Maverick
Page 17
By the time he got back to the front of the house, Connor was halfway over the large drift and clutched in his hands were two shovels. One was big and one was just the right size for a ten year old.
“Guess those were on the porch,” he said, grabbing the large shovel from Connor. “What do you say we dig in and get this done?”
The two of them worked for well over an hour. The snowfall had been significant and by the time Maverick managed to get the walkway up to the house shoveled as well as the porch and the sidewalk, he’d worked up one hell of an appetite.
His shadow hadn’t said one word, but Connor had dug in and he’d done a fair bit of work for such a little guy.
“What do you want for lunch?” Maverick asked as he took Connor’s coat. The boy shrugged and glanced toward the kitchen. Maverick had a feeling he was going to do most of the talking, but he was okay with that.
“I guess we’ll have to see what you have in there, but first we need to wash up.” Maverick frowned. “Is there a washroom down here?”
Connor turned and took off down the hallway, pushing open a door near the back entrance. It was a small half bath with just enough room for a sink and toilet. Connor turned on the water, while Maverick squirted soap onto his palm before handing over the container to his companion.
He stood behind the boy, smiling down at the sweaty curls as Connor methodically washed every inch of his hands. Once he was done, he grabbed the faded blue hand towel and then handed it to Maverick.
“This what we call teamwork, bud,” Maverick said with chuckle.
The two of them headed back to the kitchen and in less than half an hour, they were sitting at the small table eating mac & cheese and hotdogs. Maverick grabbed a beer and poured Connor an apple juice.
He took a bite of his hotdog and held up his beer can, eyes on the boy to see what he’d do. Connor chewed his hotdog, eyes on the can and when he swallowed his food, he reached for his glass. At first he didn’t do anything but Maverick waited patiently for nearly thirty seconds, and when the little guy held up his glass, Maverick clinked his can against it.
“Cheers,” he said, eyes still on Connor. “Because we’re real men, now is when we take our celebratory drink.”
Again he waited for Connor and when the boy slowly brought his glass to his mouth, Maverick did the same. They each took a good pull from their respective beverages and when Maverick set down his can, he winked.
“We’ll have to do that again, don’t you think? Being real men and all.”
Connor dug into his bowl of mac & cheese with gusto and, damn, Maverick thought that he must be turning soft. Something about this little boy got to him. Even something as simple as watching him eat brought a lump to his throat.
“When I was a kid we’d go up to my aunt and uncles place on a lake. In the winter we’d spend hours outside playing hockey. And when we were done.” He pointed at their feast. “This right here? This is what our reward was. My aunt Eden still makes the best mac & cheese and dogs you’ll find anywhere. Hands down. But these are pretty good, don’t you think?”
A slight nod was his answer.
We’re moving in the right direction.
They cleaned up their dishes, Maverick washing and drying them quickly, while Connor put them away. The kid might not say much but he was helpful, Maverick would give him that.
A quick glance at the clock told him that he had a couple of hours to go before Charlie was due back.
“Connor, where’s the keyboard I sent over?”
That was all it took. The little guy’s face lit up like a light bulb and he dashed from the kitchen, Maverick on his heels, and headed for the front room. The furniture had been moved around to make room for the keys, and Connor climbed onto the bench, his face a mask of concentration as he immediately began to play the song that Maverick had taught him days earlier.
Connor was good. His memory was sharp and the dexterity in his fingers was something else for such a young child. But more than that, he had feel. Maverick heard it in the notes and saw it in the way he held his head—the way he moved to the piece.
“Connor, buddy, you’re a natural.”
Music was a living, breathing thing. It wove its way into the fabric of everyday life. It was in the hum of electricity and in the rolling tires of the big rigs on the highway. It was the summer breeze, the foamy waves off the ocean and in the cries of a newborn. Maverick felt sorry for those who couldn’t see it or feel it or open themselves up to it.
But this kid, well, he got it.
Maverick slid onto the bench beside Connor and began to play another simple piece. This one was full of minor chords and was a bit melancholy, but at the moment, it’s what Maverick felt.
Connor listened and slowly began to join in, adding bits and pieces here and there. But they were bits and pieces that fit. His ear was good and Maverick marveled at how well he’d adapted in such a short period of time.
The two of them traded off for what seemed like hours, but in truth, it wasn’t all that long. When Maverick finished in a dramatic flurry of classical notes, he grinned down at the kid, but his smile soon vanished.
Connor was looking up at him, his little hands frozen on the keys, his pale eyes shiny and bright. But the expression in them was haunted. It sent chills down Maverick’s spine.
“Hey, you all right, bud?”
For a few seconds there was silence, and then Connor spoke. His voice high and thin.
“My daddy died.”
Three words that packed a powerful punch, and it was a hit that Maverick felt in his bones.
He cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off of Connor. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Connor’s fingers started tapping along the keys. Not hard enough to pull out a note, but his fingernails made a clack-clack-clack sound, as if he was typing out his emotions.
