Teasing: Chapter 12

There are few things in life as relaxing as summer rain on a warm night.

—Emmie’s Secret Thoughts

Maverick smiles, and it silences my mind in a way nothing ever has. The worry stops. The anxiety stands still. And the debilitating fear of what life will bring falls somewhere to the hidden places in the dark recesses of my mind.

There’s only him and me and this crazy, crazy moment frozen in time.

“Tell me why you’re not what I need, Emmie. Because I’ve been trying to ignore this pull. Forcing myself to ignore the way I want you. In my life . . . In my bed . . .”

Oh holy hell.

With one hand wrapped around the back of my neck, his thumb rubs along the bottom of my jaw and sends a cool chill over my heated skin. “And it’s not working anymore,” he groans, and the sound is deep, and gravelly, and oh so sexy. “Hell, I don’t know that it ever worked.”

Mav’s dark-blue eyes are hungry as they focus on my lips, and my blood hums under my skin, and I push everything else away and focus on him.

“Do you want to kiss me, Maverick?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything more, Em.” His calloused thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and I dart my tongue out and taste his skin, in love with the way his pupils practically explode. “Emmie . . .” he warns.

This is it.

This is the moment.

The one where I choose a path and pray it’s the right choice.

God, I wish I had a better sense of direction. I close my eyes and whisper, “You know, I get lost everywhere I go.”

The way this man laughs is one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard. “You found us.”

“You were pretty hard to miss, considering you moved in next door, all scary and growly and demanding.” I think back to the way he was ready to go to war over my camera, and now knowing him the way I do, it’s even hotter than it was that day.

His eyes narrow as they search my face. “Is that how you see me?”

“I see so much more.” I slowly shake my head. “You scare me, Maverick.”

“Tell me why, Em. I’m a man who doesn’t trust easily, and I want to trust you, but you don’t make it easy.” Tension pulls tight in every beautiful muscle in his body.

We’re right there . . . on the precipice of something huge.

I feel it in my soul.

How I answer him is going to change everything. For both of us. So bracing myself for the fallout, I do the only thing I can. I give him me. I choose the truth. Even if it hurts.

My top teeth drag over my bottom lip as I fight for words that will be kind to my heart. Ones that won’t hurt as much as others would. Not an easy thing to pick when they all feel like I’m about to flay myself wide open and stand in a shower of lemon juice.

“Do you remember wanting my camera?” I ask and am rewarded with another smile.

A brilliant one. Damn, this man should smile more.

“I started calling you Cujo in my head after that,” I admit, my nerves rising like the creek’s tide. “But here’s the thing—there’s a reason I take pictures. I take them of everything.” I swallow and force myself to keep going. If I hesitate now, I’ll never get through this. “Unlike the rest of the world, with hundreds of pictures sitting on their cell phones that won’t ever be printed out, I print mine. I love mine. Every picture I take is for a reason. A memory. A stolen moment in time I don’t want to forget.”

“What do you do with them?” The question is cautious. He wants to know, but I think he’s scared I’ll freeze up.

Probably not wrong.

My heart pounds against my ribs, threatening to crack open in my chest.

“I have dozens of scrapbooks. Years of memories. Vivi and Camden are the only two people in the world I’ve ever talked about this with.”

His hand cradles my cheek as he stares into my eyes, giving me a strength he doesn’t even realize he’s sharing. “Trust me enough not to hurt you, Emmie. I trust you every day with the one thing in the world I love above everything else. It’s not easy, but I do it.”

I lean into his touch and channel that strength.

“My father was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s fifteen years ago . . .” I whisper, scared those words will fracture the dam holding back years of pain, while trying to remember what life was like before that. But I can’t. I haven’t been able to for a long time. “I was six.”

“Em—”

“Don’t,” I stop him. “If you want me to get this out, you’ve got to let me just say it, or I’ll never get through it. Even Camden, Vivi, and I barely talk about it. It hurts too much. It’s easier to just deal with it. Live with it. Talking about it is different.”

I close my eyes and push down the pain. “Mom left three years later, and things got worse. I haven’t seen her since then. Camden still talks to her, but Vivi and I don’t. I think Cam just feels bad for her, but that’s his problem. I don’t feel bad for her.” Maybe that makes me a bad person. A bad daughter. But I can live with that because she left. She didn’t care what it would do to Dad or to us. She just . . . left.

