Crazy Good

by Rachel Robinson

  She stands, sauntering over to sit directly in my lap, her legs dangling off the side. I groan and laugh at the same time. It’s so unexpected and so right at the same fucking time. Wrapping her arms around my neck, I feel her answer. She says it anyway. “I trust you. I just don’t want to be the reason you quit. I want you to want it for yourself. If I were to drop off the face of the planet tomorrow, I’d want to drop knowing you’d be okay.” She kisses my cheek. She kisses my ear. She runs her fingernails through my hair.

  “I’m okay now. I know that I’m okay now,” I whisper, closing my eyes, feeling her on me and around me. It’s not a lie. I’ll be okay if I always have this. Windsor’s steely blue gaze is trained on me when I open my eyes.

  “This plan?” Windsor asks, narrowing her eyes and biting her bottom lip. Fuck. “Does making out on the new couch come next?”

  No. “Yes,” comes out instead. She squeals as I pick her up, cradling her in my arms. “The plan is whatever makes you happy,” I admit, pulling her down on me, sinking deep into the sofa. I want to know she’s mine before I take her again. This time I’m going to do what I should have done the first time. The thing is, there is no way I’m telling her no…maybe not ever again. Our legs are entwined and I feel every body part that touches hers. She props herself on her elbows and looks down at me, her brown hair spilling over her shoulders. My heart starts pounding the second it recognizes the look in her blue eyes. There’s no guessing about it. I know what she’s thinking.

  “I love you,” I say, beating her to the punch.

  A half-smirk inches its way across her beautiful mouth. Eyes smiling she says, “Blow me, Maverick.”

  She cuts off my laugh with a kiss, her hands sliding under my shirt, lifting it as she goes. I pull it over my head and toss it to the floor. She sits up, straddling my hips, her knee-length skirt rising to accommodate. My eyes are immediately drawn down.

  “Whenever I couldn’t sleep, when I was upset after you left, I would think about this,” she whispers, laying a hand over her tattoo over my heart. “And the day at your house when I went to see you…” She swallows. I move my hands to rest on her hips. “I saw the tattoo and I knew that if I ever meant as much to you as you said, then we’d find a way to each other. Then Nash came along, a changed freaking man. I hoped that if you ever came back to me, I’d be able to forgive you…and that I’d be the same person you remembered.”

  At the mention of Nash, my hands tighten on her hips possessively. I blow out a breath through my mouth. I sense she isn’t finished so I remain quiet as she drags a finger over my chest.

  “One word,” Windsor says, finally glancing back up to my face.

  I don’t lie. “Nash.”

  She sighs, placing her hands on top of mine. “I forgave him for the altar dash. I felt a little bad because the bimbo left him. I know that sounds crazy because of what he did to me, but there it is. He needed my forgiveness and part of my messed up mind wanted to give it to him. It’s a clean break, Maverick. We were just friends getting to know each other again,” she explains. She tells me how much he’s changed and all the things he’s said and done for her when I was busy in drunk mode. It makes me feel a little bitter.

  It also makes me feel a little sick that he was there for her when I wasn’t…because I chose not to be. If he honestly changed as much as she thinks, wouldn’t he be the better choice for her? My ego won’t let me believe it, so I push the thought away. I’m the man for Windsor. Kathy even said I was good for her. She told me how Nash was just a placeholder until the great love of her life showed up. She told me I was it. I’m not sure how she surmised as much, but I’m glad she said it.

  “I was never supposed to be more than friends with John Nash. I told him so.”

  Relief courses through me. Though that had to be a hard conclusion to come to, after all those years spent pouring herself into something that never happened.

  She puts a finger over my lips. “Before you say anything else, I need to know why you need my clothing sizes. Morganna told me,” she says, cocking her head in question.

  Morg, the blabbering bitch is going to ruin everything. I shrug. She didn’t give away any pertinent details. That I know of, at least. “We’re going on a long weekend,” I say nonchalantly. I say it like she doesn’t have an option either. If she doesn’t agree, my plan will go up in flames. I need for her to see me prove myself to her. Her brows wrinkle in confusion. It’s so cute. I smile.

