THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,36

reason I let her do it was because I’m so worried about everything being perfect tonight. Sex with Maverick has been on my mind constantly since, well, since the first day I laid eyes on him. Now, it’s different. I can tell he has feelings for me, I also know he’s fighting them off. It’s the only reason I can come up with for a straight man to hold out on sex for so long. He wants me. I’ve ruined the damned night. I’ve ruined everything.

As I shimmy into the red, sequined mini dress, I vow not to let a burning crotch ruin his night. I will power through this like a Navy SEAL. I will not complain or whine. I won’t even beat the shit out of Gretchen for it. Right now, at least. I also realize I cannot wear underwear. It adds to my devil appeal. Right? Completing my look is a pair of devil horns and red lipstick.

Gretchen is nowhere in sight when I exit my room and find the sexiest man alive sitting on my couch. He looks out of place in a setting so plain, mundane. It’s like even my subconscious knows he should be doing something more manly, more dangerous, something more like…me. He’s dressed from head to toe in white. Both dimples are out as his gaze travels over my body. He stalks over to me in only a few strides. I wince a little when he picks me up and places a dry kiss on my lips. He sets me back down, letting my body slide down his. No panties. I have to remind myself, before I unwillingly give the world a peep show.

“I went for a pure look. To balance you out,” he rasps in my ear. Goosebumps break out all over my body. I feel another kiss on my neck. He backs away, holding my hand, to better appraise me. I laugh.

“You are far from pure, T.H.”

“I like when you call me that,” he says, following me back to my bedroom. I know he’s watching my ass, so I make sure to stick it out a little further.

“Well let me get my bag so I can spend the night at your house, yelling T.H. all night long,” I say, peeking over my shoulder. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s looking at my room and my things like they are artifacts in a freaking museum. “Like my room?” I ask. He nods, runs a finger over my dresser, and then faces me.

“I like it a lot. They say a room says a lot about a person. But I’m inclined to say a dress says more about a person.”

I slip on one of my red heels. “What does this dress say about me?” I put my other foot in the shoe, and Gretchen’s hack job throbs a little. A tiny cry escapes. His eyes immediately narrow. I won’t let a little tender skin ruin my night. I smile through the pain.

He pulls me tight to his chest. “It says you want to torture me all night long,” Maverick growls. His eyes flick to my bed. “It says you don’t even want to go to the party.” He backs me up to the edge, his hands skimming the bottom of my dress. Oh God. It can’t happen right now. I need the night to recover a little. I can’t do this now. I want to, but I can’t. Gretchen made sure of that. I push back on his broad chest. He lets me. I slip past him and grab my leather overnighter off a chair.

“Actually, I do want to go to the party,” I say. He takes the bag from my hands, but looks insanely confused. It’s better than him knowing I have a second-degree burn where I want his dick. “Later though.” God, it even sounds like a lie. He catches on right away and his confusion turns into something else.

He asks me at least five times if I’m okay during the ride to the bar. I reassure him I’m just excited to see his house and for the party. He peers at me while he drives, something he never does. I realize I won’t ever be able to get anything past Maverick. He’s not calling me out on my lies, but he knows I’m dishing them out. I wonder what he thinks is going on. I know with women what we think is always way worse than what actually happens.