me. Windsor stands, wipes her mouth off the back of her hand, and then leaps into my arms. I collapse back on the bed, taking her with me.
“That was the best not sex of my life. Just so you know,” I say, still trying to rein in my breathing. She props herself up on her elbows to look at me, a huge smile stretching across her satisfied face.
“Seriously? That really means something…given your extracurricular activities. I’m sort of honored,” she replies. She does this tiny fake bowing motion. What I want to say is that she could have given me the worst blow job of my life—all teeth with no clue what the fuck she was doing –and it still would have been better than a deep throating porn star. Because it’s her. I don’t say that though.
“I’m serious,” I say, kissing her shoulder because it’s bare and it’s right there taunting me. “You are amazing.” She kisses me back, whispering sweet things in my ear. She gets under the sheets and lies down on my side of the bed. I change my mind for the third and final time. This is my new favorite sight. This time though? It scares me.
And then I know. I’ve fumbled with my fucked up thoughts long enough to know why I can’t fuck Windsor. If I do, what I feel would be too real—because it won’t be fucking or bagging or laying pipe.
It will be making love. And then she will own me forever without even knowing it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Windsor
“IF I KNEW you could cook I probably wouldn’t have disappeared on Halloween,” I say, teasing. I feel like a real bitch for that move. Making fun of it makes me feel better. Hopefully it makes him feel better too.
I’m sitting at his dining table, an industrial chrome masterpiece, wearing only his t-shirt. He’s making lunch. A very late lunch. We just left his bedroom for the first time in three hours. I’m all weak-limbed and deliriously happy. We didn’t even have sex. Oh, but now I can picture it so vividly that it’s almost enough. Almost. I have never thrown caution to the wind like I did with Maverick. The liberating feeling was a rush. I didn’t worry about if I was doing something right or if my butt looked big. He made me feel comfortable in my own skin without even trying.
“How exactly did you disappear that night? A security guard told me you left in a taxi, which I’m beginning to think is not a fact,” Maverick says.
“Your human lie detector must be off kilter.” I smile. “Gretchen picked me up. She owed me that night for…well, you remember what happened,” I trail off. So damn embarrassing. He turns back to the stove and I take this opportunity to check my messages.
“You should really be a little more thankful. I think she does fine work,” he says, laughing. I groan.
It’s not because Maverick seems to have forgotten about the second-degree burns Gretch graced me with, but my mother called and texted me today. One of them reads I need you. She’s stooping to new levels to get my attention. She couldn’t be bothered to call or visit or be a mother during most of my formative years, but now she needs me. She wants me to visit her.
I sigh. “I have to visit my Mom soon. I read on Google that Navy SEALs go through some pretty horrible, intense training. You don’t sleep for days, they torture you, and so on.” I swallow. I’m about to ask him something I never thought I’d ask anyone else for the rest of my life. “I know you have some time off before you leave, you know, to deploy. Do you want to partake in my personal brand of torture? Maybe visit Kathy with me?” He’s leaving in a month. I think it’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. It’s sort of scary, and odd because I have no idea what I expect when he leaves. Will he pause the relationship and we’ll just pick back up when he returns? “I have no idea why she wants me to visit. We’re like oil and water. She’s horrible, Maverick.”
Still shirtless, he comes over to me. He lifts my chin up. “I would be delighted to meet your mom. If she’s half as horrible as you make her sound maybe I can scare her a little for you. Throw off the bad guy vibe,” he