  She shakes her head. “I can’t just take off work.”

  “You can. I already requested it off for you when I went to talk to Hannah.”

  “Of course you did. Anything else you did for me? Where are we going?” I notice she doesn’t ask hypothetically. We’re going. We’re fucking going. I pull her close to me for a kiss just because I feel like I might explode from happiness if I don’t use her as an outlet. It’s the first moment in a long time that the grief doesn’t rear and funny enough…it makes me feel guilty. I slam my eyes shut and kiss her harder.

  She bites my lip as she pulls away. “Your boss was pretty amenable about the whole situation after I explained…and after I told her that you’ll be managing all my accounts when you get back, she couldn’t argue. Expensive time off, Win. Better get ready to have some fun. Plus, I have seven long weekend cards to use if I remember correctly.” That was my plan if she shot me down all night. I was going to argue that she had to honor at least one of them. I was going to tell her that if she wanted, if it was what she wanted after I’d laid it all out on the line, it could be the very last time she saw me. Luckily, she’s going to go along without kicking and screaming.

  “You’re so crafty. And manipulating. Trying to buy my love again, I see?”

  “The first time I was trying to buy a date. Now I’m trying to buy your love,” I admit, smiling. “Want to see the clothes I chose?” She hops off me and pulls me to stand. She swats my hand when I reach for my shirt.

  Trailing a finger down the center of my chest down to the button on my jeans she whispers, “No shirts. You want my love…no shirts.”

  “You have a shirt on,” I fire back, raising one brow. Windsor unbuttons her shirt unmercifully slowly, taking her sweet time sliding it over one shoulder and then the other. When it’s all the way off and her black bra is all I can see, she throws her shirt in my face. Pissed she covered my view, I throw the shirt to the ground.

  “Not anymore,” she says, backing up, heading for her bedroom. It kicks in—the adrenaline…the fight or flight response that’s wavered in fucking neutral since the mission. Fight. I’m not running anymore. Not in my head. Not in my life and definitely not in my relationship with Windsor. She’s giving me another chance and, for fuck’s sake, I’m going to take full advantage of it. My paused life is officially in drive.

  She unzips her skirt and steps out of it at the entrance to her room. I close the door behind us. I hesitate a second, studying her black thong, and then lock it. She laughs.

  “Goose can’t do doorknobs,” she says, smiling, eyes roaming my body like I’m her favorite sight in the whole world. I run my hands through my hair self-consciously. She glances at the closet where Gretchen hung the new dresses all in garment bags. A crease forms between her eyes as she tries to decipher what they mean for our weekend destination.

  I clear my throat. She startles.

  “I’m not used to having men in my room. But I’m very glad you’re here.” Windsor nods toward the dresses. “We going to the Grammys or something?” I unbutton my pants and let them hit the floor. No underwear tonight. Her eyes widen. Now it’s my turn to laugh.

  “We’re going to the bed,” I demand, flicking my gaze to it and back to her. I’m in front of her in the next second. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

  I palm her bare ass in my big hands, and pull her against my hard dick. She kisses her tattoo on my chest, rubbing her hands up my biceps and shoulders. Her touch is so reverent, meaningful. I won’t make th
e first move though. It feels like the first time. There’s just one thing I need from her.

  “You know you’re mine, right?” I ask. She nods. I lightly touch her chin and force her wandering gaze to mine. “Forever,” I say leaning toward her so she gets my implied meaning. I can’t be any clearer.

  “Make love to me, Maverick Hart. I’m yours forever. And you? You’re mine for eternity,” she whispers grabbing me in her hand. That’s a green fucking light. Her words hit me square in the chest.

  I have the remaining scraps of lace on the floor and her in my arms before we even hit the bed.