“He died out there.”
Maverick wasn’t exactly sure what Connor meant and kept quiet, watching him closely.
“We were together. In there.” Connor banged out a couple notes—hard angry notes. “I was with him.”
Maverick was shocked. Utterly shocked. He reached forward and gently placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder. The little boy banged out a couple more angry notes and then let his hands fall to his side.
“My daddy liked songs.”
With those words, Connor Samuels managed to burrow deep into Maverick’s heart. He inched closer to the boy, wanting to comfort him but not really knowing what to do.
So he did what he’d do if he were with one of his cousins, or his brother Cooper. He patted the little guy’s shoulders and when Connor eventually deflated and rested his head against Maverick, he drew him into a hug and didn’t let go.
Not for a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-four
By eight o’clock Connor was tuckered out. Several days of fresh air had caught up to him and Charlie took him to bed. Truthfully, she needed a few minutes away from the man who’d done nothing but occupy her thoughts all day.
Maverick Simon was a man who lived in a world she couldn’t imagine and he was also a man who was used to women much more sophisticated than she could ever be.
Seriously. Donovan James and Elle Mason? Really?
“Don’t do this to yourself,” she muttered as she tucked Connor into bed. She kissed her brother’s brow and folded the top cover under his chin. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes bright, and she marveled at the change in him.
“You had fun today, didn’t you?” she asked softly.
He nodded, those pale eyes of his wide and suddenly serious. “I like Rick.”
Should she be surprised? Not really.
Should she be concerned? Hell yes.
“I do too,” she replied. “But he’s just a friend and we don’t know how long he’ll be in Fisherman’s Landing. You understand that, right?”
Connor watched her intently for a few moments and then nodded. “I still like him.”
Charlie made sure Connor’s nightlight was on and then headed downstairs. Rick was in the family room, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he stared out into the night. His back was to her, so for a few moments Charlie had the luxury of drinking him in, unnoticed. Her gaze moved from the thick waves atop his head, down to his wide shoulders, long torso and tapered waist. And his butt. Wow. The man had a nice ass. His legs were spread and every single inch of him was all, hard-bodied man.
From her vantage, he looked larger than life. Or maybe she just wasn’t used to having a man in the house. Okay. She knew she wasn’t used to having a man in the house, and she reminded herself that she’d better not get used to it.
He turned suddenly—as if he knew she was there—and she swallowed at the look in his eyes.
“Come here,” he said. It wasn’t a request, and her feet were moving before her brain could even process his words. She slid into his arms as if she belonged there and closed her eyes, wanting to believe that very thing.
Rick held her close, his heart a steady beat near her ear. It sounded corny, but she could have stood like that for hours. Just feeling him. Listening to him. Enjoying the presence of a man in her home.
“Hey, you’re shivering,” he murmured against her hair.
And she was.
“We should talk,” Rick said slowly. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions.”
“I’ve got one or two knocking around inside my head.” That would be an understatement.
“We’ll talk. I promise. But before we do, I’ve got an idea,” Rick said, his voice husky as he angled her head so that she could see him.
“What’s that?”
That slow grin she was growing way too used to seeing spread across his face, and he rubbed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
“When I was here the last time, I noticed you have a big old tub in your bathroom.”
“I do,” she replied slowly. It was an antique, complete with clawed feet and deep enough for two. Or three. Hell, maybe even four.
His one hand slid down to rest on the small of her back. “Well, darlin’, I’ve thought of nothing but getting you naked since I left and that bathtub might be a good place to start.”
“Huh. I can’t remember the last time I took a bath, it’s really not my thing,” she said. “But I suppose I could be persuaded.”
He bent down and his teeth grazed the hollow of her neck, sending a whole new pack of shivers rolling across her flesh.
“You might not want to ever shower again.”
Rick claimed her mouth in a hot, open kiss, but it was a teaser and meant only to entice. And when he dragged his lips from hers, she sagged against him because her knees were suddenly filled with jelly.
Without a word, he guided her ahead of him, back up the stairs. They didn’t stop until they reached her bedroom and Rick walked straight through to her bathroom. She heard him turn on the water and when he appeared in the doorway, he was shirtless. Quiet. Intense.
Her heart was pounding so badly that she was pretty sure he could hear it. Hell, if the neighbors didn’t hear it knocking against her ribcage, it would be a miracle.
Mouth dry, she walked toward him and stopped a few inches away. There was a push-pull going on inside her—the need to take a chance on something uncertain, versus the need to retreat.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he said, his voice low and thick. “Your eyes are the most amazing shade of blue I’ve ever seen.” His breath was shallow. “It’s strange isn’t it?” he asked, reaching for her.
She let him pull her forward and arched her back slightly when he tugged on the edge of her shirt. “What’s that?”
Rick pulled the cotton long sleeve up over her head and tossed it to the floor. He kissed her shoulder, a long finger running underneath her bra strap. “I almost decided to head to the Caribbean for a few weeks instead of coming here.”
