“Excellent. Here’s my card. Call me next week and we’ll discuss your options.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” I shake George’s hand, then hold it out to Peter. He looks down at it, confused. Then glances back up at me like he’s waiting for the punch line. “Christ, just shake it, Pan.”
A smile ten times too big for his face breaks out as he grabs and pumps my hand harder than necessary. I don’t say anything, though, because he’s probably been storing it up for years. When he finally releases me, I accept a hug and cheek kiss from Wendy then wait for John to say his goodbyes.
“Night, boys,” George says absently as he answers his cell phone.
“Yeah, night, boys,” Pan echoes, holding up his own phone. “Now hurry up and go so I can take video evidence of Hook strutting on his way out.”
I jab a finger in Pan’s direction. “Keep it up, smart-ass, and you’ll have to find yourself a new best man.”
Peter’s blue eyes blow wide just before I turn and start to walk away with my laughing boyfriend in tow.
“Wen, did you hear that? You heard him say it, right? Did everyone hear Hook say he’s my best man?” Then he shouts after me, “It’s a done deal now, Hook! I have witnesses!”
When we exit the ballroom, John about loses it. “Oh my God, did you see the look on his face? That was so perfect, babe. You should’ve told me; I could’ve gotten it on camera. Hey, the elevator for the parking garage is that way.”
I continue leading him in the opposite direction. “We’re not going home tonight. I got us a room.”
A few months ago, I moved in with John at his house in London and gave the loft to Smee and Starkey. I thought for sure he’d get sick of me, but I should’ve known better. John worked tirelessly for a whole weekend, integrating our things until it felt like a shared home, and I’ve been living in domesticated bliss ever since. The world is officially upside down, but I like it like this.
“A hotel room? At the Empire?” We stop at the elevator banks, and I push the button to call the next car. “But we don’t have any fresh clothes or—”
Like I did before, I pull him in by the scruff of his neck and force him to focus on me. “I brought us an overnight bag and dropped it off in our room earlier. We have everything we need for the night, so stop worrying.”
He sinks his teeth into that plump lower lip, making me groan. “Don’t start anything you’d rather not make a scene with, Darling.”
“Sorry, it’s just…you planned a romantic getaway for us.”
The doors open with a ding. I gesture for him to board the empty car first, then follow, grateful for the privacy. I swipe the special key card over the panel that unlocks the access to the second highest floor. It took me a while to save up for one of the fancy suites, but the look on John’s face makes it all worth it.
“It’s not exactly a getaway, it’s only one night.”
He steps in close and presses me against the wall. “Stop downplaying everything, James. This is crazy romantic, and I’m blown away, so just accept it and kiss me.”
“That I can do.”
I kiss him all the way up to our floor. I kiss him as we walk down the hall, taking quick glances at the doors until we find the right one. I kiss him as we fall into the room and fumble with the privacy door hanger before shutting ourselves in and throwing all the locks into place. I kiss him as we rip off our bow ties and unbutton each other’s shirts…
“Don’t you want to see the room?”
“Later. Much later,” he pants then attacks me again.
I’m so swept up in the moment, I almost forget my plans. Just as his hands drop to my waistband, I somehow find the strength to break apart. “Wait, wait, wait.”
He freezes. “What’s wrong? Did I do someth—”
“Shhh, no, baby, it’s nothing like that,” I say softly, framing his face with my hands. “I want to tell you something.”
“Okay. What is it?”
We’re still in the entryway of the suite with his back pressed against the door. I briefly consider taking him into the room but decide against it. I want to get everything out here, so that when we finally do go into the room, there’s nothing left to talk about.
I take a deep breath and release it slowly, trying to quiet these damn butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach, but it doesn’t work. I’ll have to ride this out with them sitting shotgun.
“Johnathan, you know that I love you,” I start, my voice thick with emotion. “Six months ago, I gave you my heart, my mind, and my soul. They were dented and broken, but you wanted them just the way they were, so they became yours. At the time, that was all I had to offer you. But now…now I want to give you my body, too.”
