A Maverick to [Re]Marry Read online

  “Before you decided to come say hi to him, he asked if I had company. I said, just a friend. Wasn’t that what I was supposed to say?”

  “I’m not criticizing you, Derek. I’m only trying to understand why he seemed suspicious of me—and protective of you.”

  “Yeah, well, you could have avoided all that by staying in here until I got rid of him.”

  She swallowed. Hard. He had a good point and she needed to explain herself. “It seemed tacky somehow, you know? To hide in the kitchen while you sent away someone we both went to school with.”

  “Amy, it’s what you asked for. To be ‘secretly, exclusively together.’ Am I right?” And then he added, under his breath, “Whatever the hell all that even means.”

  She set down her fork with care. “You’re upset with me.”

  “Yeah. You’ve got me all turned around here. You say we’re keeping what we’re doing a secret. Then you come strolling down the hall to greet Collin at the door after I’ve tried to cover for your being here. I don’t know what you want.”

  “I guess I didn’t think it through, when I proposed how we would be together. I just meant we wouldn’t explain ourselves, okay?”

  His strong jaw was set. “Uh-uh. Still don’t get it.”

  “Well, I mean when we’re together, we’re together and people are going to see that. I don’t want us to lie.”

  “Yeah, you do. You want us to lie and say we’re just friends when we’re more than friends and we always will be, whether we move on to benefits or not.”

  We always will be.

  Her heart pounded harder and her skin felt too tight. He was right, and she knew it. And it made her ridiculously glad—that after more than a decade apart, she was still important to him.

  She tried again to explain herself. “I only meant that we could just skip the PDAs and the declarations of our relationship, or whatever. We can just tell everyone we’re friends and leave it at that. I didn’t mean we would hide or pretend I’m not at your house when I am.”

  He pushed his plate away. “Okay. No PDAs and we tell everyone we’re friends. And when your car’s parked outside my house all night, we just say you stayed over and let them think whatever they want to think.”

  “Yes. That’s it. Exactly.”

  “So, there is no secret, really. There are just zero explanations.”

  “Yeah. Is that wrong somehow, Derek?”

  “We might as well get real about this. If we’re not keeping our getting together a secret, they’re going to talk anyway. In case you didn’t notice, it’s Rust Creek Falls.”

  “I’m just saying that this is none of their business. We’re none of their business. It’s just between us and they can talk all they want, but we’ll just ignore them.” He didn’t reply so she pressed him. “I’ll ask again, do you think that not explaining ourselves to other people is wrong?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s wrong. And I do want to be with you, however we can make that work.” He stared across the table in her general direction, but he wasn’t really meeting her eyes.

  “Well, okay, then.” She waited for him to look directly at her so that she could try a coaxing smile.

  But he only lowered his gaze and turned his empty beer bottle in a slow circle, staring at it as though deep in thought. “You realize I said ‘When your car’s parked outside my house all night’ and you didn’t argue with me. You didn’t remind me that at this point, the two of us making love is still more of an if than a when.” He looked up at last. His eyes said it all. He wasn’t mad.

  And he wanted her to stay.

  * * *

  After the uncomfortable moments with Collin at the door and the difficult discussion over dinner, Derek was a little afraid that Amy might decide it was time for her go.

  She didn’t act like she wanted to go, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was reading her all wrong and any minute now she would start edging toward the door.

  As she helped him clear the table and load the dishwasher, he considered the various ways to get her to stay.

  He knew one surefire method: offer to play video games. She’d always loved them and apparently, she still played them with some dude named Jonas in Boulder.

  Yeah, she’d probably mop the floor with him. She used to beat him every time no matter what they played. Zelda, Call of Duty, Super Mario Kart, you name it.

  But that was then. Maybe that Jonas guy just wasn’t all that good a player. Maybe Amy had lost her touch playing with guys who didn’t challenge her—not that he, Derek, was all that much of a challenge to her.

  Still, he would like a rematch after all these years, a chance to beat her for once.

  He shut the dishwasher door and started it up.

  “Well,” she said, looking gorgeous and nervous and not sure what would happen next. “I guess maybe I’d better be—”

  “Grand Theft Auto V?” he asked.

  Worked like a charm. Her grin was slow and full of evil. “It’s your funeral.”

  They went into the great room, kicked off their boots and played.

  Just like old times, she whipped his butt.

  And then whipped it again.

  After two hours of ending up riddled with bullets, buried in a pile of rubble game after game, he dropped his controller onto the coffee table and put up both hands. “I surrender. You win.”

  She cupped a hand to her ear. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah, but I want you to say it again.”

  “Amy, you win.”

  “Yeah!” She dropped her controller next to his, let out a squeal of triumph and did a double fist pump.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me how you really feel?”

  She squealed again and stomped her stocking feet on the floor. “Who’s the man?”

  “You’re the man.”

  “Say it again! Say it again!” She bounced up and down on the couch, hair flying, eyes squinty, pumping both fists for all she was worth, her red skirt rising temptingly high on her smooth thighs.

  Cutest thing he’d ever seen. Strangest girl he’d ever known.

