Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“This is perfect.” I brace my hands on his shoulders and lift as he positions himself at my entrance.
My eyes flutter closed as I take him inside on a needy sigh. When my ass rests on his thighs, I open my eyes and meet his gaze, which is laced with concern.
I link my fingers behind his neck. “How did you become exactly the person I need?”
He skims my cheek with his knuckle. “I don’t know, but I’ll love you for as long as you want me.”
Our mouths connect, and we make slow, gentle love, finding a fragment of peace within our connection, keeping the chaos of the world at bay, if only for a little while.
An hour later, his phone buzzes on his nightstand with a message. DAD appears on the screen, and Maverick picks up the phone and checks it.
“My mom is home, and dinner is in half an hour, if we’re interested.” He quirks a brow. “It’s okay if you’re not in the mood to deal with family dinner. This whole thing is a lot, and my mom . . . She’s intense on a good day.”
As much as I’d like to avoid the awkwardness of it all, if Maverick and I are going to try to make this work, I need to win over his mother. And with an ex-husband who isn’t technically an ex yet, and who also threatened to burn my cabin down yesterday, I’m climbing a serious uphill battle.
I must mull it over too long because Maverick adds, “I’ll tell them you’re still sleeping.”
I shake my head. “You don’t need to do that. I want to come.” I can’t hide from the reality I’ve created for myself. And I don’t want to do that to Maverick.
We get dressed, and I check my reflection in the mirror. There’s nothing I can do to hide the bruise on my cheek. Maverick laces his fingers with mine, and we leave the cocoon of the pool house. It’s built into the side of a hill to the left of the main house. The view from the backyard is stunning, and there’s a covered outdoor dining area, where his parents are currently setting up for dinner.
His mother’s gaze lifts as soon as we cross the patio and goes directly to our clasped hands. For a moment, she’s guarded, and then her eyes shift and settle on my face. The silverware she’s holding clatters to the table. “Oh my God.”
She rushes out to meet us. Her hands flutter around in the air and then she takes my free one in hers.
“Mom, careful, please,” Maverick chastises.
She looks down at my bandaged arm and releases my hand. “Oh, God. You poor thing. Are you okay? You should sit down.” She shoots a look over her shoulder at Alex, who’s wearing a grimace. “You didn’t tell me it was like this.”
He grips the back of his chair. “I didn’t really have much of an opportunity to explain, did I?”
She turns back, envelops me in a gentle hug, and whispers, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
Something in her tone and her unexpected affection tips the emotional scale, and much to my horror, a quiet sob works its way up my throat. I realize then that I’ve been in a state of shock. I haven’t even called Sophia to tell her what happened, or my parents. I’ve been in a tiny bubble, wading through my own disbelief and fears, trying to understand how all of this happened. And worrying about how my boyfriend’s mother is going to feel about my presence in her home. We might not need her permission to date, but Mav is so close to his family, and I want their acceptance on top of everything else.
“You must have been so brave.” She gives me a soft squeeze before she releases me. When she steps back, her eyes go wide in horror. “Oh, God. Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m fine. Just emotional. It’s been an intense twenty-four hours.”
“Of course, it has. And now you’re staying with your potential future in-laws while the nightmare you’ve been through gets sorted out, and our first and second introductions probably weren’t the best representation of either of us. I’d have the moops, for sure.”
“Mom.”
She looks at Maverick, whose expression reflects horror.
“What?”
“Can you be less . . .” His hands flail as he searches for the right word.
“No, honey. I can’t be less. It’s both part of my charm and the reason all of my children need therapy.” She gives him what looks to be a semi-apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I hope you’ll still visit me in the retirement home when I’m old and making penises out of clay during craft time.”
I choke on a laugh. Maverick wasn’t lying about his mother, or exaggerating. Not even a little bit.