Текст книги "Dangerously Bound"
Автор книги: Eden Bradley
Соавторы: Eden Bradley
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“Don’t move,” he commanded.
She held her muscles taut, stilling herself as best she could. His scent surrounded her, invaded her head, her body, filtering deep within her system. Dark leather, fresh citrus, the smoky scent of sex.
“Allie, I need to . . .”
He trailed off, then he wrapped his hands around her waist, making her feel as if she weighed no more than a doll as he flipped her over onto her stomach. With his hands grasping her hips, he raised her up on her hands and knees. Before she had time to think about it, to protest that connection of face to face, gaze to gaze, he surged into her from behind, and she cried out in pleasure.
“God, Mick!”
He slung his hips, burying his cock deep inside her. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and reached between her thighs to press her hard clitoris. She sighed when he began to rub, to pinch, to tug on it.
“I’m going to come,” she told him, nearly breathless.
“No you don’t, Allie girl. You hold it back for me. Don’t you come until I tell you.”
She groaned.
He pinched her clit hard, and she would have jumped if his big body hadn’t been flush up against hers, holding her in place.
He began to move, surging into her, sliding out, and every stroke was exquisite. She was shivering all over, her body working hard not to climax, to hold the need to come at bay. He bucked harder, his fingers tensing on her clit, and she had to bite her lip, to bite her orgasm back.
He was slamming into her, hard enough to hurt, but she welcomed it, needed it. Needed to feel him so deep inside her she would carry the bruises for days.
“Baby . . . Christ, you feel so. Damn. Good. So good . . .”
He wrapped his other arm under her breasts and pulled her up until she was on her knees, his arms holding her tight, his bog cock still ramming into her, over and over.
“Now,” he commanded, and bit into her shoulder.
Her pussy clenched hard as stars exploded in her eyes, the world spinning, dark, void of everything but their two bodies joined together, the pleasure and the pain. His strong arms held her together as her body shattered with sensation.
“Oh . . .”
He was groaning, bucking into her still, his fingers on her clit rubbing, pressing, driving her climax on.
When it was over they collapsed together on the bed, both of them covered in sweat. He still held her, spooning her from behind. His fingers still played lazily with her clit, sending small frissons of pleasure through her.
“Baby, baby, baby,” he murmured, nibbling on the back of her neck.
“Mmm.”
She felt amazing. Raw. Sore. Spent. But there was also that one tiny part of her that wished they’d come looking into each other’s eyes, that understood he’d turned her over for a reason that wasn’t all about the pleasure itself. And it hurt. But she understood that level of true intimacy would take some time.
She tried to let this be enough.
She snuggled back into him and he held her, his hand coming up to smooth over her thigh, sliding up her stomach, her ribs, to cup her breast. He stroked the skin there with his thumb as his breathing calmed.
She could smell the earthy scent of come in the air. Heard the sound of rain coming down outside, splashing against the wide leaves of the banana plant outside her bedroom window. Felt the small chill in the air brought by the rain. She shivered, and he held her tighter.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Wonderful.”
It was true. But the small doubt that had invaded her mind as soon as they’d finished was there, too, and just as true.
She caught his hand in hers and twined her fingers through his.
“Mick.”
“Yeah?”
“This is . . . we’re just beginning, aren’t we? To see if we can figure this out?” she asked.
“What, baby? Yes, sure. That’s what we talked about. That’s exactly what we’re doing here. It wouldn’t have been more than play at the club otherwise. Is that what you’re asking me?”
“I . . . yes, I guess it is.”
He was quiet for several moments. She wished he’d turn her over to face him, let her look into his eyes so she would know. But maybe neither of them really knew yet, as badly as she wanted to. Maybe that wasn’t possible.
“We need to start somewhere,” he said. “That’s the whole point. We can’t go back to where we used to be. That isn’t where we want to be anyway, is it?”
“No. Of course not.”
“So . . . we start here. And see where it goes.”
“Okay. Okay. I know you’re right. I’m just . . . we’ve played and . . .”
“Hey. I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere right now.”
He kissed her hair, and it made her heart squeeze. She brought their twined fingers to her lips and kissed his.
“See? It’s all good,” he said.
But was it? She wanted things between them to be good—what was happening now, what might happen down the road. She needed it to be, which wasn’t the smartest thing, perhaps, given the way Mick had run from her in the past. Maybe the “need” part was because they’d just played. Maybe she was bottoming out a bit. But whatever the reason, she couldn’t help herself. Logic and emotion didn’t always play well together. She just hoped she could get the logical part to even have a place in the game.
