THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,55

conquer the appliance. The minute after he leaves me alone, I hear knocking on a side door and I freaking panic. I don’t have much time to decide what to do because Stone blazes into the house.

I yank down the hem of Maverick’s shirt when he sees me. He stops in the middle of the living room, raises his hands over his head, and screams. I cover my ears because it’s so loud. “Fuck yeah!” Stone cries. “Morg, get your pretty little ass in here.” The door still wide open, Morganna walks through and closes it behind her. She shakes her head.

“God, Stone. Leave her alone,” Morg says to her husband, who seems to be in the middle of some weird freaking touchdown dance. To me, she says, “There’s rules, Windsor.” She sighs. “Even if I don’t agree with them I guess it’s time to spill them. We’ll talk later.”

I just stare at her. Rules? What in the hell does that even mean? I’m so shocked I forgot what I’m wearing and what I look like. This looks like I’m having a sex-filled romp at Maverick’s house. Of course they would assume the worst. Even though I feel like what we did was just as hot, and just as intimate, it still wasn’t sex. We’re going slow. Because Maverick wants to, and I think maybe that’s best for me too.

“I told you she would be here. I told you!” Stone says, pointing at Morganna. She swats at his outstretched hand. “Who is the king, baby? Who is the fucking king?” His dance shifts to some sort of robotic sway. Morganna looks to the ceiling, like she’s lost all patience and faith in humanity. I almost wish I wasn’t here so she didn’t have to endure Stone’s…dance moves.

“You’re the king, honey. You are,” she says, exasperated, merely placating him to save time.

I take this opportunity to flee into Maverick’s bedroom. At some point he grabbed my suitcase out of his car so I have all my things. I hear his shower running so I poke my head in and let him know he has guests. He seems surprised, but not really shocked. So, he does have houseguests that are “just friends.” It’s just the slutty variety he doesn’t allow in his personal realm.

The sight of him naked gives me pause. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at his perfect body.

His narrow waist frames his perfect V. You know the one. The caboose that belongs at the bottom of every mouthwatering ripple of his abs. All…six, no all eight of them. He told me working out is part of his job, that his body is a like a machine because it’s his craft, his tool, for doing anything that is required of him.

For all the hard curves I can’t help but know how easily a human life can be taken. With a deployment to God knows where looming, it makes it so much more real. Sure, I could die in a car accident on the way to my boring accounting job. But I don’t deal in death and danger as a profession. His calculated and uncalculated risks are so high they can’t be deciphered. I offer a weak smile and strip off my shirt, and enter the enormous shower with him. It’s a wet room, with showerheads everywhere. The solitary bottle of some sort of body wash or hair shampoo is on a shelf by his head. I have to laugh. He’s still just a guy.

His gaze is hungry as he watches me walk toward him. I brush against him as I grab the green bottle. There are a few other showerheads I could choose from, but I grab him around his waist instead. He pulls me against him as the hot water cascades over both of us. Every bone in my body softens against him.

“Morganna is pretty pissed. You should probably go corral your friend,” I say against is chest. He kisses me on the top of my head, then dips down and kisses my shoulder.

“You just got in here. Can’t I corral you first?” he asks. I shiver. Not from the cold.

His hard-on presses on my stomach and moves. “You’re so responsive,” I say. He cuts me off with his lips on mine. His tongue slides into my mouth and works in and out. I lean up to grab his face in my hands. It’s scruffy beneath my fingertips, so perfectly manly. He slides his fingers very slowly