Page 66 of Maverick
It’s so raw. Visceral.
Then he moves away from me on a grunt, and disappears into the bathroom. I stand up, and look around the gym. I take in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I think I’m going to call that good on the workout,” he says.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“See you tomorrow morning.”
He doesn’t invite me to shower with him, and he doesn’t even wait for me to get dressed. And that’s fine. It’s actually in line with how we do this. We don’t cuddle after. We don’t sleep together. I put myself out there…
But then, why would he feel like this was me putting myself out there? This is really what we do every day. Maybe not in here, but we have sex, and then we go our separate ways for the rest of the evening. I made him dinner, I’m feeling some things, but it’s not up to him to have a different feeling just because I do.
No. Of course it’s not.
This is me being… Stella. A little bit too much. Too flighty. Following my big emotions wherever they take me. This is what got me into that poker game in the first place. It’s what got me enmeshed with him.
I’m the one who needs to settle down.
What we have is good. I don’t need to overthink it.
Too bad overthinking is a specialty of mine. Unless I’m underthinking.
There’s no happy medium.
I feel like maybe that’s what he and I both struggle with.
And I’m really not the one to help him with it.
Chapter Thirteen
Maverick
When I get a call that the pipe arrives, I don’t tell her.
Isn’t that psychotic behavior? After the night in the gym, probably. I was unhinged with her. Absolutely unhinged. She makes me feel things that I can’t explain and they don’t fit into the neat boxes I’ve made for myself.
The civilized one I tried to make for myself when I met Sadie.
The isolated villain role I carved out for myself after her death.
With Stella, I’m myself. It’s uncomfortable. I’m not sure I like it. The wildness of it. The up and down. Sweet, hot, and rough, all at once.
A little bit too intense.
I let a week go by with the pipe, unwilling to not have her with me all the time. Then another week.
She doesn’taskabout the pipe either, to be fair to me.
She cooks for me sometimes. And in the morning, when I wake up, she’s there. Sometimes she makes coffee, sometimes I do. It’s nice to have someone in the house with me again. It’snice to not be alone. It’s a strange thought. One I haven’t really fully let myself have until right then.
I don’t want her to go back to the cottage, though. I want her to stay here with me. Because having her here is…
Convenient. Well. That’s an asinine way to look at it.
She’s done so much for me, and I need to do something for her. Everything with Frank is going great, and I love watching her ride him. She’s so talented. That’s when I arrive at the idea to make her a picnic. She’s really into that. I’ve noticed. She likes a cheese board. She’s made several since moving in with me.
And the idea of making one for her is pleasing. The idea of making her smile is, too.
When she surprised me the other night with that dinner, I was stunned. Walking into that scene of domesticity was almost too much, and yet, it was the exact amount of too much that I want with her. That’s the problem. I’m greedy when it comes to Stella.