  A realization dawns on me—falling in love hurts. Existing in it is bliss.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Windsor

  There’s no hesitation on either side. He’s kissing me like I’m oxygen and he can’t breathe. I’m kissing him like he’s a condemned man on death row. I take it. He gives it—all of it. I forgot how delicious his lips taste when they slide over mine. The way his cologne and body wash seep into my awareness cause heat and wetness everywhere it’s supposed to be right now. Lust. Love. They both battle for the front position. I want him to slide into me and finally be connected to him again, but then again I don’t. Because that means it will be over sooner.

  “Don’t leave me tonight,” I say when Maverick buzzes his nose down my neck on his way to my chest. I tilt my chin up and arch my back to give him better access. I peer down at him through my lashes as he closes his mouth around a nipple. His grin is deliciously devilish. I missed this so much—this connection that shakes the world around me. I can’t get close enough quickly enough. All the beautiful words from his letter solidify everything. All of my fears and preconceived notions about our relationship dissipated after he confessed everything face to face. Love is louder than anything else. It comes before anything else.

  “I want to stay,” he growls, his mouth pressing kisses into the skin on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair to feel him near me. It’s almost unreal to have him here in my world after everything that happened. I gently pull his head to bring his lips back to mine…exactly where I want them.

  I feel him smiling against my mouth. “What?” I ask, pulling myself up to kiss the tattoo on his neck with my tongue and then each dimple.

  He presses his hot lips on my neck and trails them over to my ear. Goosebumps break across my entire freaking body. One Maverick move sets me on fire. “It’s been a while,” he whispers. “I’ll try to remember how to do it.”

  “Let me help,” I say, taking his shoulders to hoist myself up. I push him back on the copious amounts of throw pillows and smile. It reminds me how badly I wished he were with me when we had our sexy Skype call. He tosses a few on the floor, never taking his eyes off me. “What should we do next? It’s been a while for me, too,” I admit. He licks his lips. I suck my bottom lip.

  Maverick groans a painfully turned on noise. He is standing completely erect, pointing at the ceiling like a compass needle points north. The sight of it reminds me how wet I am. Which is basically the state I live in when he’s in the same vicinity…naked or otherwise. I straddle his knees and lean over to let a strand of spit fall from my mouth onto the head of his sex.

  “No one can hold a candle, right?” I ask, flicking my gaze up to meet his. He’s stopped breathing altogether and his hazel eyes are transfixed on me, on himself. His mouth drops open a little more when I let my head fall closer to where he wants it to go. His hips automatically thrust up to meet my lips. He closes his eyes when I take him in deep and delicately wrap my hand around him, and start moving both at the same time.

  Careful not to use my teeth, I swirl my tongue and rise and fall at a slow pace. I see Maverick’s fists bunching my quilt out of the corner of my eye. He mumbles nonsense and I hear my name thrown in every few words. His face is that of pure, unfettered ecstasy. Suddenly his eyes fly open to meet mine.

  “Okay,” he breathes out. “Enough.” He slides me up to straddle the top of his chest. I can feel his heart hammering away against my core. It turns me on so much that I can’t see straight. “I want to taste you,” he rasps, his heavy, hooded eyes letting me know he’s telling and not asking. I place my index finger on his thick bottom lip and pull it down. His eyes are pleading now. With the same finger, I circle his mouth and dip my finger inside. He sucks it, flicking it with his tongue. My muscles clench in response.

  “How do I taste?” I ask as I pop my finger out of his mouth. Grabbing my thighs, he guides me forward until my sex is directly on his mouth. He kisses it lightly, letting his tongue dip inside. I sigh because it feels so freaking good, pleasure blasts through every nerve ending in my body.

  “Fucking mouthwatering,” he replies, lifting his head to lick and suck more aggressively. I try to keep my hips from rocking, but I can’t. Maverick puts his hands on my ass to try to still me as he works. I glance down and the sight of how turned on he is makes what he’s doing even more pleasurable. Kissing turns to licking, which turns into his skilled tongue flicking just the right spot at just the right pace. I throw my head back and close my eyes. When his mouth pulls away I peek down. He’s pushing my hips down his body. Foreplay is over. His lips, glisten with me as he says, “It’s gonna be quick so I didn’t finish you off. Are you close?” Maverick asks, positioning me over his throbbing member.

