IOU

by Kristy Marie

For my daughter. With every turd you encounter, know your prince awaits you. Just remember to have patience and pepper spray.

I guess when you’re an only child, you learn to entertain yourself.

“About twenty minutes ago. You were doing that weird, chanting thing.” My lips purse. “It’s called brainstorming.” “It’s called schizophrenia. We’ve asked you to stop talking to the voices, Mav. It’s weirding us out.”

Okay. No big deal. Women lose their shit all the time. If they didn’t, men would act like they ran the world. A little bit of crazy never hurt anyone.

“Loss, any kind of loss, is hard. Take all the time you need. Find yourself, Ainsley. The world is a vast place, and there’s no need in limiting yourself over one prick with a saggy ass.”

I try not to encourage her online stalking of my father. It’s been twenty years, but I guess when you’ve been burned as she has, you want to know what someone has that you didn’t. I’ve never met or spoken to my father. He’s been a ghost in our lives, and that’s just fine with me.

The woman is a fixer. She’d auction off her soul if she thought I needed something.

All I know is that I made the fatal mistake my mother always warned me about. In loving Tucker, I lost sight of me. Women should never lose sight of their hopes and dreams. They should be individuals that are amplified by their mates—she for real used the term mate. Women should always be independent because the older you get (her lecture, not mine), the more you forget who that woman is.

My relationship was going to be different from hers and my dad’s. We were different. Until we weren’t. But I can’t change what happened. People make their own choices.

It’s not my fault he’s a whore. It’s not Taylor’s fault that she’s a conniving little cunt. We are who we are. Ugliness and all.

Tucker thought it was annoying that I was always on time, but I thought it was respectful. Why set a time if you don’t intend to be there at said time? But we’ve already established Tucker is a dick, so I need to move on.

I eye the intimidating door once more, noting at closer inspection streaks through stained handprints just below the handle. Are they the tears of his victims? Were they begging for their lives? Their friends’ lives?

“Waitress,” he purrs. His voice has this melody of a luring song—one meant to pull you in and destroy your heart in a matter of seconds. It doesn’t affect me, though. “Dick at table forty-three, the princess who needed his steak warmed.”

“Oh, wow. This is a really nice sofa.” The back is made out of these big pillows that just swallow my body. “It’s like it’s giving me a hug.” And I really need a hug right now.

“I mean, I would like to, but there aren’t many openings around here, and I refuse to be a stripper, not that I’m judging the women who are. I just don’t have that kind of confidence in my body.” Good Lord. I take it back. She has eight hours and then she’s out of here.

“Are you too good to eat a sandwich for dinner?” Ah, the fire is back. I was wondering how long it would take. I shut my laptop. “No, I’m not too good, but I don’t typically eat after six.” Her nose scrunches. “Why? Are you afraid you might get fat?” Who can I fucking call? Hugh? Would he know how to bribe someone into letting her stay with them?

He chuckles, getting out of the car. “There’s nothing about you that’s plain.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, following behind him as he pauses to lock the car. “Are you saying I’m complicated?”

She narrows her eyes. “Fine. I thought you were finding me a forever home. I’m tired of living here.” The feeling is mutual. “Why did you say it like you are one of those abused dogs they try to guilt people into adopting with sad music?”

“Tell me something, Maverick.” I hum out a nonanswer, trying to keep my eyes from drifting lower. “Look closely. Do you see two shits or a fuck anywhere in my eyes?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a playing card. It doesn’t scare me anymore. I have so many now that Maverick will die before I can repay them all.

I love getting under her skin. It’s better than poker.

“Ready.” Excitedly, she shifts in her seat, pushing up against my hip. “Can you see?” I swallow. “I can see.” Right down her tank top where the soft swell of her breasts rises with each intake of breath. If that weren’t torture enough, the smell of my shampoo coming from her hair is enough for me to want to stake a claim.

I kiss her on the nose instead. “Good night, Ainsley. I expect half of my fake million tomorrow morning, payable in IOUs.”

I moan. “Can we please watch something else tonight?” Her lips flatten, and she gives me the side-eye like how dare I request to watch something on my own TV.

“Stop checking on me.” I groan, snagging the hand on my chest and tugging her entire body across me so she’s wedged into my side before I place her hand back on my heart. “Now, go to sleep,” I order. And we do. Together. Side by side, making a mess of our contract.