  He could not resist her. And why even try? They were together, right? In a nondeclared, open-ended, nobody’s-business sort of way. For the next two weeks, at least.

  Suddenly, it seemed like a bad idea to waste a single second of the time he might have with her. To hell with waiting. If she was willing, there would be benefits tonight.

  He caught her fist in mid-pump. She let out a yelp followed by a goofy giggle as he dragged her close, cupped the back of her head and claimed that delicious mouth of hers.

  Another sound escaped her then, breathless and wanting, as she pulled her hand free of his grip and wrapped it around his neck. Her hair was everywhere, glorious and wild around her flushed face, which he cradled between his two palms so he could kiss her some more.

  Long, wet kisses. Short, hard kisses. Kisses light as a fleeting touch turning to kisses so deep he drowned in them.

  How had he lived all these thirteen endless years without the taste of her mouth, the feel of her silky hair sifting through his fingers, the touch of her velvety skin beneath his hands?

  He guided her down on the couch cushions, kissing her, touching her, smoothing her hair only to spear his fingers in it and mess it up all over again.

  She gazed up at him, her eyes full of something he’d never thought he’d see in them again. “Oh, Derek,” she whispered, as though his name said it all.

  His pulse thudded in his ears and his blood seemed to burn in his veins. “Amy, I...”

  “Tell me,” she commanded.

  “I need to touch you. All of you.”

  “Yes,” she said, so eager. So sure. “Yes. Touch me. All of me. Please.”

  He wasted no time giving them both what they wanted. Slipping the skinny straps of her little red dress down over her shoulders, he eased the cups of her bra out of his way and buried his face b
etween her soft breasts. She moaned and held him closer.

  He needed so much.

  All of her.

  Naked.

  In his hungry arms.

  He lifted his head and looked at her, with her dress pulled down, her bra half off, her eyes dazed and dreamy. Her cheeks were a gorgeous shade of pink, her hair in a tangled halo across the nubby cushions of the old couch.

  It was the finest sight he’d ever seen.

  Something shifted within him. Something opened up wide.

  One way or another, they were making it work this time. One way or another they were taking this hesitant, friends-with-benefits second chance all the way to forever.

  He didn’t know how exactly. Not yet.

  But they were older now, and wiser, weren’t they? All grown-up and ready to make the big choices and take the important chances, at last.

  This time, somehow, they would get it right.

  Chapter Seven

  She pressed a hand to the side of his face and let out a soft little sigh. “Look at us. Is this really happening?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  She laughed, a giddy, happy sound. “I’m glad. I’m really glad.”

  He shifted on top of her. “I’m crushing you, aren’t I?”

  “Derek, I’m fine.”

  “This couch is too damn small. We’re not kids anymore, making love in my pickup out under a tree in the middle of a pasture somewhere.”

  “Oh, I remember. I used to get bruises from bumping the steering wheel.”

  “Not anymore. I need to take you to bed, turn on all the lights, look at every inch of you and kiss you all over.”

  “Yeah.” She tugged on his ear and grinned a goofy, blissed-out little grin. “You should do that, all of it. You should do that right now.”

  He slid off the cushions and bent to gather her up. She raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck. He lifted her high. Kicking a random boot out of his way, he made for the central hall and the shorter hall off it that led to the bedrooms.

  His door was wide open. He carried her through and set her down on the rug by the bed. Giggling a little, she readjusted her bra to cover those fine breasts, but left the front of her dress around her waist.

  “Stay right there,” he commanded. And he left her long enough to get everything right. He shut the curtains and turned on the lights—the standing lamp in the corner, the one on the dresser and the two on the nightstands. He grabbed a few condoms from the nearest nightstand drawer and set them by the clock. Last of all, he turned the covers back to reveal the white sheets.

  “I like your house so much,” she said. “And this is nice.” Her gaze roamed the room, taking it all in. “That’s beautiful.” She pointed at the tooled leather headboard. “Did you do that yourself?”

  “Yeah.” He straightened from smoothing the sheet and turned to her. Taking her shoulders, he brought her to face him.

  She gazed up at him with shining eyes. “Derek.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just Derek. I always liked saying your name. I still do. The combination of sounds is very satisfying. D-air-ek.” She chuckled, a soft little whisper of sound. “You think I’m strange. You always did.”

  “You are one of a kind. Special.”

  Her bare shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “I’m just plain strange. But thank you for giving it a more positive spin.”

  He dropped a kiss on that pretty shoulder. “Okay. You’re strange—in a special, one-of-a-kind way.”

  “Derek?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Kiss my other shoulder.”

  “Happy to.” He pressed his lips to the firm, silky curve, sticking out his tongue and licking the spot for good measure. She gasped just a little. He drank in that sound. “Now.” He ran his palm down her arm, caught her fingers and kissed the tips of them. “Take off all your clothes.”

  “Hmm.” She scrunched up her face and pretended to think it over. “I think you should take off my clothes for me.”

  “And I think that is an excellent idea.”

  She gazed up at him trustingly as he undid her red belt and tossed it on the bedside chair. Her dress and bra quickly followed.