It takes a few seconds to sink in. And then it hits him. Golden eyes flare, and he shakes his head. “James, I told you that I don’t need—”
“I know, and the fact that you’ve never so much as hinted differently means the world to me. But I’m not the same man I was when we got together. I’m not saying I’m 100%, so we should go slow like we’ve been, but I’m ready for it all now. I know I am. More than that, it’s what I want.”
He bites his lip, and I can see his mind racing, trying to weigh the pros against the cons for multiple outcomes, always protecting me, even when he doesn’t need to.
I worked hard in therapy to mentally separate the shame of being violated from the idea of inviting a lover into my body on my terms. Logically, I knew there was a difference, but before, the thought of penetration under any circumstance shut my brain down instantly. After I made progress mentally, John and I began to slowly test the waters. We’d agree on what he would do, and he always stopped at the slightest hint my discomfort was headed into panic attack territory. Sometimes it took several sessions before we could move on, but eventually, I accepted his whole finger, and that was a huge turning point.
He didn’t waste his first opportunity to show me just how good he could make me feel, and when he milked my fucking prostate, I saw stars. Not only was it the most amazing thing I’d ever felt, but it retrained my brain. It was like saying Penetration = Mind-Blowing Orgasm and after that, things got a lot easier. Now I’m able to take three of his fingers, and I’ve learned to crave the burn as he stretches me to accept him.
I never thought I could get this far. I didn’t think it was possible for me to heal. Honestly, I don’t know that I’d even have tried if it wasn’t for John. I couldn’t ask for a better partner or a better lover, not only for this but for everything. I really am the luckiest fucking man in the world, that out of everyone, he chose me, and one day, I’m going to marry him in front of our friends and family and whatever God might be watching. But tonight, I’m ready for a different kind of union.
Resting my forehead on his, I breathe him in, reveling in the heady scents of whiskey and cologne with a trace of the mint he ate after dinner. My hands drop to press against his chest—one over his heart and the other over the skull and swords tattoo on his right pec that matches mine in the same spot. He smells and feels like home, and love, and hope.
Like my everything.
“Please, Johnathan,” I whisper. “Make love to me.”
Big hands come up to frame my face as his thumbs rub along my cheekbones. His whiskey-colored eyes swim with emotion he doesn’t bother to blink away. “I love you so fucking much, you know that, right?”
The corner of my mouth hitches up the slightest bit. “Yeah, baby, I know.”
“And you can say stop at any time and that’s where it ends, no regrets, no worries, just like always.”
This man. Every day, he fucking kills me. “I know that, too. Now that we got all that out of the way, will you please fuck me already?”
There it is. That’s what I’ve been missing.
His smile finally returned, and with it, so did my sun. There was a time when I said that I’d never be able to live in the light with him, but I had it all wrong.
Johnathan doesn’t
live in the light. He is the light.
Every time he smiles at me or turns those golden eyes my way, I feel his love shining on me, and it burns as bright and as hot as that giant fireball in the sky. Every day I take another step out of the darkness from my past and toward my future with the man I love.
As he takes me by the hand and leads me over to the bed, my heart races. I’m mostly excited, but I can’t deny I’m also nervous. I know I still have a long way to go before I’m completely free, or as free as I can be. But it won’t matter if it takes me five more months or five years. Because John Darling will be with me every step of way, chasing away the shadows, picking me up when I fall, and reminding me that I’m always worth fighting for.
We spend the rest of the night making love and making plans wrapped up in each other’s arms. And right before we drift off to sleep, I press a kiss to his temple and whisper, “Thank you, Johnathan.”
“For what?”
“For everything. For being my happily ever after.”
“Always, Captain. Always.”
Acknowledgments
I have so many people to thank for helping me with this book and starting this series. Apologies in advance if my tired, deadline brain forgets anyone. It is definitely not intentional.