“The decline was slow, but like I said, I was young. So I didn’t really notice at first. Camden . . . he took it all on himself. He made sure Vivi and I were okay after Mom left. He made sure Dad was okay. It all fell on him and eventually Vivi. The two of them raised me as much as Dad did. They stepped in . . . stepped up when he couldn’t. We all worry. About the future. About the past. About what happens next.”

The quiet cadence of the rain hitting the creek as it slows calms me, and I focus on that while I pull my composure together and fortify my walls.

“Most days, he doesn’t remember. Not me or Vivi or Camden. He talks about us like we’re still little kids, and in his mind, we are. He asks for Mom. Not that he’s seen her in years. He doesn’t remember that she left. Just that he loves her. The rest of his life is just . . . gone. He was a great dad. When he was good, he was so good. He did everything he could with us, when he could. And he could for years. Just not every day. Vivi and I did the best we could once Camden went away to school. But it just . . .” A sob gets stuck in my throat, thinking about it. “It just got to be too much. Everybody leaves in the end, I guess,” I murmur and look away, unable to stomach the pity I know is going to be in Maverick’s eyes.

“Emmie.” He runs a hand over my head sweetly, like I’ve seen him do so many times to Rosie, then cups my neck and waits until I look at him. And I’m not ready to see the concern shining in his dark-blue eyes. Because it’s not pity. It’s something deeper. Something I’m not ready to see. “I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that has to be.”

I want to tell him, good.

I never want him to know that kind of pain.

Not him. Not Rosie. Not because of me or anyone else.

“I can give you tonight, Mav. But I don’t think I can give you more than that.” No matter how much I wish things were different. “I swore I’d never put anyone else through this hell.”

“You’re not your dad, Em.” His voice is strong and sure and almost makes me believe maybe something between us could be possible. But it’s not. It can’t be.

“But I might be. Any of us could be,” I whisper, broken. “The bad days are bad. Really bad. My family has been shattered, and I don’t want to bring you and Rosie into that.”

“Pretty sure that’s my decision to make.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and I relax into him, loving the feel of his lips against my skin. “Life doesn’t make promises, Emmie. Only you and I can do that.”

“I don’t have a promise to give you, Mav. I try to live my life as much as I can. Really live it. Enjoy it as much as I can. Document it, so one day . . .” I lose the battle, and my voice cracks when I can’t control it anymore. “If I can’t remember it . . . I’ll be able to see it. To look at the pictures. At the albums. And know that I lived. That I loved my life. That I didn’t waste it. But I don’t want to put anyone through what we went through.”

He tilts my head back, so I’m forced to look at him. “Emmie . . . this doesn’t define you. You came into my life, all laughter and light and sunshine and chaos wrapped in a damn tutu, sprinkling glitter around my house like fairy dust. You are not broken. You are not your father. You have every right to be a completely different person. One who’s angry and jaded, but you’re not. You’re the exact opposite—because you’ve chosen to be.”

“You don’t know me, Maverick,” I stop him. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

“Then show me. Let me know you. Let me in,” he pleads, everything about him calling out to me. Asking me to trust him. To trust myself.

The problem is I don’t think I can.

“And when you leave? What then?”

Maverick

Emmie looks up at me with big, golden-green eyes, and I want to tell her I’ll never leave. That’s not who I am. But she’s not ready to hear that. Not yet. “You know, I never saw you coming. I thought you were a temporary fix. A Band-Aid. A nanny for a few weeks until I could find someone else. Someone who didn’t drive me crazy. Instead, you walked into my house, this bright burst of sunshine, loving my daughter, and laughing with my best friend, and don’t even get me started on your damn sunrise yoga with my brother.”

“What’s wrong with sunrise yoga?” She perks up. “Ryker says it’s helping with his flexibility. Maybe you should join us.”

“Pretty sure those little outfits you wear should be illegal,” I grumble, unable to hide my smile because it’s her. “Not that you should ever stop wearing them. You’ve definitely been wearing them in a fantasy or two.”

“Maverick,” she gasps.

I pull her closer. Feeling the rise and fall of her chest against mine. Her soft skin. Her warmth draped over me, and I decide it’s now or never. “Falling for you was never in my playbook, Em. But letting you go isn’t an option either.”

“How can you fall for me if you don’t even trust me?”

I stiffen, and the look she gives me could cut glass, it’s so damn sharp.

“If you want me to trust you. Want me to lay it all out on the table . . . to show you all my pain. All the ugliest corners of my soul, you’ve got to give me something in return.”

