Page 53 of August 20

She had no motives tonight.

A half-hour later, Maverick walked into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. From the bed, she smelled the scent of Irish Spring—the soap he used in the shower.

Skye must've fallen asleep soon after she'd told her good night. Brooke stayed on her side, facing the wall.

Maverick got in the bed without turning on the light. The mattress dipped. The heat rolling off him warmed her backside.

Goosebumps covered her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was impossible to fight her attraction to him when her body never shut off. Her mind could think of a thousand reasons to stay away from him, and her body quickly told her to shut up.

He rolled toward Brooke and wound his arm around her waist, pulling her across the mattress and planting her against him until he covered the entire length of her spine and the underside of her knees.

Cocooned, all her outside problems faded, and her body zeroed in on what Maverick was doing to her.

It wasn't a gun he held at her back. It was a hard cock demanding answers from her, and her body screamed yes.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered. "You wanted to kill me—"

"Couldn't kill you."

"But, you married me." Her heart pounded, needing answers.

Their relationship—their living arrangement was not normal. She lived the life of someone held hostage. There was no freedom for her, despite how much Maverick acted like their home life was perfect because he had Skye in his life.

"I want you."

Her body wound up tighter. If only that were true.

But there was a difference between wanting her and wanting her—especially since she had no choice.

"Is that why you forced me to marry you?"

His chest quivered, and he turned his head, coughing into the pillow. She'd pushed him to talk, and he suffered because of her.

"Skye needs—" He cleared his throat. "You."

Her head throbbed. She wanted to know his feelings toward her. Knowing their marriage came about because she took care of Skye made her feel used.

He rolled her until she was on her back and threw his leg over her thighs, pinning her to the bed. He pressed his hard cock against her hip.

"Stop thinking." He lowered his voice. "I want you."

He ducked his chin to his chest and held back a cough. All the fight went out of her. She hated to see him hurting, knowing the pain he lived with was because he'd gone into the house to save Skye and Janelle.

"I can't live like a prisoner," she whispered. "I can't have Skye seeing you dominating my life. I can't allow her to believe this is normal and acceptable. Would you want someone holding her captive, making her hurt?"

He shifted, rolling his upper body away from her while leaving his leg on her so she wouldn't move. The light from the nightstand lit the room.

She blinked, trying to hide her vulnerabilities. It was easier to talk in the dark. He couldn't see how invested she was in him.

He coughed loudly in the quiet room and whispered, "Show her you're not afraid of me."

"But I am." She stared into his eyes.

He frowned milliseconds before he kissed her. She moaned, frustrated with her inability to argue with him. Sometimes, she wanted to grab and shake him until he opened his mouth and talked to her.

But he physically couldn't talk with her without experiencing pain.

An indescribable pain he refused to share with anyone. Not her. Not Skye.

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