THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,64

high school. Of course it never got used.

“Why does that sound like a horrible idea and a bad case of blue balls?” Maverick growls from the bed. I can only laugh. He already knows what’s inside my head—what I want to do to him. Maybe along with his lie detecting he can also read minds. Nothing would surprise me at this point.

I tell him to turn away and not to look until I tell him to. I slide off my nightshirt and pull the scrap of lace over my head. It hugs me like a glove. I remove my panties because to be the ultimate tease, I plan to show him everything he’s refusing to partake in…and dance on his lap. A little dirty, but I’m sure he can handle it. A box catches my eye. It’s poking out of Maverick’s leather overnight bag. He’s not looking so I investigate further. Because it looks like a box of condoms and I know it can’t be. But it is. A 24 pack of extra large sized schlong wrappers. I feel like I just found my Christmas presents and I’m about to get busted. Shit.

“I’m ready for it. Whatever depraved act you have planned…I’m ready,” Maverick says, his head still turned away. With the knowledge of the condoms my confidence falters a little. Dancing or stripping or doing many of the sexual things with Maverick are things I never, ever did in my past. All of it comes from the need to be creative—no sexual intercourse makes for interesting, hot foreplay. Dampness creeps between my legs at the mere thought. Turning him on equals turning me on.

I yank on the bottom of the stretchy black lace. “Okay. You can look n-o-ow,” I stutter. Real freaking sexy, Windsor. Why did I have to see the box? I would be dancing with the same confidence as the pros at the Spearmint Rhino if I didn’t look in his bag. Crap.

Maverick shifts in the bed and stares at me. He continues staring at me. And he also looks like he wants to devour me…and I haven’t so much as moved an inch. I shoot him a weak smile.

“Depraved enough?” I ask, running my hands down my sides. He nods. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his feet planted solidly on the floor. His abs flex when he moves, and even just sitting there shirtless, they are on full display.

Mustering courage, I bite my lip and sashay up to him, using my best sexy walk. The seventeen year old me who slept a thousand nights in this room would never believe the almost-thirty year old me has this man in this bed. She’d demand photographic evidence.

He reaches both his arms out the second I get close enough to grab. I shake my pointer finger at him. “No, no, no. Touching isn’t allowed,” I say. He makes a big show of folding his hands in his lap and flashing his fucking dimples. No fair.

“You are so fucking hot, baby,” he says. I feel hot. He makes me feel it. I bring both of my hands up and run them through my hair. His eyes cut to my thighs that expose the millisecond I raise my arms. A few more centimeters and he’ll see my goods. I sway my hips back and forth, my bare feet on the wooden floor making the only noise. “Hold that thought,” he growls.

Maverick grabs his iPhone off the nightstand and turns on a classic rock song. Smiling, using both of his freaking dimples again, he sets the phone back on the nightstand. He nods at me. I never stopped moving in the first place. Now I let my hips rock back and forth, swaying and moving to the beat. Rubbing the side of my thigh, I bring my hand in between my legs and caress myself. I bite my lip, but never take my eyes of his.

He lays his hands on the top of his head and watches me in that predatory way as I move. I turn around and bend all the way over, baring myself completely. He lets out a whoosh of air. I peek at his face. It’s a firm mix of indecision and lust. His eyes are glued to my ass, while his chest works overtime to keep up with his rapid breathing. “You like?” I ask.

“You just passed depraved and moved into wicked territory,” he whispers so low I’m not even sure if