Page 50 of Maverick
That’s all.
I hear footsteps on the stairs, and I look up to see him coming down into the living room. He’s wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt. His feet are bare. My heart jumps up into my throat. He’s just so fine. Honestly. That man is a health hazard. It’s just unfair.
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I return. I feel small, like a guest shunted off to the couch, and maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should feel a little bit more confident, given the enthusiasm with which he ate me out last night. But I don’t.
So there’s that.
“Did you sleep all right?”
“Yeah,” I say.
That is true. I slept great. I wasn’t aware of any embarrassment or discomfort until this morning.
“You seemed… You seem pretty comfortable down here. So I figured I’d leave you to it.”
He doesn’t want to share a bed with me. That hits me like a freight train. I try not to let it hurt me. It shouldn’t hurt me.
“Yeah. Though… I would think that someone of your age would be a little bit more worried about my back hurting.”
He chuckles. “I would think that someone your age would be absolutely fine after a night of sleeping on the couch.”
I stretch. Ostentatiously.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just totally fine.”
“How nice for you. So, are you ready to get out and do some dressage riding today?”
“Yeah,” I say.
Frankly, I can’t believe the last twenty-four hours happened. That only yesterday morning we drove from the rodeo, then last night descended into some kind of debaucherous madness, and I haven’t even had the chance to ride that horse yet. It’s crazy, honestly.
The wildest day on record, I’m pretty sure. I was a virgin, now I’m not. My lover is a complicated widower. Wow. Good for me. Honestly. Good for me.
I swing my feet over the edge of the couch and stand up. “I could really use some coffee.”
“I’ll get you some.” He looks at me for a long moment. “Maybe you should get dressed.”
I follow his line of sight. Oh right. The shirt is see-through.
“I didn’t think you noticed you could see my nipples through the shirt.”
He barks a laugh. “Yeah. I noticed. I noticed the first time I saw you in it.”
I flush with pleasure. “You did?”
“Yes, Stella. I did. We’ve been through this. Sex is complicated for me. Though, feeling less complicated.”
I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not. That I’ve managed to untangle something that was all tangled up before. Or if it just means that it’s the same sort of dramatic nonsense that was always there. Now he’s just coming.
“All right, go get dressed. I’ll make you some coffee.”
I go upstairs, and I fish my breeches out of the bottom of my suitcase. I haven’t worn them for a minute, but I did pack them, just in case. I also packed my boots that go with them, my shirt, though not my jacket with tails. Once, when I was a child, I got points docked for having buttons that were just slightly too close together. I remember my mother was furious, and the judge said that: we can’t coddle the children. Just because they’re young doesn’t mean we can be easier on them.
Oh dressage. It’s such an elitist sport. Filled with people who are high on their own self-importance.
I do love it.
