Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

Mav circled her hips and nuzzled his nose against her hair, inhaling. Stephanie froze. Toni had been kind enough to bring her some floral-scented hair products she’d made use of before leaving the hospital. Was that why he breathed her in?

He continued to stroke his nose through her hair, down her cheek, and into the sensitive curve of her neck, tickling slightly. Stephanie held her breath and didn’t so much as twitch, both petrified of her body’s reaction to him and just as afraid he’d stop.

Warmth flooded her stomach and bloomed out until her entire body felt heated and flushed. Her nipples pebbled and sent a message straight to her brain, begging to be touched, pinched, sucked. Between her legs, hot wetness made her slick and readied her for something that should never happen. Something she shouldn’t even want but, oh, how she wanted it.

Needed it.

Maverick’s hand slid from her lower back up to her hair. He fisted it in a tight grip then tugged, tipping her head back until she had no choice but to gaze right into his eyes. Mouth mere inches from hers, he said, “The world doesn’t work that way, baby. Right and wrong? That’s an illusion. A fairytale. Humans weren’t created to pick one or the other. Every one of us falls somewhere in between. You are fooling yourself if you think you can fit everyone into a nice neat A or B category. What we did may have been wrong in the eyes of the law, but we both know King would never have paid for those crimes. It’s ugly, it’s messy, and it’s fucked up, but it’s not wrong. Don’t you dare lose a moment’s sleep feeling like you’ve done something wicked here.”

And damned if she didn’t buy right into his impassioned speech. Maybe it was all the sex-hungry hormones coursing through her system, or perhaps it was just the strength of his convictions, but she found some of the weight lifting off her shoulders.

Then, before she could make a mental list of the many reasons she should inch away, Maverick closed the gap until nothing but a sheet of paper could have passed between their lips. His tongue snuck out, the metal ball glinting in the light of the room, and he traced her bottom lip.

Like he’d found the access to a secret door, her mouth opened, and his lips settled against hers. It was gentle, soft, and so maddening she wanted to cry. He kept the pressure light, rubbing his lips against hers more than actually kissing her. It wasn’t what she’d expected, wasn’t what she’d fantasized about. In her mind, he’d go at it in a frenzied, ravenous claiming. Or maybe that was just her projecting her desires onto him.

But now, there she was, head immobilized by his near punishing hold on her hair, tipped back, helpless to do anything but receive the inadequate touch. As he continued to torture her with a passion just out of reach, she groaned.

Screw this. She grabbed the back of his head and pushed, mashing their mouths together the way she’d been craving. For all of thirty seconds, Maverick’s tongue stroked into her mouth and his lips sealed over hers making the world spin and her pussy clench with unfulfilled need. Every few seconds, the titanium ball of his tongue ring would roll over her own tongue, giving her just a taste of what would be in store for her clit should he ever venture south.

Desperate for more, Stephanie moaned and held him tighter until they both flinched and a metaphorical bucket of ice water crashed over her.

Holy shit, she’d lost her mind.

Here he was, broken ribs, busted face, split and swollen lip, and she was assaulting him like some kind of animal in heat. Not to mention her own healing lip that now stung anew.

She released him at once, and her hair slid through his lax fingers as he stepped back. “Fuck,” he bit out, the same frustration she was feeling written all over his face. After pressing his thumb to his lip and it came back blood free, he stared at her with stormy, lust-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she ran a hand through her hair. It had to be sticking out every which way. And she hadn’t worn makeup since before she was taken. She’d need a pound of it to cover the bruises on her face anyway. God, she was a hot mess. Thankfully, there wasn’t a mirror in the room. She didn’t think she could face it at the moment, knowing what a disaster she looked like in front of the sexiest man she’d ever met. “I seem to have lost all semblance of self-control tonight.”

“Don’t be. You have any idea what the fuck it does to me that you want me like I want you? Shit, wildcat, I want more of that mouth. Guess fucking is out of the question until we’re back in fighting form, huh?”