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)
I internally berate myself for going down that rabbit hole mere minutes after I’ve gotten what I want, which is time with Maverick.
I bring our clasped hands to my lips and kiss his knuckles, finding myself wanting to know about all the things I’ve missed over the past two weeks and wishing I could have seen him with his family. He’s clearly close to them the same way I am to mine. Or as close as I can be when they live in Florida.
“Tell me what you did,” I say. “How’d you spend your time? I want to know more about your parents. Did you play hockey with your dad? Tell me about your mom and her filter-less antics.”
“I played some hockey and spent time with Kody, which was good. Lavender and I had a heart-to-heart, I guess you could call it.”
“Was that a good conversation? What did you talk about?”
His jaw ticks. “Yeah, it was . . . helpful, I guess. We talked about what happened at the carnival when she went missing. I’ve never wanted to bring it up with her, because she’d already lived through it. Why make her do it again, you know? But it’s been weighing pretty heavy on me lately, as you know. Anyway, she set some things straight for me, and that was good.”
I squeeze his hand. “That’s great. Do you feel better now? Less like it’s yours to own?”
He blows out a breath. “I think so. Or at least it’s starting to feel that way. I think I also didn’t want to ask because if her answer had been different, all that guilt I’ve been holding on to would’ve been even heavier. But I’d been spinning all these worst-case scenarios, and it felt like they were eating me alive. Fuck. This got heavy real fast.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, things are better, and that’s what’s important. And now I’m here with you, which is the icing on the cake of this holiday.”
I let it go for now, not wanting to push him, but relieved that there’s finally been some healing for him where his sister is concerned. “What else did you do? Did you spend a lot of time with the rest of your family?”
“Oh yeah, my grandparents came to stay with us for a while, so the house was basically a zoo. My Gram-pot is pretty awesome.”
“Gram-pot?” I must have heard that wrong.
“Yeah. He’s a chemist. Spent his career developing medical marijuana strains. He snuck me a couple of cookies without my dad knowing—you know, ’cause they perform random drug tests when you play on the school teams.”
“And your dad wouldn’t like that, obviously.”
“I could get cut from the team if they found out, and potentially lose my shot at the NHL. Weed is pretty tame, but they still don’t want us putting that stuff in our bodies.”
“But you took the risk?” It’s a bit shocking how cavalier he is about it.
“I needed the escape from my head and drinking myself into oblivion didn’t seem like a good alternative. One cookie isn’t going to stay in my system that long. It’s more if it becomes a habit that it’s a problem. My younger brother smokes a lot, but he’s not interested in a professional football career, so he’s not too worried. And he needs something to mellow him out.”
“Should I be worried that you needed a cookie to escape your head?”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Wait until after we’ve fucked each other into next week before you start psychoanalyzing me, Clover.”
I bite his knuckle.
“You wanna use those teeth anywhere else, you know you’re more than welcome.”
I glance at his crotch, which has a prominent bulge. “I’m sure there are places you don’t want me to use teeth.”
“Well, not like—” He gnashes his together a couple of times. “But a light, teasing graze is always welcome—more like when I nibble on your clit.”
I groan and cross my legs, the memory of his mouth between them causing everything to clench. “How much longer until we’re in Pearl Bay?”
“About twenty minutes.” A smirk tips the corner of his mouth. “The center console is a pretty crappy obstruction. Otherwise, I’d offer to stick my hand down your pants.”
I bark out a laugh, then bite my lip and glance between Maverick’s face and his crotch. “I could stick my hand down your pants, though.”
His top lip curls. “I appreciate the offer, sweetheart, but I need to keep my attention on the road, and if my cock is in your hand, I’m going to be hella distracted. You could put your hand down your own pants.”
“Hmm.” I tap my lip. “Now that’s a good idea. Then maybe we can skip some of the extensive foreplay and get to the good stuff faster.”
Maverick makes a face. “The foreplay is the good stuff.”