Stephanie did nothing to hide her enjoyment of Maverick’s attention on her body. She held her man close with one hand on his ass and one in the center of his back. Every few seconds, her fingers flexed, tensing.
With pleasure?
As Mak continued to stare at them, Stephanie’s lips moved, the words “I love you,” clearly identifiable. Mav lifted his head, making eye contact with his woman. They stayed that way, heated gazes locked until Stephanie bit her lower lip and trembled.
Holy crap, had the woman just orgasmed?
Maverick kissed her, then they whispered back and forth, faces close and hands roaming lovingly over each other’s bodies. The moment was so intimate, so much more than physical, she felt the need to look away and give them privacy, but she couldn’t. Never before had she seen two people stare at each other like that outside of actors in a movie. Their gazes held pure, unconditional love and desire.
What would it be like to have a man look at her in such a way? Like she was the sole reason he woke in the morning?
Powerful. That’s what it’d be.
Mak hadn’t come close to experiencing anything like that. Hell, she’d barely felt true physical attraction. There’d been this boy she’d had a pull towards when she was an early teen, but knowing what her future held, she’d squashed the feelings and refused to allow them to occur again.
She’d certainly never felt so much as a flicker of attraction, want, or love for her husband. The thought of him made her shudder as it had from the moment she’d found out she would be forced to marry him and bear his children.
And now? Well, now she could identify a handsome, good-looking man, but nothing ever registered beyond that. She didn’t feel what she’d read about in the romance novels she’d hidden between her mattress and box spring. None of the community's marriages were born of love or attraction, strictly the obligation to multiply. She’d begun to believe such a deep, primal desire for another person was nothing more than a myth, and those involved were consummate actors.
Yet, there was a real-life example of lust and love, staring her in the face.
Maybe it was her. Maybe she’d broken herself by suppressing her natural feelings and urges for so many years. Maybe the community had broken her by forcing her to endure the advances of a man three times her age.
What did it matter? Whatever the reason for her lacking libido, she didn’t have the luxury of pursuing a man. Hell, the absence of those feelings was a gift. At least she didn’t know what she was missing. Maybe Kristy had a point. She was lucky. The idea of cycling through man after man in search of some elusive perfect love seemed miserable.
Who the hell needed that in their lives?
Monty sauntered his way back over to her, a knowing smirk on his face. Once again, he circled her shoulders with his arm. The man was touchy as hell.
But she felt nothing. Not even a spark of heat for the sweet, funny, handsome man. Yeah, something had been destroyed in her all right.
“Good stuff, huh?” he asked as he wagged his eyebrows.
She shifted her gaze from Monty’s grin back to Steph and Mav, only to find they’d migrated somewhere else. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
Now, right where the couple had been, danced the guest of honor.
Thunder.
Three women surrounded him, all touching him and gyrating their bodies against his with moves that could have been choreographed. Thunder had his hands in the air, eyes closed as he swayed his body to the music. Mak didn’t have a great view of him since his dance partners blocked most of his body, but he seemed to be a great dancer.
Monty laughed. “Now that one’ll give you an education. Never met a man who could work the ladies quite like Thunder.”
As though he sensed he’d become the topic of conversation, Thunder’s eyes popped open, and his gaze locked with hers.
Her stomach flipped, different than before, and a strange flutter spread through her chest. She’d meant to ask Kristy about the kiss she’d witnessed at the coffee shop. About whether she was dating Thunder or not. From the handsy scene in front of her, she’d guess not.
“Is one of them his ol’ lady?” she asked Monty, still maintaining eye contact with a dancing Thunder.
The prospect let out a booming laugh. “Thunder? Dating? Shit, babe, you’re funny. Thunder doesn’t date. He’s a stripper and having too much fun banging any and every woman he can get his hands on. Which is pretty much all of them.”
A stripper. That explained how he knew Kristy, but not why she’d kissed him as she had.
Thunder winked, and the gesture hit her straight between the legs with an unfamiliar tingling sensation.