Page 54 of Venomous Games

MAVEN

That night, after we finish our milkshakes and some fries, he drops me off at my apartment and tells me he has to go to work. Which works fine because I need to shower, and I at least want one more night in my bed before I have to go to his place. The following day, I don’t hear from him, and I don’t bother reaching out to find out why. I take my good luck and run with it.

I also don’t bother packing a single thing for the move to his place. If he wants me to move all my stuff, he can do it himself or hire someone else to do it for him.

My phone rings, and when I answer it, Carrie’s voice fills my ear.

“Maven.”

“Oh my gosh,” I sigh into the phone.

“Missed you too,” she says, and I know she’s smiling without having to see her.

“I have something to tell you.” It’s been weighing me down not being able to tell her, but I wasn’t allowed to contact her, and our last phone call just didn’t seem like the right time; actually, I don’t even know when the right time is. But I have to rip the bandage off sooner rather than later.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She pauses. “You got married without me?” Her tone tells me she’s sad I did it without her.

“How…”

“I have access to almost everything, and I get notifications on everything regarding you, to make sure your name doesn’t fall into any systems, so I was surprised to see an alert for a marriage license,” she explains. I should have known she would find out.

“Not intentionally,” I answer. “I don’t even like the man. Sure, he comes in handy, you know, to meet my sexual needs, but other than that…” I shrug and try to play it off. I don’t want her to know that I have feelings for him, because I’m still trying to work out what they are.

“Boston, right?” she asks.

I glance at the door to find him standing there.

“You aren’t packed,” he states, not even commenting on what I just said.

“I hate packing,” I tell him as Carrie waits quietly on the other end of the phone.

“I’ll send a mover today.” He turns and leaves.

“I have to go, Maven. Can I call you back?”

“Of course,” I say as Boston shuts the door.

I disconnect the call, then rush out and chase him down, finding him just inside the front door of the apartment complex. He’s about to open the door and leave, but he pauses when he hears me come up behind him.

“I’m lazy,” I whisper. “And I hate to clean, let alone pack.”

He turns toward me. “I gathered as much,” he says as he looks down at me.

“I’d be the worst roommate.”

“Wife,” he corrects.

“Roommate,” I assert.

He shakes his head and then steps up closer. I’m about to say something else when suddenly he slides his hands over my ass and then picks me up. My legs wrap around his waist without conscious thought. He turns, pushes me against the door, and starts kissing me. He takes the fight straight out of me and replaces it with need. Technically, it’s the start of a new week, so I’m not really breaking my rule about sex once a week.

“No, we can’t—” He slams his lips back on mine, not even caring about what I was about to say.

I feel his hardness between my legs, and he starts moving me up and down his length. The only thing separating us is a few thin layers of fabric, which do little to mute the sensations he’s evoking in me. Fuck, he feels good.

I shake my head and lean back. “Put me down.” He obeys, placing me on my feet, and I stand tall. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I glare up at him. “Goodbye, Detective.”

He adjusts his pants, then steps past me to the door, opening it and walking out.