  “I’m close,” I whisper, moving his hand aside. I slide the tip inside me. “And you totally have perfect recall. No problems with your memory there,” I say, sliding down his shaft until it’s all the way in, hitting the back, filling me completely.

  Maverick’s eyes close as a hiss escapes his lips. “I did actually forget how amazing you feel,” he growls, taking my hips into his huge, hot hands. He pulls me up using only his biceps and pushes me back down…hard. It feels so good that I throw my head back and scream his name over and over. Like it’s my new mantra or something I don’t want to forget. He impales me repeatedly until the rhythm is so perfect I know I won’t be able to hold back much longer.

  He flips me under him so my back is pressed on the bed and he keeps up the same pace, except the angle is different, and I cry out from the pleasure blasting through my body. I come and I come and I come, tightening around him, and losing all thought process. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pounds into me at a furious pace, taking me, claiming me as I spasm around him. A few more strokes and he’s coming inside me, hot and intense. I feel each strong spurt as it blasts into me as deep as it can possibly go. He rocks his hips a few more times as his orgasm jerks through his body, and then he collapses on top of me, a sweet, sweaty mess of perfection.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper, burying my face into his neck. “I love you, Mav.” His face, which was buried in a pillow, turns so he’s looking at the side of my cheek.

  “Say it again,” he demands, voice raspy.

  I turn my own head to meet his gaze. “I love you. I love you. I love everything about you.”

  “Because I just rocked your fucking world?” His dimples pop. He looks so freaking hot right now, freshly fucked, and with love oozing out of every pore that I can barely stand it. He’s still inside me so I rock my hips to feel him deeper. I feel him watching me. My eyes flutter closed. He rocks into me again. I hear him laugh. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Can’t even give me a straight answer huh?” He pulls out and rolls to his side next to me. I roll to my side too, so we’re face to face—heart to heart. I stare into his eyes and just breathe, coming down from my post orgasm high. I smile at him as he watches me.

  Maverick cups my face in his hand. “You say you love me. Why? Why do you love me? How can you love me? Convince me,” he says, curiosity lighting his face. He doesn’t think I’ll be able to do it…with good reason, too. A year ago I would have no idea how to respond. I don’t think I even knew what love really was. He still thinks I don’t. But I do. I trace his lips with my fingers and bring my hand down to rest over his heart.

  “I love
you because behind the steel plates, narrowed eyes, and perpetually convincing ‘tough guy’ act you put up, you are soft—soft in all the places that matter. I love you because when you love something, you do it with all of your heart. Halfway or a quarter of the way isn’t an option. It’s all or nothing. I love that when you make up your mind, that’s it…the decision is made. I wish I could have an ounce of that ability, but I don’t need it when I’m with you because we balance each other out. I love that when you start a hobby, it becomes your passion. Passion is rare, and I can’t even calculate the amount that hums around you at any given moment. I love the way you look at me like you know exactly what I’m thinking, even when you don’t. I just love the way you look at me—like my eyes or face will fix something inside you. With a man like you, I feel helpless to contribute anything to our relationship. It drives me crazy. Then I realized I don’t have to match you stroke for stroke. All I have to do is love you. And I do. I love you. More than I even thought possible. Being away from you is torture. I want to fight with you and make up with you and live life with only you. I don’t need you in my life, Maverick. I want you in it to make life worth living.”

  I’ve shocked Maverick Hart. He’s wide-eyed and gaping when I finish. Holding my head in his hands, he kisses me. Long and deep, just lips and breaths.

  Into my mouth he whispers, “Thank you, Win.” It’s his only response other than his kiss. And I’m glad I finally had the nerve to admit it.

  I should have told him that the second I figured it out. I know his thank you is all-encompassing and I don’t ask him to explain. When he breaks our kiss, he trails his hand over the side of my body, gliding over my hip and ending between my legs—his fingers rubbing the insane wetness between my thighs. I prop my knee up so he can look.