Page 59 of August 20

"No." She looked over her shoulder, though she couldn't see him in the dark. "But, I liked having sex with you. I don't understand why you married me or why you're acting like you're in love with me when deep down you hate me for being Janelle's sister and taking care of your daughter."

His arm tightened around her. How could he explain the fierce way he wanted to keep her without scaring her away?

He never had a good example of what love was, except for his love for his daughter. With Skye, he would do anything to protect her. Brooke should understand that because he'd held her hostage in his fight to get his daughter back.

Maybe he was falling in love with Brooke. Maybe he knew no other way to show her than to make sure she never leaves him.

"Maverick?"

"Mm?"

"I need my freedom," whispered Brooke.

"You'll leave me." A tickle grew in his throat, and he coughed.

After several minutes, Brooke whispered, "I don't think I would."

He laid his head back on the pillow. Her statement kept him up for hours into the night.

He wasn't a trustful person. But he wanted to believe her.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Maverick rolled the leather tool bag and put it under the seat of his Harley Davidson. Brooke stood ten feet away in the driveway, her arms crossed and running out of patience.

Thirty minutes ago, they'd dropped Skye off at the school. She'd asked Maverick if they could stop at the store on the way home because she needed milk for her coffee.

Instead of stopping, he drove home and started working on his motorcycle.

Granted, milk for her coffee wasn't high on the list of important needs, but every morning, one of them made a pot of coffee. This morning, Maverick was able to have a cup because all he needed was a spoonful of sugar, and he was good to go. She needed sugar and milk.

Her addiction had gotten the best of her because she wanted to snap Maverick's handsome head off his neck.

"Please." She paused. "I know you can hear me."

She hated having a moment of weakness, but over the last four days, Maverick had taken her permission to have sex to a new level. The man was insatiable.

And because Skye had been home because of the weekend, all their time together was at night after they'd put her to bed. Which meant she was tired.

Her stomach fluttered. And wonderfully sore in ways she never even imagined.

But she needed her caffeine, and because she couldn't jump in her car and go to the store, the hostage situation was wearing on her. Nothing would ever change if Maverick refused to give her the freedom to live on her terms.

He glanced at her before straddling and starting the motorcycle. The noise took her back a step. She scoffed. He infuriated her.

The engine roared louder. She raised her shoulders, reacting to the loud noise. The rumble shook her soul.

Maverick leaned to the opposite side and scooped two helmets off the ground. Then, he straightened. He put one on the gas tank and held one out for her, dipping his chin for her to take it.

She stepped forward. He motioned for her to put it on her head. She followed his direction.

He pinched the front of her shirt and pulled her closer. Then, he worked the strap into the D-ring under her chin, pulled it over, and snapped it into place.

Maverick leaned closer. "Get on."

"What?" The shock of his request made her surprise loud enough to hear over the engine.

Since coming to Seaglass Cove, she'd seen him on the motorcycle several times when she'd spied him through the bedroom window, leaving during the night. They used her car because they usually had Skye with them.

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