Page 56 of August 20

"I'm scared...," she whispered, straining against his hand.

He held her wide open. Her chest constricted. She stared at his face. Panic set in. Never before had she felt so alone. She had no grandma to run to when her heart broke. She had no sister.

She only had Skye, who was too young to understand what was happening.

Maverick squeezed the meat of her thigh, gaining her attention again.

Could she trust him? She swallowed all her doubts.

She'd witnessed him with Skye. He'd given them both time to get used to him, never pushing either of them too fast.

Lately, she picked up on the way he watched her. Often, his hands would shake if they accidentally touched her during a meal or when she showed him Skye's schoolwork. She melted every time his gaze roamed over her body. She could taste the arousal coming off him whenever they were together.

Her heart raced, and she squirmed. She'd thought about having sex with him every second since he forced her to sleep in the same bed as him.

He rubbed the inside of her thigh, where he squeezed. She shuddered, sucking in a breath. He was the opposite of her in every way. If they'd met on the street, she would've crossed the road to escape him.

Bikers were criminals. He was an ex-convict.

But he'd saved Skye's life and attempted to help Janelle. It wasn't his fault her sister died in the explosion. Janelle had brought that on herself.

Maverick never forced her to accept his innocence. She'd learned the truth by getting to know him better.

He'd offered her friendship today by taking her to the pool. She'd never had that before, not when raising Skye alone.

More confident, she lifted her hips against his hand.

He gently moved her leg. She exhaled loudly, wanting to permit him to keep going, and scared she'd disappoint him.

She wasn't exactly in control of her own body. She wanted him and yet fought to wrap her head around having sex with him.

"You can stop whenever." Maverick's rough voice cut through her fears.

She nodded. "Okay."

He moved between her legs, and instead of coming up and over her body, he lowered his mouth to her pussy. She closed her legs, trapping his head between her thighs, but she wasn't fast enough. His tongue came out and swiped the wet folds.

The intimacy startled her. She bucked against him, trying to dislodge his mouth. His tongue.

But her arousal betrayed her, and she moaned, melting into a puddle on the bed, letting him do whatever he wanted to her.

She fisted the blanket at her hips. The urge to press herself to his mouth overwhelmed her, and she lifted her hips. She wanted what he was doing.

He licked a path from her wetness to her clit. Her toes curled, and she pressed her heels into the mattress. She wanted him to keep going, to take the turmoil she lived with daily and get rid of it.

She'd lost her mind.

Her body screamed in pleasure.

Her lungs fought for air.

Her wet pussy begged.

She moaned and clawed wildly, grabbing for Maverick. She needed him to help her. She wanted him to make her come.

He raised his head. She groaned in frustration.

He pulled his thumb out of her and pressed her clit, skimming the tight bundle of nerves.

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