“Can’t I just buy you flowers? You like flowers.” I run my fingers through her hair, pulling out her messy bun and letting the long strands fall around her shoulders. “You’re so fucking pretty, Emmie.”

“Nice try, buddy, but you can’t buy me with flowers or compliments.” At least she’s smiling when she says it. “But now I know where Rosie gets her negotiating skills.”

“I blame that on my mom. She controls the men in her life without any of us even realizing we’re being controlled.” A smile tugs at her lips, and my body relaxes.

The effect she has on me is crazy.

“Sounds like I’d like your mom.”

“She’ll like you.” And the thought of introducing Emmie to my parents makes me laugh. “My family isn’t like yours. It isn’t like most families. My cousins and I have always stuck together but not really out of physical need. It’s just always been easier to close ranks. When people find out you’re a Kingston, or worse, a Beneventi, they usually want something from you. Money, notoriety, social standing . . . power. Once they realize they’re not getting it, they start to sell your secrets. The fucking Kroydon Kronicles blog has made us their bitch for years, publicizing every misstep . . . every secret any of us has had. People don’t care who they’re potentially hurting. Just that it makes them money. Everybody wants something. It’s the way of the world.”

Her mouth parts, and a quiet “Oh” spills past her lips. “I hadn’t realized . . .”

“We’re high-profile. It is what it is. The good always comes with the bad. A lot of my family has had bodyguards for years. My parents never forced that on us, thank God. But I think the fact that we’re Beneventis, not just Kingstons, makes a difference.” I don’t say more. I can’t. It’s not my place. But when your uncle is the most powerful man in the city, people tend not to fuck with you. Dad may not have gone into the family business, but most people know Sebastian Beneventi is Sam Beneventi’s little brother, and if you hurt him or his family, you’re basically signing your own death sentence.

Emmie’s hands slide under the hem of my t-shirt and splay against my abs, just above my belt, and any blood I had left in my head runs straight to my cock. “And what about Rosie’s mom . . . ? Did she play into your trust issues at all? Neither of you ever mention her.”

“Denae wanted everything she thought came with being a Kingston. She loved the attention. We met the summer before my senior year of college and dated for a few months. She wanted to be seen. Wanted to be mentioned. She thought she’d get a modeling contract, like a bunch of influencers she followed had. When it didn’t happen, she figured she’d use me to make it happen. When that didn’t pan out, I found out she started feeding the Kroydon Kronicles information about us. About my family . . . And I broke it off.”

Emmie tenses. “Mav . . .”

“A few months later, I found out she was pregnant, and my life changed. Rosie was born, and I never looked back.” I want to hate her, but she gave me Rosie, and for that alone, I’ll never regret meeting her or the time I spent with her in my life. But that’s the best she’s going to get from me.

“Why isn’t she in Rosie’s life?” she asks nervously, like she’s scared of the answer.

“She wasn’t interested in being a parent.” My gut churns, remembering those days. How miserable she was. “Rosie didn’t fit into her plan, but I think she wanted her to, if that makes sense. The idea of Rosie was better for Denae than Rosie actually was. She left a few years ago, after Rosie had a reaction to a peanut butter cup Denae let her have. Said she couldn’t do it. Didn’t want to try.” Fuck. I’m still so fucking angry when I think about it. “Her fucking loss.”

Emmie’s cheeks flame red. “What a bitch.”

“Rosie was so young . . . too young. She only saw her once a week back then and barely asked about her when that stopped. But one day, she will. One day, it’ll hurt that her mom left, and I’ll never forgive Denae for that.”

“Everybody leaves,” she whispers, and I know I’m about to lose her.

“Em—”

She pushes off my lap and stands between my legs.

My hands immediately circle her waist, and she cups my face. “I need you to think about this, Maverick. I need us both to think about this. If we hurt each other, we hurt Rosie, and I’m not willing to do that.”

“And what if we don’t hurt each other?” I push but don’t move. I don’t want to take away the control Emmie has in this moment. She needs it more than me. “What if we’re the best thing that’s ever happened?”

She tilts her head, and her pretty eyes soften. “Where did you come from and what happened to my Cujo?”

“I’m still me. I’ll always protect what’s mine. Guess I just figured out who that is.”

Her smile is slow and fucking stunning as she pulls back a step. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Mav.”

“This isn’t over, Em.”

“Monday . . .” she whispers and walks away.

Fuck.