Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Looking back up, I notice Maverick’s jacket is torn and his shorts look askew. My mouth opens. “You got in the dumpster?”

  He grins. “Dumpster diver, at your service.”

  I throw my arms around him, somehow managing to not squish Han in the process. My lips graze his cheek for a second and he turns his head to meet them, but I pull away before that happens.

  I react by looking down at my runaway cat. “What if no one had seen him all weekend? You probably saved one of his lives.”

  “Undoubtedly. I hope he’s worth it.”

  I sigh. “He’s all I have.”

  “Well, you have me now.” He clears his throat. “He looks a bit frazzled. Let’s get you both home.”

  * * *

  We pull up at my house and it’s nearly dark. Skye’s car is gone, and I recall a text from her earlier saying she was staying at Tyler’s place tonight.

  I’m still holding Han in my arms and he’s anxious to get down, so I get to the front door in a hurry. Maverick follows me, taking my keys from my bag and unlocking my door.

  As soon as he gets it open, I plop the cat down and he takes off. “Now don’t run away again,” I scold him as he flounces toward the kitchen where his food and water are.

  I gaze back at Maverick, who’s watching me.

  “What?”

  He shrugs as he leans against the doorjamb and brushes those gorgeous eyes over me. “Just like looking at you. I’m glad we found him.”

  “Me too,” I sigh. “Well, thank you for taking me there and finding him.”

  Maverick starts, straightening up. “Oh, I just realized we didn’t go get your car at the gym.”

  I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going anywhere else tonight, and Skye will be back tomorrow.”

  He chews on his lip. “Don’t you have plans?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “No.”

  He watches me, studying me, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Do you want to stay for dinner? I can cook for us—you know, as a thank you for helping me find Han. I don’t think I would have been able to get him out of that dumpster even if I had heard him in there.”

  “I’d love that.” An almost shy expression crosses his face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever cooked for me…you know, since my mom.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Come in.” I’m nervous, feeling him walking behind me as we enter the house and he checks out the place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s all mine, built in the late eighties and only a block from campus.

  Before I get to the kitchen, he grabs my hand, halting me. His expression is conflicted as he stares at me. “Hey, I’m sorry for being an ass lately, Delaney. I swear there’s no one else. I’m just—”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I get it. You’re busy.”

  It seems like he wants to say more, but he lets my hand go, takes off his jacket, and tosses it across the back of the couch. I see his chest…his naked chest…and I swallow thickly.

  Feeling breathless, I say, “Take a look in the fridge and decide what you’d like. I have a little bit of everything.”

  “You did mention nachos once,” he says as he pulls out a pack of ground beef and holds it up.

  I nod and he grins, making my face heat. “I did. Now move your ass so I can work my magic.”

  “Can I watch?” he says softly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against my fridge, perfectly showcasing his biceps and the ropes of muscle in his forearms.

  I take a deep breath. “Sure. Hand me my apron, will you?” I say, turning on the stovetop and putting the beef in a pan. I tilt my head at the hooks along the back wall, and he strides over to pick up the black apron. He shakes it out and brings it over to me, and I expect him to hand it over, but he doesn’t; instead, he slips the loop over my hair, his hands brushing lightly over my shoulders as he spins me around to tie the back. Blood pounds in my veins at the way he handles me, as if he’s perfectly attuned to every nuance of my skin.

  He spins me back around. “May the Forks Be With You?” He shakes his head as he reads the white words printed on the apron.

  I ease away from him to stir the beef.

  “You’re such a nerd, Delaney.”

  “And your point is?”

  His eyes light up. “I like it. I like a girl with a brain.”

  “Good. I like you too.” I say the words lightly.

  He’s closer now, leaning against the fridge and watching me as I work. His scent hits me—male with a hint of sweat—and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off his chest.

