THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,76

two,” he whispers.

I shiver again, because I can’t freaking help myself. Having him close completes me in some odd way. I didn’t even feel like this when I was engaged to Nash—something that scares the shit out of me. I would have lived an entire life without this feeling.

He glances over my head into the kitchen. “Lets eat first. You cooked,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“I can cook, Maverick. I use a recipe like a normal human, but I can cook. And no,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Give me the present now. I hate surprises and I don’t do well with anticipation.” I smile. He laughs.

“It seems to me you do quite well with anticipation.” He disentangles our limbs and grabs a scrap piece of paper from the side pocket of his bag. “I hate to drag it out, but you’re going to have to wait a few more minutes. I have to go grab something,” he confesses with a lazy smile. I nod. He disappears into a hallway. When he returns he’s holding a beautiful wood-grain acoustic guitar.

I’m pretty observant, but I still won’t believe what I’m thinking until it’s a done deal. A scrap of paper and a guitar? A song? For me? Holy shit.

My stomach gets all light when he levels me with his gaze and says, “I wrote you a song.” He clears his throat. This. Is. Real. “I’ve never done this before. I usually just jam with my buddies. Bear with me.” His face is a mask of frightened anxiety. His eyes are a little wider than they usually are and the crinkles by his temples are absent. I’m sure the smile I beam back at him is the goofiest, most unattractive thing my face is capable of, but I can’t control it. Or my mouth.

“Are you serious? Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m totally about to have a heart attack over here…or maybe vomit…or something unsightly and embarrassing. You wrote a song for me? That’s the type of thing that only happens in movies and passionate romance novels. It definitely does not happen to me,” I gush.

Damn it. I realize I’m bouncing on the sofa like an animal at the zoo. Not quite at Tom Cruise on Oprah level, but still bad. Trying to assemble some degree of control, I cross my legs and scoot to the edge of the couch. He drops down in the leather chair directly across from me. He’s chuckling under his breath as he twirls some of the knobs on the end of the guitar. I memorize the way he looks right now because I never want to forget this. If it ends badly, which I don’t even think about anymore, I’ll always have this moment. I’ll lock it up so it stays untainted by anything that happens after it. It’s mine.

He strums the strings a few times and then continues fiddling with the knobs. More strumming that already sounds like perfection fills the room. He lays the paper in front of him on the table. Keeping his head down, his eyes flick up to meet mine. Dimples arrive a second later. I squeal. “You’re starting,” I guess. He does.

A haunting guitar solo fills the air. My huge smile fades as I listen to him play. His eyes close as he gets lost in the melody. It’s beautifully simple in pattern, but something bittersweet laces the notes. I find myself leaning toward him, the sensation to comfort him uncontrollable. The muscles of his forearms stretch and flex as he plays. It’s soft, not like bench pressing heavy weights, or carrying big, manly guns. This is a whole new side of Maverick. It’s sensitive. His fingers buzz over the strings with ease and grace.

Then he begins to sing.

His voice is low, soothing, and raspy. It’s freaking hot.

If I asked for forever would you run from right now?

If I gave you a promise would you want to know how?

I need to breathe you inside me til’ I know you can’t leave.

Forever is too long but it’s what feeds my greed.

You twist me in knots, you break me in two.

I want you. You’re everything.

I want you.

I do.

His lips curl around the last words and he looks at me. His gaze steady, questioning.

If I asked you for forever would you run from right now?

My jaw is practically on the floor. His long fingers glide over the strings, repeating the melody from the beginning of the song. I’m glad. It gives