’d been sick, but that didn’t stop a guy from dreaming. He peered up at me through the dark ringlets hanging in his face. As he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, I almost thought he would give me an honest answer.

“Did you not hear me about those pins in my eyes?”

With that, he returned to the video on the screen, cranking the volume up to drown me out. Shaking my head, I unplugged my charger and moved for the door. Apologizing to Maverick Crawford was going to take so much more than catching him alone.

Between Beckham’s interrogations when I was trying to pack and my chronic Space Cadet Syndrome, I was the last to arrive at the house in Gulf Shores.

After getting caught in rush hour traffic—and the large coffee I’d chugged very quickly—my first priority was finding the closest bathroom.

So it wasn’t until I’d tumbled into the kitchen rubbing my irritated belly that I found Maverick standing at the counter, mixing himself a drink.

Based on the flush across his cheeks, it wasn’t his first. Quinton stood there, and Maverick had his head thrown back, laughing at something the other man had said.

I froze in place, utterly captivated as his head came down and those sparkling eyes met mine.

His smile didn’t fade either, which was a welcome sight.

“Still got the bladder of a squirrel?” he teased.

Quinton choked on a mouthful of his whiskey.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I let my shirt fall to cover my stomach. I didn’t want to argue, not when Maverick was finally speaking to me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So I shouldn’t bring up that road trip senior year?—”

“No! There’s no need for that.”

The booze must have loosened Maverick up, because he held my gaze. He rolled that pouty bottom lip between his teeth, regarding me with a look that had me squirming on the spot. He smirked, amused—as if that was his intention all along. “You drinking?”

“Yeah,” I responded, closer to a squeak than I cared to admit. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’m drinking. ”

Before I could do so myself, Maverick began mixing a margarita. All I could do was stand there, stunned.

This man went from hating my guts to making me drinks?

After refilling his whiskey, Quinton whispered something into Mav’s ear and pushed off the surface he’d been leaning on, watching me until he was out of sight.

I crossed the room and hopped onto the counter, astonished that Maverick hadn’t made a move to put distance between us. “Can I ask what that was all about?”

“You can.” Maverick handed over my drink and I took a sip, pleasantly surprised—strong with extra salt, just the way I liked it. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you.”

“Fair enough.” After a pause in which he didn’t walk away from me, I took a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

“Not yet.” Then he took his drink and strolled out the back door.

He didn’t tell me not to, so I jumped off the counter to follow him.

The back porch gave way to a sprawling deck, with steps that led right down to a white, sandy beach.

Men sprawled across the property. Some splashed in the water while others played football on the sand.

A few dotted the patio, and that’s where I found Maverick.

He sat alone, staring out over the ocean.

I followed his gaze right to… Quinton, who’d just tackled one of our goalkeepers to the ground.

I winced—that guy would be sore tomorrow.

Deciding to take a chance, I lowered myself into the seat next to Maverick.

Silently, he brought his cup to his lips—Crown and Sprite, if I had to guess—and I tried not to stare at the way his perfect lips curled around the rim.

“Is there something going on between you two?” I asked, feeling a pang of jealousy in my chest. Not that I had any right to be jealous.

I’d had Maverick once, and I screwed it up.

He deserved to find someone who could give him everything I couldn’t.

“Sort of,” he admitted.

“What do you mean by that? ”

Maverick turned his attention to the ocean, to the foamy waves crashing against the shore. “It’s nothing exclusive.”

Maverick slowly rotated his head, pinning me with a look that sent a mouthful of my drink down the wrong tube.

It was filthy , but erotic and full of the threat of what was to come the moment we were behind a closed door.

I choked, lurching forward to try and expel the tequila from my lungs.

Maverick chuckled and rubbed my back until I could breathe again.

“I thought you hated me,” I told him, wiping tears from my eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Reese. I never did. I hate what you did to me.” Mav finished his drink, smoldering eyes watching my every move as he did so. “And damn it, if you don’t get my heart racing the same way you did all those years ago. I don’t understand it but right now, I don’t want to fight it.”

“Does that mean?—”

“I wasn’t finished.” With an undistinguished noise that could only be described as a yip, I snapped my mouth shut. It only seemed to fuel Maverick’s amusement. He dropped his voice to a whisper that drew a path of goosebumps along my skin. “Do I get to you that bad?”

I swallowed hard, my throat unexpectedly tight. “You always have.”

“Prove it to me.”

“How?” The man could tell me to jump and I would ask how high.

He stood, tossing his empty cup into a nearby trash can. “Third floor, second bedroom on the left. Finish your drink, then come and find me.”

My grip tightened on my margarita, and it was all I could do to hold off chugging the thing until he disappeared inside.

I waited until he climbed the stairs, then drank as fast as the ice and the booze would let me.

The first time I came up for air, Quinton was climbing the steps, soaking wet and covered in sand.

When he caught me staring, he threw me a wink .

I had to admit that Quinton was attractive, but he didn’t hold a candle to another linebacker on our team.

One that was currently waiting for me in his bedroom.

Fifteen minutes and a strong buzz later, my drink was empty.

A few teammates who hadn’t seen me yet greeted me as I moved inside, but I had a one-track mind.

Almost of their own accord, my feet carried me through the house and up the two flights of steps to the third floor.

My heart thundered, heavy to match every footfall.

Maverick’s bedroom door was cracked and like a beacon, it urged me closer. With my hand on the wood, I paused. This whole thing could be a setup. He clearly still held onto some resentment for what I’d done —and he was more than justified.

If he had planned some elaborate scheme to embarrass me as much as I had done to him…

I’d deserve it.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the dark bedroom, only illuminated by the light on Maverick’s phone. He laid in bed, wearing nothing but a tight pair of white boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. I swayed, lightheaded as blood surged to my crotch.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he muttered, locking his screen and plunging the room into darkness—but I knew where he was.

A dark shape rose from the bed, and the shadow crept closer. With nowhere to go, he had me pinned against the door in no time, bracing himself on the wood with one hand as it snicked shut behind me. “Mav?—”

“Shh.”

Then his lips were on mine. I grunted into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a low groan of his own.

His tongue speared through my lips, mixing the taste of tequila with Crown and damn, I think I discovered my new favorite combination.

I’d never been a whiskey drinker but tasting it on Mav’s lips? I could get used to that.

Our tongues tangled, wrestling for dominance.

Maverick gave as good as he got and as I tried to lift my hands, he pinned them to my sides, making it clear who was in charge.

He pushed harder and I tried to fight, only to ultimately give into him.

I whimpered, tipping my head back in submission.

Maverick sighed, his tongue delving into my mouth to map out every inch.

His hips pinned mine to the door, his hard cock grinding into mine, which grew rail-hard in zero-point-five seconds. I rocked into him, the sensation of our erections grinding together drawing a moan from deep in my chest. God damn , it had been way too long.

My lungs ached, begging me to come up for air but when Maverick did, I whined in protest. He laughed, warm breath washing over my tender lips.

I panted, inhaling Maverick’s scent with each hard-earned breath.

He still smelled the same. His natural musk swirled with warm amber and spice that drew memories from the deepest corners of my mind.

He smelled like a hidden bonfire deep in the woods. Like lazy kisses on a riverbed. Like sun-kissed touches while an old wooden dock warmed our backs after a day in the water.

He smelled like home.

My eyes burned at the crushing reminder of what I’d given up. As if Maverick could sense it, his warm palm cupped around my neck, his thumb stroking my cheek, and the next words out of his mouth threatened to unravel me before we could get started.

“Can you get on your knees for me?”