  Just keep him at a distance, I tell myself, but the truth is I’m weak and tired of fighting this feeling. Maverick freaking Monroe is in my kitchen, without a shirt on, watching me cook like he wants to eat me instead of the food I’m preparing.

  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand drifting down my arm as he pulls away. “You’re quite possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he says softly as his thumb rubs at a spot on my shoulder, and I don’t stop him, don’t pull away. “You’re nervous,” he says, leaning in closer. “Are you trying not to sneeze?”

  I clear my throat. “Actually, my sneezing seems to be better lately.” It’s true, and the more I’m around him, the sassier I’m becoming.

  “Nice.”

  I fiddle with the pan. “Uh, do you want to find us a movie while I cook?” I gesture to the big screen in the den, which is easily visible from the kitchen with the open floor plan of the house.

  “Sure. How about The Princess Bride?”

  I drop the spatula in the pan and turn to look at him. A small grin curls his mouth.

  “Why would you say that?”

  His eyes lower. “I saw the poster you have up in the den.”

  Oh, right. I glance past him to the gift He-Man left for me at work. I already got it framed and up on the wall, and every time I look at it, I think about the mysterious man who gave it to me.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” I say.

  “Mine too.”

  I suck in a breath, my heart flying. I want to ask if he’s He-Man…but I don’t. “Yeah, sure, The Princess Bride sounds great. It’s free on Netflix.”

  I work in the kitchen and listen to him as he fiddles with the remote, searching for the iconic classic. As I drain the meat and set it to the side, I work precisely and methodically, trying to keep my brain from piecing together what I know is true.

  It has to be him. Too much has been similar, and I feel close to both of them.

  I’m dicing tomatoes at the counter when he strides back into the kitchen, his piercing gaze sweeping over me. “Mind if I take a shower before we eat?”

  “In my shower?”

  “No, your neighbor’s. Yes, yours.”

  “And you’ll use my soap?” I picture him using my loofa too, rubbing it across that magnificent chest.

  Another grin. “Is this a problem? Are you uptight about people using your stuff?”

  “No.” How do I explain that the image of him in my house with water spraying down on him…I shake myself. “Yes, of course you can shower. I-I just…what will you put on?”

  He rakes a hand through his blond hair and scratches his jaw, which I notice has acquired a bit of a shadow. I wonder how it would feel between my…

  “I can wear a towel,” he says, a glint of glee in his eyes.

  “No.”

  “One of your shirts?” His eyes brush over my chest.

  “Too small.”

  He shrugs. “I can always just walk around naked.” I throw a dishtowel at him and he catches it. “This?”

  “No, goofball!” I huff out a laugh. He really is incorrigible. “Wait here, I think I have something.”

  I turn to head to my bedroom and hear him call out after me. “It better not be one of Alex’s shirts.”

  I chuckle as I grab the garment I have in mind, a roomy shirt featuring a white cat wearing spectacles. I head back to the kitch
en, thrust it into his hands, and push him toward the bathroom. He walks backward, letting me guide him, my hands on his forearms.

  He’s in the bathroom and I’m just standing here waiting for him to shut the door, but he doesn’t right away. He’s looking at me as if he wants to say something.

  So do I.

  I swallow, feeling breathless. “I…I have to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  My chest catches as our eyes meet. I bite my lip. “Are you…He-Man?”

  His chin goes up as his eyes lower to half-mast. “Damn, Buttercup, I’ve been waiting weeks for you to ask me that.”

  * * *

  Maverick—or should I say, He-Man—is showering while I furiously set the table and finish making lemonade.

  He’s in my freaking shower…naked.

  I check the clock on the wall. It seems like he’s been in there forever, although in reality it’s only been fifteen minutes. Feeling flustered by the images my mind is conjuring up, I march down the hall to knock on the door and let him know everything’s done.

  Just as I raise my hand, Han comes up behind me and puts his front paws on the bathroom door, which of course isn’t shut all the way, so it opens. Darn cat.

