The motion on the TV flickered as the movie played on. The quick cuts caused anxiety to bubble up into my stomach as the last scenes of the movie began. Horror was not a genre I particularly liked. The tension, the jump scares, the gore––all of it was hard for me to digest. Not to mention the nightmares I would end up having.

Most of the night, before Maverick showed up, was spent peeking through parted fingers and covering half of my face with the fuzzy blanket I had dragged down from my room. In the back of my mind, I hoped I had seen enough because there was no way I was putting myself through this again.

I was curled up on the couch, my knees tucked under me and a blanket draped across my legs. Oliver was sprawled out lazily at the other end, oblivious to the tension building inside me. The knife-welding murder on screen was partly to blame. But for the most part, it was the overgrown, tattooed defenseman that was causing my heart to race.

Maverick's smooth bicep rippled under my palm as he fixed the blanket across his lap. With our bodies so close, I could feel the subtle shifts in his posture, the way his body angled just slightly toward mine. His presence was magnetic, and no matter how much I tried to concentrate on the screen, my thoughts kept drifting back to him. To the way his hand brushed against mine earlier. To the memory of his lips on my skin the other night.

The other women on campus knew what they were talking about.

Every inch of Maverick was magic. His hands, his lips, his tongue. In one night he was able to bring me to heights that Miles couldn't dream of reaching. The man was talented and his experience in the bedroom spoke for itself. The confidence Maverick carried around in his shoulders was justified. But there was also this attentive side I wasn't expecting. The way he was rough and gentle at the same time had my head spinning.

He was like a chocolate covered pretzel. The perfect combination of sweet and savory.

I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. The memories from the other night blocked out the sounds of shrieking coming from the otherside of the room. I wanted that feeling again. And I knew Maverick could give me that.

Before I could second-guess myself, my hand inched down his arm, slipping under the hem of his T-shirt. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips, the hard lines of his stomach flexing at my touch. My fingers trailed upward, exploring the ridges of his abs as my heart pounded in my chest.

Maverick turned his head toward me, his brows raised in a mix of amusement and curiosity. "If this is turning you on," he said, his voice low and teasing, "we might have to have a conversation."

An amused puff of air left my nose as I shook my head. Something similar to insecurity took hold of me and I continued to stare down at where my fingers disappeared beneath the soft cotton material, avoiding his eyes.

"It's not the movie," I admitted, pulling my hand back but not entirely removing it. "Having you sitting here...it had me thinking."

"Thinking, huh?" His tone was guttural, his attention fully on me now.

Heat rose to the back of my neck as I tried to formulate what I wanted to say. "The other night...I enjoyed myself."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted it. Maverick's cocky smirk played at the corners of his mouth. Thankfully, he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"There are other things," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear me over the movie. "Other things that I'd like to experiment with. And I feel comfortable enough with you to...you know, be the one to show me."

The smirk that I hated so much faded and all of the sudden I was wishing for it to come back. Maverick's infuriating grin was replaced by a more serious expression as he leaned back, studying me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, glaring at him.

His brow furrowed. "I was under the impression that the other night was a one-time thing."

The strain in the room was suffocating. Maverick wasn't the chirpy bundle of sunshine that Booker was, but seeing him so serious was unnerving. The need to lift the mood had me blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Are you afraid you can't outdo yourself?"

That seemed to do the trick. His lips ticked up the slightest bit.

"That's never a concern of mine."

"Then what's the problem?" I asked, finally removing my fingers from the warmth of his body.

Maverick studied me for a pensive moment. "I don't know if I want to continue a physical relationship with you."

I blinked up at him, lips parting slightly. "And why not?"

He rubbed at the back of his head with a calloused hand. I could see the gears in his head turning, trying to find a way to let me down easily. But the sting was already there. Why couldn't I be one of the girls he slept with regularly?

As soon as the question popped into my head I wanted to slap myself. I needed to have a little more self-respect. I refused to beg for a man's affections––regardless of how well he fucked. This was a purely physical transaction and, like Maverick, I didn't want to make the mistake of allowing feelings to get involved.

All I wanted was for my sex-guru-housemate to teach me how to fuck. Was that so hard?

When his mouth opened to respond, I held up my hand. "Other than you thinking that I'm going to catch feelings for you and because you don't want Easton to beat you up."

"To make things clear, Easton wouldn't be able to get a shot in," he stated, chest rising with bravado. "I just don't want the vibes between my teammates to shift. Those guys are like my brothers and I don't want any of them to get pissed at me if something goes south between us."

I twisted my body to face him, my foot bumping into a snoozing Oliver who didn't even stir. "But that's what I'm trying to tell you. You don't have to worry about any of that. I'm not expecting any sort of emotional investment from you. It's strictly sex."

"Strictly sex?"

"Strictly sex," I confirmed.

"Celeste," he mumbled. It was if he were trying to reason with someone who didn't know any better. And maybe I didn't. "Are you sure about this? You've gotta know what you're asking for."

I swallowed. "I'm sure. I know what I want, Maverick."

My body did too. The area between my legs had been pounding like a bass drum not too long after he sunk down on the couch with me.

He let out a long breath, his fingers curling into the back of the couch. "Alright," he drawled. "But if we're gonna keep this up, there has to be some ground rules."

I nodded, hanging on his every word.

"First," he began with a finger between us. "This stays casual. I'm not interested in a committed relationship. That's not where my head's at, and I don't want to mislead you."

"We're on the same page with that one." The last thing I needed was to jump into another relationship.

"Second," he continued, his eyes locking with mine. "This stays between us. No one else in the house finds out. Not Easton, not Booker, not anyone."

I hesitated for just a moment, considering the weight of his words. "I can do that."

For a moment, Maverick didn't say anything, his gaze lingering on me as if he were searching for any sign of hesitation. When he didn't find any, he leaned forward, his warm breath fanned across my face, just as it did the other night. Mint, along with the woodsy scent of his cologne, wreaked havoc on my senses. I had no idea how he managed to smell so good at all hours of the day.

"You really enjoyed my dick that much?" he asked again, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

I scoffed, giving his shoulder a light shove. "You seemed like you were enjoying yourself too."

"Never said I didn't." The hungry look in his eye was back. I only caught a glimpse of it before his lips were hovering next to my ear. "You taste so fucking sweet."

The hot flash I had earlier was back. But now it travelled across my body, tossing me into a fiery inferno. Maverick's palm met my thigh, his heat soaking through my leggings. I dragged my bottom lip into my mouth, trying to focus on breathing.

"What did you want me to show you this time?"

A shiver of anticipation rattled my spine. "I wouldn't mind some feedback on my head-giving skills."

If possible, Maverick's eyes darkened even more. "You want to learn how to take this cock without gagging?"

His thumb met my bottom lip, pressing down on the delicate skin. I sucked in a breath. The way he was speaking thrilled me. It had my body ready and willing to do unspeakable things. Not trusting myself to speak, I gave him a nod.

A sly grin transformed his face when my fingers reached for the button of his jeans. "Nuh-uh-uh," he teased, hand wrapping around mine. "I want to hear you say how much you want it."

_ _ _ _ _

author's note:

Read the full chapter over on Ream!

Happy reading!