As always, thank you to my loving husband and children who show great understanding and patience when I lock myself away for days and weeks at a time to finish a book, which interrupts our normal life more than I’d like. I couldn’t do my dream job without their support.
Thank you to my work wifeys and soul sisters, Cindi Madsen and Rebecca Yarros, for everything and anything: plotting, reading, sprinting, blurb-shaping, whip-cracking, encouraging, supporting, laughing, and a thousand other things I could never list even if I tried. My life is immeasurably better with them in it, and I seriously don’t know what I’d do without our daily conversations and weekly video chats. As a tearful Jerry Maguire once said, they complete me. #UnholyTrinity
To my incredible agent, Nicole Resciniti of the Seymour Agency, for her never-ending advice and support, talking me down from proverbial ledges, and working hard to get me awesome opportunities that allow me to share my stories with wider audiences. She’s truly the backbone of my career, and without her, I would be lost. I’m incredibly grateful to have her in my life, and someday I hope to return all the good she’s done for me, ten-fold.
To Miranda Grissom, Super Assistant Extraordinaire, who has literally saved my sanity more times than I can count. I proposed to her on the second day we worked together and continue to propose regularly. I never want to be without her again. Like, EVER. So, she’s stuck with me.
To Lana Kart who makes my amazing graphic teasers and always accommodates my last-minute rush jobs because she’s totally amazeballs.
To Lorelei James who has become one of my greatest friends and a constant source for fun texts, adorable baby pics, and writerly encouragement. I’m so grateful we’re friends, and I’ll never stop fangirling over her.
To Erin McRae who always drops everything to read every single chapter as soon as I hit send, even in the middle of the night most times. She’s the best cheerleader a girl could ever ask for, and she sets me straight whenever I start to doubt my writing.
To Rebecca Barney and Lea Schafer, two amazing ladies, friends, and editors, who helped me polish this labor of love until it shined as bright as John’s light. (Except neither of them saw this section, so don’t blame them for all my incorrect punctuation and typos. LOL)
To Jaycee DeLorenzo of Sweet 'N Spicy Designs who created the beautiful covers for Pan, Hook, and Tink, and is literally the easiest, most pleasant, drama-free designer I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. If you need design work done, she’s the woman to see.
To Danni Stone who created the most amazing digital art featuring Hook and John. (See after this section.) She truly captured my favorite boys and I could stare at the drawing all day. I’ve already told her I’m hiring her to draw every couple/throuple in the Neverland series, and we’re making them available to the public as well, so make sure you check out her Etsy store!
To Brenda Ambrosius, the most kickass attorney I could’ve ever asked for. She truly has a gift for crafting legal letters with all the professionalism they require plus a healthy dose of ghetto subtext. Because of everything she’s done and continues to do for me, I’m naming a heroine after her (with a slight variation) in this series. Look for her to be introduced in Tink’s book!
To Hannah Murray and her Mister for putting up with my incessant questions about bullet wounds and recovery details, which helped me immensely for the end of the book.
To Liz, my FBI consultant who tried valiantly to make everything in my book accurate, despite my every plot issue that made it virtually impossible to work. I apologize profusely for straight up murdering most (all?) of the protocols, and I thank her for what little bits of realism I managed to squeeze into the story.
To everyone in the Maxwell Mob: thank you for sticking with me all these years and getting excited about my new projects in my ever-shifting publishing schedule. Your constant support, enthusiasm, and posts about Jason Momoa are what keep me going. Every. Single. Day.
A very special thank you to all the bloggers who work tirelessly and for free to shout out about my books, make graphics, invite me for takeovers, offer advice, take time to read and review my ARCs, and are just in general super amazing women whose passion is to lift up other women. You are the foundation of this book community we all live in, and we couldn’t reach nearly as many readers as we do without you. I’m forever grateful for your help and humbled by your generous spirits.