  Now she had only the pair of red socks she’d worn under her boots and little red panties trimmed in pink lace.

  “Perfect,” he whispered, and bent his head to press his lips to the gorgeous, sweet-smelling curve where her neck met her shoulder. She tasted so good. He couldn’t get enough, so he bit her.

  “Ouch!” She laughed and slapped at his shoulder. He hauled her against him—and bit her again. “That is going to leave a mark,” she complained.

  “Tell them we’re just friends and it’s none of their business.”

  “You’re just asking for it, mister—and why is your shirt still on? That’s just not right.” She started in on the buttons, her fingers deft and quick. In no time, she was pushing it off his shoulders. He tossed it toward the pile of clothing on the chair as she tugged at the T-shirt he wore underneath.

  “Got it.” He reached back over his shoulders and pulled it up and off.

  “Oh, I do like where this is going,” she said with her angel’s smile, so completely at ease in her own mostly-naked skin. She’d always been like that with him, even their very first time. Eager and glowing. Adorably awkward. Open. Free. Not what he’d expected of Jack Wainwright’s straight-A student, virgin daughter.

  She spread her hands on his belly and slowly glided them upward. “I do believe this is an eight-pack you’ve got going on here.”

  “Hard work and clean living will do that to a man.” Would he ever get enough of the feel of her touch?

  Not a chance.

  Those caressing hands glided up and over his shoulders. They met at his nape and kept going, her fingers sliding into his hair, massaging his scalp.

  He had a feeling of stark unreality. That this was too perfect a moment to be true. “Am I dreaming?”

  “If you are,” she said low and achingly sweet, “so am I. We’re dreaming this together and all I want is for us never to wake up.”

  He clasped her bare waist. “You’re real.”

  “Oh, yes.” She let her head drop back and closed her eyes. The feathery ends of her hair brushed his hands.

  He slid his palms up over the cage of her ribs, bringing them around between them to cup both breasts, one in either hand. They were plump and so pretty, a little fuller than he remembered. She still had that tiny, heart-shaped mole over her left nipple.

  No way he could resist bending to kiss that.

  And then, well, he just went on kissing her, pressing his lips to the slope of her breast and then the beautiful swell on the underside. She let out a sweet, pleasured cry and pulled him closer, guiding him to where she wanted him.

  His mouth closed on her tight nipple as her head fell back. She gave a low moan when he drew on her, using his teeth, circling with his tongue.

  “Yes. Oh, please,” she whispered as he moved to the other breast.

  He still wore his jeans and his erection pressed almost painfully against his zipper, pulling even tighter as he went to his knees. Slowly, taking his time about it, he sank toward the rug, kissing his way between the delicate swells of her rib cage, down the velvety flesh of her belly. He paused to dip his tongue in her navel, bringing a sweet gasp from her.

  Her lower belly was silky-smooth, with just that little bit of tempting roundness he remembered so well. He kissed the spot, his mind wandering briefly to the tiny, unformed baby that might have been sleeping there, once, long ago.

  But that was the past.

  Foolish to dwell on it.

  Better to give himself up to right now, to the wonderful, womanly feel of her against his mouth, under his hands.

  He scraped his teeth along her hip bones, and then, bringing low moans from her, he took her panties in either hand and eased them down.

  “Derek, oh, yes. That!” she c
ried, as he pressed his lips to the neatly trimmed strip of dark hair that led to the female heart of her. And then she sighed, “Oh, exactly that...”

  And she didn’t stop there. She added more tender, hungry encouragements as her fingers tunneled through his hair. She watched as he played her, as he drank in her sweetness, worked her with his tongue, using his fingers, too, both to stroke her and to hold her in place for his eager kiss.

  When she broke wide open, he just went on kissing her, riding it out with her. He loved the sounds she made, the frantic, harsh rhythm of each ragged breath, the way her fingers dug into his scalp, yanking him closer as she pressed her core tighter to his never-ending kiss.

  “Derek,” she whispered. “Oh, Derek...” And she framed his face in her shaking hands and urged him to look up at her. For one glorious moment, he took in the sight of her, eyes dazed and shining, mouth softly parted, her hair on her shoulders, a few long curls veiling her pretty breasts.

  “You are so beautiful, Amy.”

  With a yearning little cry, she urged him up.

  He swept to his feet and she went on tiptoe to kiss him, laughing a little when she stumbled on her panties. They were tangled around one of her ankles. He dropped to the rug again, lifted her foot and removed both her sock and the twisted-up bit of satin and lace. She braced a hand on his shoulder as he slipped off her other sock.

  Then she pulled him up again and got after the task of unhooking his belt and unzipping his jeans.

  “Lie down.” Hands spread on his chest, she pressed gently but insistently, until he let himself fall back across the mattress. It took her only a moment to pull off his jeans and get rid of his socks.

  “Come here.” He caught her hand and pulled her down next to him.

  She landed at his side with a happy sigh, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling his throat as her naughty hand strayed downward. When she touched him, he almost unraveled right there, with her hand barely brushing him. Even with his boxer briefs in the way, her touch thrilled and burned.