THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,68

dry humping, Mav. You don’t do anything normal, do you?” I tease.

I am so turned on that I have the ability to drive this animalistic man to orgasm without the use of normal means. I didn’t use my hands or my mouth. My sex clenches with the knowledge. It’s sultrier than sex—mind bending hotness, in every aspect. Maverick is so into me that he just creamed his panties. I could make a million jokes about it, but I don’t. Because the way he’s looking at me right now makes my heart hammer.

A sweet smile plays on his lips, and his hands caress me with the softest touch. No one has ever looked at me like this. Not even the man I was going to marry. This is new and butterflies automatically invade my stomach. I watch his throat as he swallows, his neck tattoo dancing.

He ignores my question completely. Stroking the side of my face he simply says, “You’re everything.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Maverick Hart was in love.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Maverick

SOMETHING HAPPENED AFTER I left Windsor in Georgia. I watched her drive away from the Atlanta airport after she dropped me off curbside, by my request, and I knew she’d forever changed me. I sat in that crazy fucking airport and thought about everything. I started to feel a little bad for John Nash, which pissed me off. Because I know Windsor is the type of person who is hard to get over. Maybe you never get over her, actually. You’d have to push the memory of her to the back and let her live there, quietly tapping your shoulder at any given second. Forgetting her completely isn’t an option. You need the reminder of her, and of how she affects you, to feel alive. At least I do and I assume any person who is close to her needs it too. I never want to try to get over her. My ultimate weakness has been exposed, ripped open so wide that I’ll never be able to fill the fucking gap with anything or anyone except her.

Stone grunts beside me, as he shifts to a seated position on his surfboard. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get back to Virginia tomorrow,” he says. The Pacific Ocean is fucking freezing cold, even through our 3-millimeter wet suits. The waves in Pacific Beach, San Diego are worth it, though. We finished the dive training we came for, squeezed in a few skydives in Otay just for fun, and now we’re killing our last day catching some waves.

I paddle past him and stop. “Me too, dude. Me too.” I’m actually ready to get the hell out of California and this water. Not because I’m cold, but because I want to check my cell.

Windsor and I have been texting back and forth every day I’ve been gone. She tells me the crazy shit her mother says, and I tell her tiny snippets of my day. How deep I can dive. To which I responded, Just wait and find out. What type of flippers I use. What diving in black waters at night actually feels like. She asks me a lot of questions, and I secretly love it. No one has ever taken any interest in what I do. Certainly not my fucking family. The only people I care about are next to me doing the same damn thing, so that steals my thunder. Windsor wants every gory detail. Of course I can’t tell her most things about what I do, or what I’m training to do, but the fact that she cares is enough. She’s more than enough.

Stone rattles on next to me about how we’re going out to a bar tonight to meet up with the rest of the guys. The same guys that give me shit because I’m no longer bagging pussy every night I’m out. I’m not bagging anything. My cock hurts. In the beginning of my relationship with Windsor, I thought that not having sex was going to be the biggest challenge. How can I keep my dick to myself when the woman who I’m most attracted to on earth is bouncing up and down on my dick, only separated by fucking underwear? That night I thought I’d break, but I didn’t. Windsor knew something changed that night. Blue eyes told me so. The hardest thing is keeping my fucking mouth shut. If I tell her how strongly I feel about her, I know she’ll run. I should give