  I don’t mean to spy on Maverick. Really it’s just an accident that I peek through the crack in the door and see the mirror, which shows the glass shower enclosure…and his naked form. I swallow hard at his broad chest, his thick arms as he scrubs his hair, the drops of water as they run down his pecs to that deliciously tempting V, right down to his—

  Our eyes meet in the mirror and I take a step back, out of sight.

  Shit.

  The water turns off.

  I clear my throat. “Everything’s ready,” I say, projecting my voice.

  The shower door opens and shuts. “Do you think dinner can wait?” he says.

  I can’t see his face, and it’s killing me, so I step forward a little so we can talk. Before I realize it, my feet have taken me right into the bathroom, and it’s not an accident. My body knows what it wants.

  “Wait for what?” I say.

  He’s standing there in front of me, and I blink rapidly, my traitorous eyes tracking a wayward droplet of water as it skirts down his corded neck, past his shoulders, and to his legs.

  “Buttercup, I think you know what.”

  The air is hot and humid, making my face damp as I stand within a few feet of him. My hands itch to touch him, to caress that utter perfection, that body that’s been honed by years of hard work and training.

  “Delaney,” he says, and I hear the command in his tone, the sheer confidence that he knows I want him.

  “You’re naked,” I say, averting my gaze and looking up at the ceiling.

  “And you’re not—why?”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Delaney.” His tone is silky. “Look at me.”

  I do and my body shudders with built-up need, taking him in. God, I want to be naked. I want to throw myself all over him and satisfy this craving, but…

  “I want you, Delaney, and it’s killing me slowly.”

  I suck in a sharp breath as his hand moves to caress his hard cock. He’s unapologetic and proud as he pumps from tip to root, his palms working over the velvety-looking skin of his hard, long member.

  “He-Man has a big sword,” I say breathlessly.

  “Damn straight.” He rolls his fingers over the mushroom-shaped head as he bites his lip, making me bite my lip. His breathing increases as his chest rises, and I’m filled with the need to be the one to make that noise come from him.

  Desire swirls in his gaze. “This is all for you…you.”

  He releases his grip and I whimper, missing the sight of him pleasuring himself. He takes a step toward me and threads his hands through my hair, tugging at the pins that hold the buns together. With a touch so light it makes me shiver, he trails his fingers down the sides of my neck and onto my shoulders.

  “You’re wet,” I say, watching the water drip down his chest.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  He murmurs his approval softly, and a thousand thoughts fly at me at once, telling me to stop, to not get this close to another athlete, but I’m past caring.

  “This is crazy,” I murmur.

  “Crazy good,” is his reply.

  “It’s probably a mistake,” I add.

  “Best fucking mistake ever,” he says before taking my mouth, his full and sensuous lips sliding over mine, parting them until I sink into him and revel in the sensation of him against me.

  Strong hands cup my face as his tongue tangles with mine, and I put my hands on top of his then whimper with need.

  “Delaney,” he whispers in my ear as his mouth explores the tender curve of my neck and the hollow of my throat. His teeth nip at my skin, and I groan out his name.

  With a deftness that doesn’t surprise me, he has me out of my pink workout top and sports bra. He backs me up against the wall and kisses me, sighing into my mouth as my hands snake around his shoulders and cling to him. His cock is pinned between us, pressing into me, and I swivel my hips against it.

  His hand skates across my breast teasingly and his mouth follows, capturing my nipple and making me moan.

  Is it possible to orgasm with just this?

  Why am I surprised? It’s him.

  His hand curls around my ass and my leg hooks around his hip, needing friction. With a groan, he pushes my yoga pants down to my feet, puts my leg back around his hips, and slides his fingers underneath my panties. I’m thankful I put on the pink lace ones this morning, but those thoughts vanish as his fingers brush back and forth, teasing my clit and the entrance to my core. He fingers me slow and then fast, his lips sucking my collarbone as I toss my head back and take in much-needed air. The scent of him fresh from the shower, the wetness of his skin, the sheer beauty of him—it all overwhelms me.

