Page 74 of A Little Complicated

“I should go,” he rasps.

“Will you kiss me, Archer?” I whisper.

The name feels wrong on so many levels. But I’m curious. Curious what he’ll do. What he’ll say. How far he’ll take this, and if he really believes I can't tell the difference between him and his brother. If he thinks they really are so interchangeable.

The thought leaves a rancid taste in my mouth, but I force it back.

“Ophelia,” he murmurs. His hands tighten around my waist, and his eyes look nothing less than tortured.

Using his massive frame for balance, I rise onto my tiptoes, keeping my movements slow and controlled—or at least as slow and controlled as I can, considering the alcohol swirling through my veins. I brush my lips against the underside of his chin. The slight scruff of his jaw tickles my lips, and I smile against him. I’ve missed this. Missed him.

This is averydangerous game. But my thoughts are fuzzy, and so is my willpower. Especially when he’s looking at me like this. Like he wants me.Reallywants me. The same way I’ve always wanted him. The same way I thought he wanted me until something spooked him. Until something ripped him away from me. Archer never looks at me like this. Like he’d kill to have a taste. The passion? The torture? The agony of being away from me? It’s never been there with Archer. And I’m not sure if he even knows it, but it’s true. Maverick’s the opposite, and he’s proving it right now with a single look making me press my thighs together.

They say alcohol inhibits your ability to consider consequences. I don’t know whotheyare, but they’re not wrong. Because I want to see how this plays out. I need to see if he’ll back down or continue pretending to be his brother. I have to know if he thinks so little of me to really believe I can’t tell the difference between them.

“You taste different,” I note, dragging my lips against his jaw and moving higher to nibble on the edge of his lip.

“You haven’t tasted me yet,” he rasps. His muscles are like stone beneath my fingertips. “Not recently.”

Not a lie. But it’s not a confession, either.

Are we still playing, Mav?

My fingers find the edge of his shirt as I whisper, “And why is that?”

I nibble the edge of his jaw one more time, pull away slightly, and peek up at him again, daring him to lie to me. To give in. To keep pretending.

Are. We. Still. Playing?

His eyes darken another shade. The lack of light in the entryway makes them almost black and reminds me of a wild animal, one I’m currently toying with. His fingers tighten on my hips, causing little indents in my flesh. A growled “Fuck it” echoes past his lips, and his palms are on my cheeks in an instant, his mouth devouring me whole. He’s so much more forceful. More commanding than his brother. The way he dominates me with his kiss, shoving his tongue between my lips as he angles my head in the exact position he wants it. Heat pools between my legs, and I whimper as his teeth dig into my bottom lip.

I never thought I’d have this again. Never thought he’d give it to me. His kiss. His touch. His time. And it doesn’t matter how desperate it makes me. To steal it. To possess it under these circumstances. I want this passion. I want it all.

Arching my back, I press myself against him and soak up the feel of his hard muscles against my curves, all too aware of how quickly it could be stolen from me. He picks me up and carries me to the nearest wall. My back hits the hard surface with a thump, and I gasp, tilting my head to one side as he trails kisses along my neck.

It’s so good.

I’ve missed it.

This.

Him.

“Fuck, Mav—”

He freezes, turning into steel as soon as the words slip past my lips.

Mav.

Shit.

Slowly, I slide down his frozen frame while the alcohol in my veins evaporates instantly. The same darkness fills his eyes as he glares down at me while regret and shame flood every inch of my body, leaving me naked and exposed and guilty and…confused. So fucking confused it’s not even funny. Once my feet are on the ground, a disgusted Maverick shakes his head, turns around, and leaves.

What. The. Fuck?

25

MAVERICK

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