“Oh,” she managed to say when he bent his head and his hot mouth closed over the tip of her breast. The fabric from her bra, combined with his talented tongue, had her moaning and leaning into him. It felt that good.
“It’s almost as if fate was telling me something.”
He gave one last tug, the edge of his teeth grazing her hard nipple, and then blew on her as he gazed up at her with a wicked glint.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Good,” she managed to say.
His grin widened. “Well, I’m going to have to up my game. I can’t settle for good when I was aiming for freaking amazing.”
Oh God. She was already on fire, filled with red-hot desire and the man had barely touched her.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
He laughed and scooped her into his arms as easily as if she was a small child and headed back into the bathroom. The air was warm, the tub nearly full and Rick bent over to turn off the tap.
The muscles in his shoulders and back were something else. She could watch him all day long.
He straightened and leaned his hip against the tub. “Take your clothes off.”
Charlie arched an eyebrow, managing to dig deep and find some bit of cheek. “Take yours off first.”
His eyes smoldered and without hesitation, he unzipped his jeans and kicked them off along with his socks, leaving him standing before her in a pair of white athletic Calvin’s that left nothing to the imagination. That grin was still in place when he slipped his thumbs beneath the waistband and slid his boxers down his hips.
“Well,” she said, eyeing his erection. “That certainly looks promising.”
“Your turn,” he said.
Sweat covered his body, emphasizing his abs and stomach and without another word, she unclipped her bra, loving the way his eyes were glued to her chest. She tossed it onto the floor next to his jeans and then slowly tugged her pants past her hips, smiling when she heard his sharp intake of breath.
“If I had known you were commando, we wouldn’t have made it to dinner.”
She stepped out of her pants and walked to him. “If I had known we wouldn’t make it to dinner, I might have told you exactly what was going on underneath my pants.”
“That would be a whole lot of nothing,” he said, eyes smoldering as he reached for her.
Rick picked her up and stepped into the tub. Carefully he turned around, placing her so that she faced away from him and was between his legs. The slid into the hot water until they were both submerged and settled back. The sensation of hot, silky water sliding over her skin while she leaned against a hard male body was heavenly. She closed her eyes, smiling when his hands slid across her belly to pull her in closer.
His erection strained against her back and she was just about to do something with it, when he reached for the soap.
She watched him lather up and bit her lip when his hands slid across her breasts.
“Jesus,” she whispered, loving the way it felt to have his hands on her.
His fingers gently tugged her nipples, sending ripples of fire across her skin that had nothing to do with the piping hot water. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the pleasure as he kneaded her breasts before travelling back to her shoulders, where he massaged tight muscles until she was loose and pliant.
Rick bit her shoulder, a gentle tug that made her groan, and then lathered his large hands up again, this time heading south to her abdomen. His fingers were like magic, working their way over her stomach, to her hips and then down to her thighs.
His hands were everywhere, it seemed, but where she wanted them and she tried to angle her hips, but he laughed and held her down.
“Not yet,” Rick whispered near her ear.
Charlie exhaled and arched her back as much as she could, pushing her butt back
onto his erection.
“You’re playing dirty,” Rick gasped near her ear.
“Yeah, I am.”
Water sloshed over the top of the tub as she gripped the edge and maneuvered herself around so that she was facing him. She flipped a long wet curl over her shoulder and straddled Rick, smiling when she heard him groan.
Her hands sank into his damp hair and she kissed him. It was a long, slow, hard kiss. And as she delved deeper, her tongue exploring, coaxing and tasting, she edged closer to his erection.
“Babe, wait.”
Charlie was done. She slid over him, across him, her swollen folds teasing just as her mouth did the same to his. She continued her assault, eyes open and watching him. Oh the pleasure that gave her.
Charlie marveled at how his eyes darkened to near black. How his nostrils flared. And how the muscles across his shoulders bunched beneath her.
He was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it.
And he’s mine.
The thought slid through her mind like a fierce whisper and she stilled, eyes still on his, chest heaving and body aching with the need to connect to this man.
“Charlie?” he asked roughly, hands on her hips. She saw the questions in his expression, the wariness that crept into his eyes, and she swept his hair back, holding him close, as close as she could, so afraid this moment would end.
Why was she afraid?
“I need you inside me right now,” she said, suddenly desperate. And the weird thing was she knew it had nothing to do with sex. It was more. And that was scary.
“Charlie.”
But she ignored him and eased her body over his, slowly. So. Fucking. Slow.
“Jesus Christ, Charlie,” he said, grabbing hold of her hips. He was still for a moment, as if trying to keep some kind of control, and then he began to move.
He thrust up and filled her completely and she joined him, her rhythm in sync with his. Her body adjusted, taking every inch of him as deeply as she could. And oh, the feel of him inside her, the way he stretched her, the way he moved—it was something she’d never forget.