And finally, thank you to everyone who’s read this book. I hope you enjoyed my contemporary twist for another set of characters from the original Peter Pan, and I especially hope you’ll stick around for the remaining books I have planned in the Neverland Novels. This series is a passion project for me, one I’m incredibly proud of, and I promise to work hard to make it the best I can for you. If you enjoyed it—or even if you didn’t—I would super-duper appreciate your honest review on Amazon, Goodreads, or Bookbub. Sharing is caring, and reviews are what makes an author’s world go round. :)
If you’d like to keep up with what I’m working on and when my next releases come out, you can sign up for my newsletter. And if you love sneak peeks, sexy men, dirty jokes, and Jason Momoa memes, make sure you join me in my reader group on Facebook, the Maxwell Mob.
HOOK + JOHN
Art created by Danni Stone
Prints available in her Etsy store
https://www.etsy.com/shop/ArtByDanniStone
* * *
The Neverland Novels series holds a special place in my heart. I hope you fall in love with the characters as much as I have. The plan is for the series to be ten books. I want to give all of the characters their own special Happily Ever After.
* * *
Stay up to date on the latest Neverland News and more from Gina L. Maxwell by signing up for her Newsletter.
www.ginalmaxwell.com/newsletter
* * *
If you haven’t experienced Peter and Wendy’s epic reunion in the first Neverland Novel, PAN, here’s a s
mall taste of their love story.
Chapter One
Peter
Then…
Age 12
Neverland, North Carolina
* * *
When someone is lost, it's because there's a place where they normally belong—one where people miss them and never stop looking for them. But me and the other boys have never belonged anywhere but here. No one misses us, and there sure as hell isn't anyone out there looking for us. So I’m not sure why they call us lost.
We know we came from somewhere—we weren’t born at the Neverland School for Lost Boys—the only question is where. Not that I care to know—if my mother didn’t want me bad enough to make sure I stayed with her, why would I? —but the younger boys who wish we had
a mother sometimes ask me. I'm old enough to know that storks don't deliver babies to random couples, and even if they did, a stork would never drop an innocent baby—or eleven—into the care of Fred Croc and his wife Delia. But I still don’t have the answers they’re looking for.
"How long does it take to wash your dirty fuckin' mitts up there?" Croc yells up the stairs. "Get your asses down here pronto!"
The boys and I exchange glances in the rust-framed mirror over the row of sinks in our community bathroom. I hate the fear I can see in their eyes, especially over something as stupid as taking too long to wash their grease-stained hands. Living here is a constant practice in "damned if we do, damned if we don't." We get punished if we take too long to wash up after working our shifts at the body shop, but if we come down for dinner with so much as a smudge, we get punished for that too. If we're lucky, it's being sent to bed without supper. If we're not, we end up with belt marks across our backs.
I wink at them, all younger than me by a couple of years, except for Hook, and speak so that my words don't travel down the stairs. "Dirty work makes dirty hands, am I right, boys?" It’s a play on words because not only is our work literally dirty, it’s also illegal.
They all snicker and get back to washing and rinsing, the worry erased from their faces for a while longer at least.
Hook rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. "Everything's a joke to you, Pan. When are you gonna grow up? You act like it's normal for kids to be working in a chop shop. This is called a school, but we spend more time busting our asses taking cars apart or putting them back together for a small-time crook than we ever have cracking open our textbooks."
I shrug. "It might not be normal for other kids, but it's our normal. There's nothing we can do to change it, so we might as well make the best of things." I wipe my hands on a towel that was dingy white at best last week but is now a shade of soiled gray. Looking over at Hook's overgrown black hair as he bends over the sink that's much too short for him, I add, "Besides, growing up doesn't sound like all that much fun to me. At least here we have food and a place to sleep. Growing up means getting banished from Neverland, and who the hell knows what happens to the kids then."
Hook (Neverland Novels Book 2) Page 31
