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  "Whoever taught you how to punch did a shit job. Did the damage, just not only to me."

  She looks up, those eyes that were throwing daggers my way just seconds before are filling with tears. She allows me to take her wrist and I turn her hand over to see her purpling knuckles.

  "I did damage," she smarts.

  I feel my laughter bubble up my throat, "Yeah, you might actually have done just that." I look down at her hand, accessing the damage she did to herself. "Not broken, darlin', but you should remember how this feels when you get the urge to tap this hard head again."

  "I hate you," she whispers without conviction.

  "No, you don't. Come on, Leigh, let's get you some ice."

  I don't drop her hand and she doesn't pull back as I walk out of my old bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. Pulling out one of the old stools by the island, I wait for her to sit before laying her hand on the counter in front of her and turning to grab a bag. I feel her eyes on me when I walk to the freezer and fill the bag with some ice. When I turn, I watch as gravity wins over her tears and they silently roll down her cheek.

  "You're right. I don't hate you. I wish I could hate you, but I don't think I ever will be able to."

  I kneel and place the bag on her outstretched hand. Without thought, I reach up and thumb a tear off her cheek.

  "I wish it could have been anyone but you," she continues, looking at the floor. "I wasn't even picky. I would have taken anything, anyone, to feel just a sliver of what I felt when you were around. But, no, just like back then . . . my stupid, stupid heart still beats wildly for the one person who never wanted it."

  "Lei--"

  "No, Maverick. I don't even know what I'm sayin'. You've had this attitude, this freakin' wall up, for so long that I shouldn't be surprised. I'm madder at myself for letting you get the best of me, pulling my focus from Clay and Quinn. If you really are here for them, then you need to do just that. You leavin' this time will tear them up if you just run off again without a backward glance. You don't understand this because you weren't here, but they all felt the void of you hard, real hard."

  "Leigh, look--"

  She shakes her head. "No, really, Maverick. Whatever you're about to say with your silver tongue is nothin' I want to hear. I knew how you felt before you left, and regardless of whatever that was back at the PieHole, I think it's safe to assume that things haven't changed in the handful of hours you've been back in town. We need to just put it behind us and move on, for your family. I'll keep my distance and I would appreciate it if you did the same. Honestly, Mav"--she pauses and I watch her chest move as she pulls in a deep breath--"I survived the sting of your rejection back then, and while I'm stronger now, I don't think I could handle your emotional punches again. I'm sorry that I hit you, that was wrong, but let us just chalk up today as the mess it was and move on . . . in separate paths."

  She finally meets my gaze, her blue eyes even brighter with the wetness of her emotions coating them.

  "I'm not leavin'." Out of everything she just said, the only thing I can even get past my lips is that. There is so much that I need to tell her, but I'm not even sure where to start. I just know I need to address her claim that I'll be hauling ass out of here because if she truly believes that, it doesn't matter what else I say to her. She'll be waiting with the rest of the town, guessing when I'll be kicking up dust like the last time I left.

  Her lips open and close, but no words come out. I can see her mind working in overtime as her brow furrows and her eyes search mine. I stand tall and drop my guard, letting her see the honesty and truth behind my words. Her eyes widen when realization hits. I continue to stand there as she studies me.

  The years drop away from us.

  The pain inflicted and the pain consumed, vanish.

  The helpless feelings I battled with daily, the ones that drove my need to escape, are gone.

  For the first time in my recollection, I feel somewhat whole. My breathing speeds up as my nerves fire with an overwhelming need. There isn't anything spoken between us, but with the connection of our gazes, we might as well have spoken our deepest thoughts.

  I step toward her the second she jumps up from the stool, the wood crashing to the ground in her wake. In a split second, everything falls away. The anger, the helplessness, and the lost feelings I've been struggling with. Gone. And in its wake, a feeling of need so strong it knocks the breath from my chest, takes over, and I know I have to have her back in my arms.

