Part 24 (1/2)
Forty-five minutes later, the front door opens, and Mav is pizza-less. ”They were already closed.” He hands me a bouquet of flowers. ”Will these suffice?”
”Daisies?”
He grins. ”They're your favorite.”
I brush a fingertip over the petals. ”I can't eat them, though.”
”Well, I'll have to Google it, but I don't think daisies are poisonous. Sautee them up with a little bit of garlic.”
”Will they call me when they're going to be late?”
”If you eat them, then no. If not, we'll have to add them to our plan and buy them a phone. After that, if they're not douchebag daisies, then they'll probably call.”
”So you're a douchebag daisy?”
”Yes, I am.” He picks up a grumpy-eyed Morocco and plops him onto the floor before crawling up on me. ”I'm sorry.”
”You say that every time.”
”I'm sorry every time.” He trails a thumb over my mouth. ”I just get so focused that I forget to check the clock.”
I run my fingers through his hair. ”How long is this going to last, Mav?”
”This what?”
”All of it. The no calls, the late nights, the weekend hours. We're young, we're newlyweds, and we haven't made love in two weeks.”
”I know, and I'm sorry.”
”You're so tired when you get home. I'm worried about you.”
”How about this: as soon as this trial is over, I'll take a few vacation days. We can go somewhere if you want.”
”I want to just stay here. Be together doing nothing.”
”If that's what you want. Anything.”
”Okay.”
Mav c.o.c.ks his head. ”Okay?”
”Yeah, okay.”
He kisses me, taking the flowers out of my hand. ”I'm awake now. What do you want to do?”
I admire my new purchase in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. It arrived in the mail a few days ago. The skimpy black bra barely covers me, and the matching thong makes my b.u.t.t look more plump than flat. My favorite piece is the skin-tight, all-lace chemise that covers the bra and underwear. Maverick is going to love it.
I brush through my hair until I'm satisfied with the style. In ten minutes it won't matter how it looks, nor will I care.
Through the ajar door, I see Maverick lying on our bed. He has his gla.s.ses on, the light of his phone keeping him awake as he scrolls through his notifications.
I flip off the bathroom light and pad into our room. As soon as I do, his eyes flick up and run the length of my body.
He takes off his gla.s.ses. ”That's hot as f.u.c.k.”
”I don't get that phrase. How is f.u.c.k hot?”
Maverick chuckles. He gets out of bed and saunters to me. He grabs me around the waist, tosses me over his shoulder, and squeezes my b.u.t.t cheek. I yelp.
”You'll get it once I have you panting and moaning,” he says.
He dumps me onto the bed, the desire in his gaze turning to red. It's a color I haven't seen in him for a while, but tonight it burns a blazing scarlet.
He makes love to me, the scarlet darkening, then becoming lighter, slipping into amber. The amber morphs into honey after we climax, and he smiles at me. A sweet kiss lands on my lips and we're cuddling, surrounded by his outpouring of cobalt that coc.o.o.ns me in tranquility.
”I love you, Mrs. Tavare,” he murmurs.
I glide my fingers over his chest, enjoying how my gentle strokes on his skin makes my heart flutter.
”Will you love me in a few months when you've been worked into a coma?” I ask.
”Yes, I'll still love you.”
”How about when we have kids and I'm too tired to do my hair or put on make-up and have gained forty pounds?”
”You'll be more beautiful than you are now, and, if it's possible, I'll love you even more.”
”When I'm all gray and wrinkly and my b.o.o.bs hang down to my knees?”
Maverick chuckles. ”Will I still be able to play with those b.o.o.bs?”
”They'll be like accordions. You'll have to scrunch them up into your hands.”
”But I can play with them, right?”
”If you can reach them, then you can play with them.”
”Yep. Even then you'll be mine.”
”What if something horrible happens, Mav?” I ask, turning serious. I rise up on my elbows and peer into his eyes.
”Like what?”