  My pelvis moves with him as my spine tingles, the energy building and heating my insides. I’m putty in his hands as he touches me, his forehead pressing against mine.

  “You’re dripping for me,” he says, and I moan. I can’t do anything else but be at his mercy as he plays me. Our breaths mingle together and when our eyes meet, I combust.

  Fireworks go off as I come, my body vibrating against his hand, my walls reverberating with bliss. I place both hands on his shoulders to hang on, the aftershocks of the quake keeping my body undulating against him. He watches intently, that piercing gaze of his so open and honest and needy that I reach up and kiss him.

  “That was…” I don’t know what to say. Amazing seems so cliché; so does awesome.

  He seems to know I have no words, looking as bemused as I am by our explosive chemistry. “I didn’t plan on this. I was just taking a shower and I saw you…” He swallows, his eyes searching my face. His arms curl around my waist. “Do you want more?”

  I feel his cock brushing against my panties, which are now back in place. All it would take is for him to push that fabric aside and slide into me.

  “I’ll be your scabbard,” I murmur, and he flashes me a grin then swoops me up in his arms.

  “You’re a nut,” he says as I point him to my bedroom amid giggles.

  He’s not even winded by carrying me, and I sink into his skin, wanting to bury myself in him.

  He laughs as he sets me on my bed and scoots me over until we’re under my covers, face-to-face.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I pause, my brain spinning. I’ve had a moment to think between here and the bathroom, and I’m not sure.

  It’s like he reads my mind. “I’m not him, Delaney. I’m never going to cheat on you.”

  I swallow. “So this isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment hook-up?”

  His hand on my waist tugs me closer. “It’s going to take a million hook-ups to get you out of my head.”

  My body curls into his as he pulls me against his chest and kisses me again, harder this tim
e.

  He works his way down my body at a leisurely pace, his lips toying with my nipples, plucking at them with his teeth.

  I’m moaning as he slides farther down, his mouth finding secret places on my skin, the bend of my knee, the inside of my thigh. When his tongue slides across my clit, my lower body bows up and clenches, on the verge once again.

  His hand pushes my chest down, holding me firmly in place as he works me over with the dance of his mouth. He devours me, giving me everything and not holding back. I’m panting when he finally comes up for air, my body trembling, ready to explode.

  “Maverick.” I taste his name on my lips, and it’s so good. My hands tug him up to me, caressing his chest and hips, learning his skin. We kiss deeply, and the heat between us is the hottest I’ve ever been for another person in my life. His cock begs for me to take it in my hands, and I do, running my fingers over his length, lightly teasing the tip.

  “Do you have condoms?” he asks between kisses.

  I nod toward the nightstand. He reaches over, opens the drawer, and grabs one. I’m impatient, stroking him with my palms as he tears it with his teeth and slides it on.

  He positions himself and enters me slowly, easing his thickness inside my entrance and then darting out, making me moan.

  “More,” I tell him.

  He pumps inside, soft and slow and barely there, making me crazy.

  “Please,” I beg.

  He bends his forehead to mine and kisses me as he adjusts my hips for a better angle, and then he slides all the way in, to the hilt, his girth filling me up tight as he moves inside me. With him on his knees, he takes me, hard and fast, his breath coming in pants as he works above me.

  “All mine, Delaney.” His words are broken up, and I can tell he’s into this. There’s an intensity to him, and he’s staring at me like he’ll never let me go.

  Arching his back, his fingers rub at my pussy, playing me in a synchronized rhythm with his thrusts. I come apart.

  He watches me with a heavy-lidded gaze, his eyes eating up every detail of my orgasm. “That’s what I was waiting for, Buttercup.”

  With a shout, he comes after me, his body tightening and straining as his cock hardens inside me, his body pumping out every last bit of sensation.