  "This can't happen," she says with a gasp when my arms wrap around her to pull her closer, her words breathy against my lips. The soft cotton of her shirt rubbing against my naked, overheated chest.

  "It can." My arms snake around her narrow body to pull her closer.

  "This is a mistake," she slurs, her mouth opening and our tongues sliding against each other.

  Her words fuel my movements and settle a determination over me that demands I prove her wrong. This is far from a mistake. This is a lifetime of want combusting in a split second of affirmation that proves just how wrong she is.

  With her still in my arms, I turn, placing her ass on the counter. Just like back at the PieHole, everything else wrong in my life slips away and only my desire for her is left. Everything I ignored years ago floods through my system, mixing and mingling with the new feelings seeing her again after all this time brought forth. It's too soon, but in the same breath, it's ten years too late.

  Her hands move sluggishly up my chest, around my shoulders, and then her dexterous fingers push into my hair. Her thumbs stay resting against my face as those very fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of my neck to pull me closer. Her movements signaling to my brain that she's giving in to what our bodies so desperately want.

  She shivers in my arms and I use her distracted state against her. Deepening our kiss while I move my hands from where they had been resting against her hips, up her torso, pushing the fabric of her shirt up as I go. The second my calloused palms hit her rib cage, she squirms, wiggling her hips on a low moan. I step closer, feeling the heat of her through the barrier of my towel and her shorts, and when I press my thumbs against her pointed nipples, she jumps in my arms, connecting our bodies, hip to hip.

  We break apart with heaving breaths. Her glazed eyes hooded, her cheeks pink with arousal, and her lips swollen from my kisses. She looks stunning. I give a slight jerk of my wrists, indicating my intentions, and she silently lifts her arms, allowing me to pull her shirt free of her body.

  "Jesus." I harshly groan at the first sight of her blood-red, lace-covered tits.

  My head drops and I open my mouth to give a soft bite against the sensitive flesh at the top of her bra. The red material against her creamy skin makes my cock swell painfully against the towel tied hastily at my hip. I bring my hands up, cupping her heavy breasts, while I give her one long lick over the top of her left breast and up to her collarbone. My hands squeeze each globe roughly as I bury my nose in her neck, continuing my tongue's wet path up to her ear.

  Resting my lips to her ear, I take a second to enjoy the trembles that are vibrating from her quivering body. Her panted breaths echoing off the wall turn into a sharp gasp when I curl my fingers into each cup and jerk down. The tiny straps over her shoulders snap as her breasts spill free. With my mouth still at her lips, I grab her heavy, naked breasts and squeeze, her hard nipples pressing against the center of my palm while I continue to play with her.

  "Touch me," I demand and smile when I feel her body jolt beneath me.

  "Mav," she says with a moan, her hands coming to rest right above my towel, on each side of my hips, making my skin burn beneath her touch.

  I shake my head, my lips rubbing against her ear with the small movements. I let my tongue snake out and lick her lobe. Moving my hands slightly, I pinch her nipples between my thumb and pointer finger at the same time I pull her wet lobe between my lips, biting softly before sucking the tender flesh hard.

  She cries o
ut harshly.

  Releasing my hold on her tits, I bring my hands up and cup her head, forcing her to look into my eyes. "Touch me, Leighton," I demand again, this time harsher and the undeniable meaning laced in my words. I wait for her to comply, moving so that my forehead is resting against hers, our rapid breathing mingling between our bodies. Our eyes not losing the connection held between bright blue and murky green.

  "This is wrong," she whimpers, but her actions betray her words.

  I feel her hands slide from my sides to the center of my abdomen. Her touch branding me as she fingers her way over each ridge and dip before moving down to where I want her touch the most. Her fingers curl into my towel and I back my hips up slightly to help her movements. She gives a hard tug, pulling the knot from its fold, and then drops the cotton to the ground at my feet, her eyes still holding mine. This time the indecision that had been swimming in the beautiful depths is now replaced with solid desire.

