his breath. He catches up to me fast. Too fast. He grabs my arm to spin me around.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he breathes.
“No, I finished for you.”
“I regret the moment I laid eyes on you because you ruined everything, Windsor.” His grip lightens on my arm.
“That’s so much better, Maverick. Really,” I say, my anger wearing off and pure annoyance blistering to the surface. I’m annoyed that his touch is warm, and his words are confusing. I’m annoyed with myself that I can’t just walk away.
“I want you,” he says. “You said you didn’t know what I wanted from you. I’m telling you. I want you. I want you to be mine. That’s all I know for sure.”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “Unbelievable. I need a night to sleep on this epiphany of yours. The hot and colds are almost too much for me to keep up with,” I admit, still shaking my head. Denial. He’s said the words. Some part of me wants to believe them, but the skeptical part of my brain whispers other things.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face and cups my bare shoulder with his other hand. The magic shivers start again. He leans down and I have to work at controlling my shaking body. He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me. He swallows and the tattoo on his neck dances. I want to lick it. The desire is back in spades. I tilt my chin up, waiting.
And he hugs me. He gives me the awkward freaking hug. The one I give my boss when she gives me a gift card to Starbucks on my birthday. When he leans back, the one-dimpled smile is on his face. Even though I’m still mentally sorting out the hug, I want to lick that, too.
“I’ll call you. Bye, Windsor,” he says. It’s okay for him to fuck my name with his voice, but he definitely doesn’t want to have sex with me tonight. I am seriously in need of my therapist.
I watch him walk back to his car, which is still running, and try to decipher the Maverick code. I can’t. I probably won’t ever be able to. When I enter the condo I come to the conclusion that with a man like Maverick, you don’t try to decipher, you just ride the waves as they come and hope like hell you can hold on tight enough to enjoy the ride— or at the very least prevent yourself from drowning.
As I try to fall asleep several agonizing hours later, my phone chimes with a new text.
Are you awake? I got a new phone and number. It’s miraculously silent.
I stare at it blindly, trying to decide how best to respond.
I type back, I wish my head were as silent as your phone.
A second later. Go out with me tomorrow. All day. I’ll pick you up at 9.
Only if you promise not to awkward hug me ever again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maverick
I’VE KILLED MEN before. I watch their heads explode through the scope of my gun. I hate to break it to you, but it’s nothing like how it happens in Call of Duty. Blood sprays like a halo of red and then nothing. The crackle of life that hums in the air gets a little duller. Less life exists in the space surrounding me than it did only moments before. I don’t know how I can tell; it’s just like breathing, but death really is another sense.
After that trigger pull I feel release and a huge sense of accomplishment. After years and years of practicing, I get to do exactly what the Navy trained me to do. Of course directly following, I question my fucking sanity for the exaltation that comes with a snuffed life. It’s not about whom you kill. It’s about what you save. My brothers are beside me—like they always are, chasing down the same sense of enlivenment that only comes from this line of work. If the monsters on the other side of the scope don’t die, one of my brothers could. Or worse, an innocent.
Windsor is an innocent. She is so good that the opposite sense of death has reared its head. I have the urge to protect her. I want to protect her from all the bad around us. I get so caught up in her good and in the way she makes me feel that I forget that the main thing I should protect her