CHAPTER Eight
MICK WALKED INTO Flynn McCool’s, a favorite pub of his friends and brothers. They’d all been glad the bar managed to reopen after Katrina.
His bootheels scuffed on the weathered hardwood floor as he moved through the place and found Jamie at the bar. He settled onto a stool next to his friend.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Jamie answered with a lift of his chin toward the bartender. “A Guinness for the gentleman.”
“Yeah, I’m hardly that.”
“True enough.”
He could tell Jamie had already finished one beer and started another, even though it was only noon—his deeply buried Scottish accent only came out when he drank, or on those rare occasions when he was really pissed off. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to piss Jamie off lately. At least, not this week.
The bartender filled a tall mug and passed it to Mick.
“Thanks.” He turned to Jamie. “So, what’s up?”
“Just checking in with you about last night,” Jamie said. “I’ve already talked to Allie and she’s pretty closemouthed. Tell me what’s up with you two.”
“You know what I really hate, aside from your tendency to have your nose up everyone’s ass?”
“That’s not one of my particular fetishes, but go on.”
“I hate that I can’t fucking tell you to go to hell because you’re our damn negotiator.”
“And your friend,” Jamie reminded him.
“Yeah.” Mick paused to take a swig of the dark ale. “So you’re doing the responsible thing, is that it?”
“Nice to see you, too, buddy. Want to tell me why you’re in such a foul mood?” Jamie asked.
“Me? I’m fine. You’re the one drowning your sorrows. What’s up? Something at the shop?”
Jamie wrapped a hand around his mug, lifted it and took a long gulp. “May twentieth.”
“Yeah? And?”
His friend cast him a sideways glance and Mick remembered—the anniversary of his brother’s death. Was he a selfish bastard thinking of himself after all Jamie had lost? He already knew the answer.
“Shit, Jamie. Sorry, man. How many years is it?”
“Twenty-three. I can’t even believe it’s been that long since I’ve seen Ian. Although I guess he would look just like me, wouldn’t he?”
“I’m sorry,” Mick repeated, not sure what else to say.
“Trying not to be too morose. Especially after all these years. But there’s that twin thing you hear about, you know? It’s true, what people say.”
Mick clapped Jamie on the back. “You going to be okay?”
“Yeah. Just need a few drinks today. And I will again in a couple of months when it’s the anniversary of Brandon’s accident. But by tomorrow I’ll be back on track. Everyone’s allowed a black day now and then, right?”
“Right. Sure.” Mick grimaced, wondering if people were allowed black decades.
“So, distract me with the scandal that is whatever’s going on between you and Allie.”
“Said like a true reality TV whore.”
“Ice Road Truckers does not a whore make, my friend,” Jamie protested.
“I’m sure there are a few along that road.”
“Probably. Quit stalling and spill.”
Mick hesitated. “What did Allie tell you?”
“That as your best friend I’d better talk to you first.”
He grinned. “Good girl.”
Jamie set his beer down with a thud. “Jesus, Mick, just tell me what the hell went on so I can get on with my drinking.”
“Okay, fine.” He paused to sip his beer. “We went to the club and had some good play. Great, actually. Then we went back to her place. I left this morning only after making sure she wasn’t in subdrop. She was fine. She promised me she was fine.”
Jamie frowned. “Now tell me what’s in between the lines.”
He had to blow out a breath. “We’re . . . talking about being together. Just trying it out, seeing where we’re both at.”
“Can you expand on that?”
“I’d rather not.”
“No kidding. Do it anyway,” Jamie demanded. “Because I need to know if Allie really is all right.”
“Do you think I’d be here if she wasn’t?” Mick exploded, then reined himself in. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“Buddy, you are bent way the hell out of shape.”
“It was your idea to bring us back together.” Mick knew he was being childish, and he sighed, reaching for his beer. “And yeah, maybe I am bent. I don’t know what the hell is going to happen. I’m not sure what I want to happen. I’m just going with it for now.”
“That is such crap.”
“Fuck you, Jamie,” Mick muttered into his beer mug before he took a long gulp.
Jamie only shook his head at him.
“Okay, fine. I don’t know where my head is at when it comes to her. It’s too damn soon to tell. I don’t intend to hurt her if that’s what you’re worried about—”
“It is.”
