Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(118)

“Nashville offered, but I haven’t agreed to go yet.”

“Because you’re undecided?”

He reaches up and traces the contours of my face. “I keep going back and forth, trying to figure out what I really want. For a good while, I wanted the contract not because of the career, but because it would make the optics for you and me better.”

I nod. “I could turn that around and say that because of who you are, the stigma would most definitely affect you, because you’d own it.” I curl the rogue wave swooping over his forehead around my finger and let it go.

“Mmm . . . Yeah, which is what I realized and why I had to do a mental reset and take into consideration not just how it impacted optics, but how it would impact the rest of my life. I started thinking about what it would look like if I don’t accept the offer. Am I going to regret walking away?”

“And what did you decide?” My heart is in my throat, because I can see the changes that have slowly been taking place over the past few months—how instead of putting everyone he loves before himself, Mav is finally also taking his own needs into consideration.

“I don’t think I’ll regret it if I don’t accept. I had a talk with my dad, and I laid it all out for him. When I put the money I could be making aside—and I know that’s not an easy thing for people to do—but when I take out the paycheck and look critically at what I’m being offered . . . Maybe I could rise, do well in the league. But I’m always going to be compared to my dad, and he’s had a legendary career. He’s blown records out of the water as both a player and a coach. I don’t want to live in a shadow. And if I take the offer, that’s what I’m signing on for.” He laces his fingers with mine. “I want to build my own legacy. When I look five years into the future, I don’t see me playing for the NHL. I see me working with my dad, getting kids ready for their own shot. I see myself running a self-defense program. I see a normal life.”

“Then that’s what you should have.” I lean down and press my lips to his.

He runs his fingers through my hair and parts his lips, inviting me in. I sink into the kiss and the connection, wanting to get lost in him. In us.

His hand eases down my side but stops at my hip.

“Are you okay with this? It doesn’t have to lead to anything,” he murmurs.

I nod. “I want you. I need the closeness.”

“Can I take care of you, then? Make you feel good?” His lips move along the edge of my jaw.

I suck his bottom lip between mine. “I would love that, but I would love it more if we could take care of each other.”

He pulls back, eyes roving over my face. “I’ll just get you ready, then?”

We undress each other carefully, and his face falls when he sees the bruises that have formed over the past twenty-four hours. He kisses every single one before he settles between my thighs and brings me to orgasm with his mouth. I get lost in feeling good. In his attentiveness. In his love.

When I’m sated and boneless, he sits up and settles me in his lap. “Is this still okay? I want you to have full control.”

“This is perfect.” I brace my hands on his shoulders and lift as he positions himself at my entrance.

My eyes flutter closed as I take him inside on a needy sigh. When my ass rests on his thighs, I open my eyes and meet his gaze, which is laced with concern.

I link my fingers behind his neck. “How did you become exactly the person I need?”

He skims my cheek with his knuckle. “I don’t know, but I’ll love you for as long as you want me.”

Our mouths connect, and we make slow, gentle love, finding a fragment of peace within our connection, keeping the chaos of the world at bay, if only for a little while.

An hour later, his phone buzzes on his nightstand with a message. DAD appears on the screen, and Maverick picks up the phone and checks it.

“My mom is home, and dinner is in half an hour, if we’re interested.” He quirks a brow. “It’s okay if you’re not in the mood to deal with family dinner. This whole thing is a lot, and my mom . . . She’s intense on a good day.”

As much as I’d like to avoid the awkwardness of it all, if Maverick and I are going to try to make this work, I need to win over his mother. And with an ex-husband who isn’t technically an ex yet, and who also threatened to burn my cabin down yesterday, I’m climbing a serious uphill battle.

I must mull it over too long because Maverick adds, “I’ll tell them you’re still sleeping.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need to do that. I want to come.” I can’t hide from the reality I’ve created for myself. And I don’t want to do that to Maverick.

We get dressed, and I check my reflection in the mirror. There’s nothing I can do to hide the bruise on my cheek. Maverick laces his fingers with mine, and we leave the cocoon of the pool house. It’s built into the side of a hill to the left of the main house. The view from the backyard is stunning, and there’s a covered outdoor dining area, where his parents are currently setting up for dinner.

His mother’s gaze lifts as soon as we cross the patio and goes directly to our clasped hands. For a moment, she’s guarded, and then her eyes shift and settle on my face. The silverware she’s holding clatters to the table. “Oh my God.”