Page 123 of A Little Complicated

“Guess it’s good you found Archer, then, isn’t it?”

“Did you hit your head or something, Maverick? Because I’m not sure if you remember or not, but for the past little while, I’ve been in your bed, not his.”

“No, I’ve been inyourbed andyourcloset.”

“So thatiswhat this is about,” I assume. “How you had to hide in my closet since we agreed not to tell anyone about us?”

“No, it’s…” He grinds his molars, his muscles fucking vibrating beside me. “He knows you. He knows what you taste like. What you feel like. Do you have any idea what it does to me?”

My eyes thin. “You can’t keep throwing my relationship with your brother in my face.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” I push. “And it isn’t fair because you’re the one who broke my heart, Mav. Not the other way around.”

His head falls, and for the first time since I climbed onto this roof, I can see a crack in his armor. A glimpse of the guy I fell in love with not so long ago, only to have my heart broken by the same man.

“Then, why do I feel so damn broken?” he asks.

The words hang in the air, practically choking me. Because they’re filled with desperation. With want. With resignation.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I whisper.

“I can’t.”

“Then tell me why you were jealous at the game. It’s a stupid jersey, Mav.”

“You were mine first,” he admits, as if I’ve forgotten.

“I’m still yours,” I remind him.

Defeat shines in his eyes, and he meets my gaze. “For how long?”

“Don’t you get it?” A pathetic laugh slips past my lips. “For as long as you’ll have me, Maverick.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“And how does it work?” I push. “Because for someone who likes his control, you’re sure as shit giving it up easily. You want me? You have me. I’m right—”

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me with a fervor and impatience I haven’t experienced in months. It’s desperate and deliberate and filled with a raw determination I feel all the way to my toes. This kiss tastes just like him. Just like Maverick, the first boy I ever loved despite myself.

I open for him, letting him take what he needs while understanding whatever this is—whatever he’s going through—is only the tip of the iceberg, and it seems I’m not the only one who’s ruined. He feels the ache from our lost time as much as I do, and the reminder of our lost time was more than he could bear earlier today. It’s why he snapped. Why he hit Archer. Why he’s pushing me away yet holding on to me for dear life at the same time.

It ruins me.

In a way, I think I’ve been ruined for a while now. My thoughts. My relationships. Everything.

Carefully, I shift on the roof, lifting my leg and straddling Maverick’s waist while keeping our mouths fused together. I’m scared Maverick will push me away again. Terrified he’ll end this.

Not again.

Please, not again.

His hands slip under my shirt. He drags them up my spine and follows the same path to my hips. I’ve missed his hands. The rough callouses. How delicate they make me feel. He squeezes my waist, and I grind against him, hating my clothes now more than ever. I want him. All of him. His skin. His muscles. His erection. His soul. I want it all. Inside of me. Around me. I want it to seep into my skin, tattooing me. Branding me. Marking me as Maverick’s andonlyMaverick’s.AlwaysMaverick’s.

Sensing my desperation, he lifts his hips, letting me rock against the bulge in his jeans as his hands find my breasts beneath my shirt. He pinches my nipples through the thin cotton of my bra, and I moan against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps against my lips. “Bet you could come just like this, couldn’t you?”

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