Page 38 of A Little Complicated

I was right. He wants me to beg. To kiss his stupidly muscular ass and inflate his ego until it almost bursts and the clock’s ticking. Archer will be back any minute. If I back out now, he’ll wonder why I have a problem receiving a few tips and tricks from his other half. I could always ask Jaxon for help. Or Griff or Everett. I could ask any of them. But whether or not I want to admit it, Maverick knows me better than any of them. Onandoff the ice. Which makes this entire situation that much less palatable.

“You think you could learn a thing or two from me, Opie?” Mav prods.

“You know, now that I think about it, I’ve already learned plenty from you,” I decide. “I think I’ll pass on learning how to defend against your magic voodoo stick handling.”

His mouth quirks, and he grabs his junk through his sweats. Not going to lie. It’s quite the handful, and my eyes fall to his package without me even realizing it.

“You don’t want to learn how to defend yourself against my magic voodoo stick, Opie?” he jokes.

My eyes snap from his crotch to his knowing smirk. “Ew.”

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, “Girls love my magic voodoo stick.”

“I’m sure they do.” I scan the empty hallway. “Now, please get your hand off your junk before your brother gets back out here.”

“And why would we care about whether or not my brother sees you staring at my junk, Ophelia?” he questions thoughtfully, but the bastard’s nice enough to give in despite his sarcasm. He lets himself go and reaches for the last slice of my pizza, ripping his teeth into it. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down his throat when he swallows, leaving my mouth dry while his eyes pin me in place. The guy’s so infuriating it’s nauseating on a good day. But after the shitty one I’ve endured thanks to him, I’m two seconds from slapping the cocky smirk off his stupidly handsome face with my own two hands.

“Thanks for confirming my decision,” I murmur. “Tell Archer I went home.” I stand up and head to the door, but Maverick grabs my bicep, stopping my retreat. Cotton fills my mouth from the heat of his palm. And I hate how I know them. His hands. What they feel like on my body. In my hair. Against my cheeks.

“You really want my help, Opie?” Mav asks.

I tear my attention from his hand wrapped around my arm and slide it up to his blue eyes. They’re darker than Archer’s. Harder too. Especially when he’s frustrated. Like right now. Tiny flecks of navy surround his pupils as he waits for my response. For my groveling.

Shoving the memories assaulting me aside, I murmur, “If I were talking to the old Mav, I’d say yes. You know how much hockey means to me, and I could really use your help. But asshole Maverick? I think I’ll pass.”

He stays quiet, his grip as firm as ever, while I squirm beneath his scrutiny, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.

His attention flicks to my lips before meeting my hesitant gaze again. “Fine.” He lets me go and steps back, giving me room to breathe. “Meet me out front tomorrow morning at seven. I’ll drive you to the rink.”

Drive. Rink.

Right.

I snap out of the stupid haze from our close proximity and shake my head. “On your death trap motorcycle? I think not.”

His mouth lifts on one side. “I thought you liked my motorcycle.”

“You’ve been on his motorcycle?” Archer questions from the hallway.

Shit, I almost forgot he was coming back.

My lips smash together as my attention shifts from Maverick to his brother. “It’s a long story.”

“Not that long,” Maverick chimes in. “She’s got quite the grip, brother.”

A flicker of jealousy flashes in Archer’s eyes, but he tilts his head and slides in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him. “You being a dick again, Mav?”

“Would you expect anything less?” Maverick volleys back. He turns, giving me a half-bow. “I’ll meet you at the rink at eight.”

“I thought you said seven?” I counter.

“Pretty sure my brother wouldn’t want his girlfriend walking in the dark.” Mav leans closer and shoves the last bite of crust into his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

He saunters back to his bedroom and closes the door.

11

MAVERICK

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