  "Tell me you want me," I command, my voice strained as her hands move down my torso, her fingers tracing the deep V until she is wrapping them around my straining flesh. Her tentative movements as she slowly caresses the hard flesh in her hands make me lock my knees and clench my gut. Her long and slow touch makes the coil of pleasure tighten.

  "I--I want you," she pants, her hands tightening around my shaft, learning what I like by the cues she is drawing from me.

  "Tell me you've always wanted me," I continue, not releasing her face, but moving my lips closer to hers so that I can feel the heat of her breath hit my mouth. My words come out in a low, rough garble of desire.

  She nods, but that isn't good enough. I need her words to gain back some of the control I feel slipping from my fingers.

  "Give me the words, darlin'."

  "Maverick, please."

  She tightens her grip, dancing her thumb over the bead of wetness coming out of the tip of my rigid cock.

  "Tell me now, Leighton. Tell me it's always been me."

  Her eyes widen and I watch as one lone tear falls from her lid. Her tear confuses me, but not enough that I stop. Her silence continues and I thrust my hips, my cock moving through the loose hold her hands have around me. Her eyes close for a beat, and when she opens them I see that the last of her indecision has vanished.

  "It's always been you."

  "Try again," I continue, baiting her to get what I need. "It's always been you, Maverick." With my last command, I crush my lips to hers. This kiss is hard and bruising, but full of the promise of what's to come if she gives me what I crave.

  She rips her mouth free and screams, "It's always been you, Maverick, God help me, but it's only ever been you!" She drops my cock, her chest heaving, to grab my face and pull my lips back to hers.

  I have no idea why I pushed her. Why I made her confirm what I knew deep down, but with her words, everything that had been weighing on my mind for almost two weeks vanishes and I feel the most all-consuming peace flood through my body, leaving an uncontrollable need for her behind.

  It doesn't matter to my brain that there is so much unknown floating around outside of our heated embrace. The only thing that matters is this . . . us . . . right here in this moment, as I pull her off the counter to remove the rest of her clothes, tossing them along with her boots onto the floor. I don't give a shit what the consequences of our actions are.

  My earlier thought comes rushing back: it's too soon, but in the same breath, it's ten years too late.

  And yet it can't be too late, when it feels so right to have her in my arms.

  9

  LEIGHTON

  "I Wish I Could Break Your Heart" by Cassadee Pope

  My skin is burning.

  I'm on fire. Every inch from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes is alive with a power I've never felt before. My nerves are taking on a life of their own. When Maverick finishes pulling off each of my boots, he tosses them blindly behind him before he grabs my hips roughly and lifts my body effortlessly up into his arms. My nerves explode with each sweep over my flesh.

  It feels incredible.

  What am I doing? What are we doing? This has regret written all over it, but Lord help me, I can't deny that it feels so right to be in his arms--regardless of the fallout sure to come after.

  His tongue presses into my mouth, swirling with my own, and I whimper. His straining erection makes contact with my bare naked center as he places one huge hand at the base of my spine, using the pressure to pull me even harder against him. His thick shaft spreads me wide, nestling between my lips. The second my sensitive center meets his hard velvet skin, he moans deeply and thrusts, hitting my clit roughly. My mouth falls from his as I drop my head back. He moves the hand that had been squeezing my ass up my back until his fingers are tangled in my hair and forces my head back, his harsh breathing once against just a hair away from my slack mouth.

  "Are you protected?"

  His words sound foreign. My brain struggles to understand him as his thick, hard cock keeps thrusting through my wetness. I know if I look down our bodies, the sight that would meet me would make me shatter completely.

  "Leighton," he says, more urgent now, "are you protected?"

  "Wha?" I gasp, rolling my hips when the tip of his cock hits my clit again.

  "Birth control, darlin'. Are you on it?"

  I vaguely feel my head moving, confirming that I am, in fact, protected, but when he gets the green light he had been waiting for, all rational thought flees. With quick and impatient movements, he pulls his hips back, moves his hand from my hair and down to my hips--mirroring the hold of his other hand as he lifts me from him and slams me back down over his hard cock, impaling me completely.