Especially his dark, messy hair and tattoos. But he always has a shield up. That shield keeps you from enjoying the hottest things about him, like his smile. His quick-witted personality. And his beautiful broken heart.

“Want to know what I see?” he asks, his voice warmer as his head bows to my ears and speaks the words directly to my heart. “I see a survivor—a force to be reckoned with.” Chills break along my skin. “I see a strong and independent woman. One who forgives no matter what she’s been through. The woman in that TV reflection is brave, bold, and full of life.” His fingers wrap around mine before he repeats the process. “She’s caring and kind.” He brings my left hand across my body and places it on the bat. “Beautiful and funny.” He turns us to the side, and I stare at our image. His penetrating gaze peering at me through the reflection. “She cowers to no man.” His head leans into mine like he can’t get close enough. “She takes what she wants.” The bat is lifted. “She’s fucking invincible.”

Those stormy eyes flash with an intensity I’ve never seen from Maverick. At least when he’s not been pissed. His hands graze up my waist and over my shoulders until they rest at my cheeks. His jaw ticks as he watches me watching him. Gah, he really is stunning. And then he growls out, “Fuck it,” before smashing his lips to mine.

“Ainsley.” He tries prying me off and setting me on my feet. I have no shame. “Nooooo.” His chest rumbles with laughter. “Not here. Let’s go home.” Home. Yes, home sounds good.

He’s my spirit animal. Well, not my animal. He’s my spirit human and I might just have to stay indebted to him so he can never get rid of me.

He said to get whatever I wanted at the store. What I wanted was ice cream and dick with a side of mac and cheese. So here we are.

“I knew that. I was just giving your heart time to pace itself.” Total lie and he probably knows it. He chuckles. “My heart can handle you, I promise.”

“Your soaked pussy,” he drawls, dragging a finger over my wet panties, “is all the reinforcement I need.”

“Do the CliffsNotes say to suck a woman’s nipple because I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” I offer. He grins. “Is that so? You want me to put my mouth on your tits, Ainsley?”

I didn’t just please her, I worshipped her body like it was the last item on my bucket list. I honored her. I begged to please her.

I care for her. God, I think I might be in fucking love with her.

She’s finally moved on from this prick. He isn’t coming back into her life. Not now. Not ever. She’s fucking mine.

Too bad I’m not interested in anything else he has to offer. I already have her. And now, he knows it.

Call me a coward, but I can’t risk her talking to him. She might forgive him and . . . it doesn’t matter. Turning Tucker away is for her own good.

Tucker had it wrong. She was never his. She’s always been mine; she just didn’t know it yet.

“Now, let me see all of you.” So many meanings are tied up in those eight words. I want everything from Ainsley James. Every second of crazy. Every angry word. I want it all. Every inch she’s willing to let me see.

Fuck Tucker. He’ll never get a chance to tell her he’s a douche. Ainsley James is mine and there’s no way I’ll ever let her go.

“You’re going to need to be more specific.” I tsk. A guttural moan escapes her. “I want your dick. I want it inside me now.” “That’s my girl. Tell me what you need.”

“You’re so goddamned beautiful.”

“Maverick.” Maverick is freaking right. “Say it again,” I demand, fumbling with my zipper like some kind of teenager, all excited and shit. “Maverick,” she says, and I can just hear the smile in her voice. She likes that I want to hear her say my name. She likes knowing she gets to me—likes knowing she can break through my cold and rough exterior.

I let the tip of my dick leak arousal over her stunning ass cheeks, marking my territory. It does something crazy to my chest.

All I can do is focus so I don’t jack off and come all over her pretty back. She wants me inside her, not all over her.

“You better hold on,” I tell her through clenched teeth—dammit she feels amazing. “You won’t remember your name by the time I’m finished.”

My mama always said you know you love a man when you don’t want to poison his food. I so don’t want to poison Maverick’s food. I might want to eat half of it, but not poison it. Scary Maverick Lexington has become more than just my roommate. He’s become something far more permanent. Maverick makes me feel like my crazy is perfect and adorable . . . I’ve never felt so adored.

“I won’t let anyone come between us,” he murmurs, moving the hair off my neck and placing a soft kiss against my heated skin. “It’s not about staking a claim, but about protecting a future.”