Page 100 of Face Off
“Piper is going to be very confused.”
“It’ll be fixed by tonight.” I set her on the couch and pull a fuzzy blanket up to her chin. “Don’t move an inch, Red. If I see you crawling like a goddamn worm, I’m going to haul you over my shoulder and tape you to a chair.”
“I bet I’d move faster than you,” she mumbles, and she rests her head against the cushions. “Even if I was wiggling.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Maverick?” she says. Our eyes meet, and my chest puffs out at the sound of my name. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking some of the load from me.”
“You’re welcome, Emmy girl. Get comfortable. I’ll be back soon.”
Emerson nods and closes her eyes. Her breathing turns shallow, and she’s asleep within seconds.
Before I can think twice about what the hell I’m doing, I drop a kiss to her forehead and get to work.
TWENTY-SEVEN
EMMY
It’sdark outside when I open my eyes, and my chest presses against something firm.
I take a second to get my bearings, and I realize the nausea from earlier has subsided. I’m relaxed, and a bone-aching bliss settles over my body in a way I don’t ever remember experiencing.
I stretch my arms and turn my head to the side, and I find Maverick next to me.
There’s a pillow crease on his forehead, and his hair is rumpled beyond belief. One of his hands sits on my hip, long fingers splayed out over the curve of my thigh and the bottom of my tattoo. He’s shirtless, fast asleep and breathing heavily, and in all the moments I’ve known him, this is my favorite one.
I stare at him, and the last few hours come rushing back to me.
The hair washing and the door he knocked down.
Waiting for him to put clean sheets on my bed and carrying me to my room.
The soup he spoon-fed me and the water he made me drink.
I rub a hand over my chest, an ache nudging its way behind my ribs as I watch his eyelashes flutter and listen to his soft exhales.
He dropped everything for me.
He helped put me back together and stayed to make sure I was okay all because hewantedto.
No one’s ever been so nice to me before, especially when I’ve felt small and uncomfortable and nothing like myself, and that’s disorienting.
There’s this magnetic need to touch him, and I don’t fight it. I cup his cheek and run my thumb along his jaw. I study the planes of his face. The hook of his nose and the way it looks like he’s smirking, even when he’s unconscious.
Beautiful man.
Stubble pricks my palm, and I smile when he turns his head and nuzzles into my touch.
“Are you awake?” he rasps, a tired slur from the back of his throat. The fingers on my hip stroke across my skin, and it almost feels like he’s trying to write out a word. “Or am I dreaming?”
“Definitely dreaming,” I murmur, scooting closer to him. “What time is it?”
“Don’t know.” He rubs his eyes and reaches behind him to turn on the lamp with his free hand. He taps his phone and I see a photo of him and June wearing face paint and sticking out their tongues. “Eight.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were burrowed under the covers like a bear in hibernation. It was cute.” Maverick pinches my cheek. “I had to squeeze in here and see if you were that tired, or if the bed is that comfortable.”