  He growls deep in his throat.

  I scream loud enough to wake the dead.

  His head falls forward, forehead to my sweat-slicked chest.

  My head falls back, forehead to the ceiling.

  His fingers painfully squeeze my hips, lifting me until I almost lose our connection, before pulling me down roughly again.

  My fingers curl, my nails breaking through his tan, tense shoulders, my walls contracting as he hits a part so deep within me I fear I might split in two.

  His warm tongue gives a long lick up my neck and I feel my core clench around his width again. Lifting my head, my eyes going from the ceiling to the blazing emerald orbs of his hungry gaze, I will my fingers to release his shoulders, but when he starts thrusting rapidly into my body, I search for purchase while a string of gibberish flows from my lips.

  My back hits the wall and he stops his movements to frame my face with his hands, forcing my mouth to his for a hungry kiss. My hands drop from his shoulders and wrap around his back, the muscles tensing under my hands. Our kiss is nothing short of brutal, his hard shaft still buried deep, and I know he could stay still, just like this, and it would be all I need to push me over the edge.

  But with an animalistic sound vibrating against our connected chests, he rears his head back and looks into my eyes. The heaving breaths coming from his slack mouth reach my nipples, the sweat from his chest making it feel almost like a physical touch. He doesn't move, just continues to search my face and I whimper when my need hits a fever pitch, squirming against the wall to try to make him move his hips.

  "Fuck," he says with a groan, the word coming out in a long, low tumble between his lips.

  "Please," I whine, needing him to move, desperate for more.

  "Fuck!" His bellow rings out around us. His hands move from my face, down my neck, and he takes each of my breasts roughly in his hands, bending his head to pull one of my nipples between his lips. I feel him hollow out his cheeks as his tongue rolls over the sensitive peak, then he sucks hard.

  My fingers contract against his tense back, my nails scraping against his skin, as my head hits the wall behind me hard. The pain against my skull instantly forgotten as it mixes with the pleasure his mouth is bringing me. He releases my nipple with a hard snip of his teeth before those roug
h hands of his curl under my ass.

  "Hold on," he warns, making my eyes snap open. I see his lips, plump and swollen from our kisses, turn up into a devilish smirk before his fingers flex, his hips pull back, and with a wink he takes me in a way that makes my body feel as if he's branding himself into me. The grunts and groans coming from our mouths mix together and echo off the walls. My hands scrabble for purchase, desperate with the fire blazing up from my center--each hard thrust into my wetness making it burn so hard I'm half convinced that he's taking me to the point of no return. My body wound so tight that it feels like I'm going to explode, the feelings too intense and powerful that I feel tears filling my closed eyes.

  And then I break.

  A million flashes of bright light fire and swirl through the darkness behind my closed eyes, spiraling in a dizzy speed.

  My throat becomes hoarse as I scream his name over and over.

  I lose the ability to breathe as my climax rages through my body, making my chest burn and my head spin.

  My last thought before I feel my consciousness slip away and I feel him spill deep into my body is that if I die right now, it would be the most beautiful death there ever was.

  I awaken with a jolt.

  My body is sore and screams in protest as I sit up. I look around, search through the darkness, and try to figure out where I am.

  And then I see him.

  Maverick.

  He looks so peaceful. One arm thrown over his head, his face turned toward me. Like this, asleep, he looks like the old Maverick. The one that wasn't fighting a war with his own self to escape some invisible prison. He doesn't look like the warrior that he's since become. The one that never showed emotions. The one that would jump on the backs of beasts capable of killing him with one wrong move and not even think twice about it.

  His strong jaw is relaxed and his full lips part slightly, soft snores coming through. I hold my breath, waiting to see if my sudden movement registers through his deep sleep, but he just continues to slumber.

  A small part of me wonders if he will still be so relaxed and peaceful when he wakes and realizes that we slept together. I know the last thing I feel right now is calm; full-blown panic is more like it. It's like some weird daze settled over me and fogged out any rational thought.