“I get that. But what am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Back off and never see her again because I don’t know where we’ll end up? Would that be any better?”
“I don’t know. Would it?” Jamie asked.
Mick scrubbed at his chin. “I’m trying to figure it out, okay? Don’t ride me about this, Jamie,” he warned. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“You still have feelings for her,” Jamie stated.
“And you still have an uncanny gift for stating the obvious.”
Despite all the years of his attempts at denial, he knew he’d never been able to hide how he felt about Allie from his best friend. Hell, he hadn’t done a good job of hiding it from himself.
Jamie lowered his voice. “Mick, just don’t drag this on too long if you can’t carry through. That’s all I’m asking. Don’t hurt her any more than you have to.”
He nodded. “I feel like a bastard already for even being with her. I’d feel like a bastard if I refused her. There’s no good way out of this.”
Except that despite all his bluster he wasn’t sure he wanted out. Being with her felt too damn good to stop. Being with her, playing her, having her submit to him.
He understood his own limitations. He knew he’d had his walls up last night, this morning. He’d had to. Was it fair to her that challenging his limits was a sort of experiment for him? That he really didn’t have any idea how it would turn out?
“Hell, Jamie, this is all new to me. You two sprang it on me—and I’m not saying that to hit you over the head with it, okay? Just stating a fact. But I wasn’t ready for it. Not that I haven’t thought of being with Allie again, which I’m sure you know, but that was just fantasy material. Until now. Now it’s damn real, and I have Allie to be responsible for, without knowing what I’m even fucking capable of these days, outside of the BDSM arena.”
“Yeah, I get it, Mick.”
He took another gulp of his beer. “I don’t know if I can give her what she wants. But I don’t know if I can stop. It’s a tug-of-war in my head.”
No, he couldn’t stop now. Having had this taste of Allie—of Allie as a woman, rather than a girl—was something he couldn’t resist.
No, he wasn’t about to stop.
* * *
ALLIE SWUNG OPEN the back door to Marie Dawn’s house and walked into the cozy blue-and-white kitchen.
“Hi, honey, I’m home!” she called out as she let the screen door shut behind her.
Her best friend came in from the dining room and immediately wrapped Allie in a warm hug.
“Allie, chérie, I’ve missed you! I’m so sorry I couldn’t make lunch yesterday. If it had been anything other than an emergency with grand-mère . . . I feel terrible that it turned out to be nothing more than a little indigestion.”
“You had no way of knowing—it’s fine. And I’ve missed you, too.” She pulled away and held Marie Dawn at arm’s length. “And look how gorgeous your hair is! It’s almost to your waist. I love it.”
“So does Neal,” her friend said, beaming.
Mick’s brother Neal and Marie Dawn had eloped when she was still in college, and they were still as crazy about each other as they’d been the day they said their vows.
Must be nice.
“Let me get you some coffee. How hungry are you? I have a nice Niçoise salad ready, but I’m dying to hear everything.”
Allie sat down at the painted white kitchen table and let Marie Dawn place a cup of coffee in front of her while she tried to organize the chaos whirling around in her brain. She’d lied to Mick that morning when she’d told him she was fine. And either she’d done a great job of it, or he’d been anxious enough to get away that he’d accepted it. Maybe a little of both.
“Everything is a lot,” she said, playing with her coffee mug.
Marie Dawn sat down across from her. “Okay. Pick a place and start.”
Allie blew out a breath. “Well . . . Mick came to my place to pick me up, and things started to happen right away. I mean, it was obvious who was in charge from that first moment. And I liked it. I’m not complaining. We had an amazing scene at the club. Everything went really smoothly.” She laughed. “Well, not smoothly, maybe. The play was a little too rough for that to be the right word. But I know you don’t really want to know that part.”
Marie Dawn smiled. “Nope. The sexy stuff with my brother-in-law I don’t need to hear. I’ll just mentally fill in the blanks. Or not. Go on.”
“So, during aftercare we talked . . . and it was good. Honest. More honest than we’ve ever been, probably. I made him talk to me about what had gone wrong with us. In high school, and after that night we spent together later.”
“And?”
Allie bit her lip. “And . . . I asked him if we could start again. I didn’t expect to blurt it out the way I did, and I think he was surprised, too. Although neither of us should be, I suppose. I wouldn’t have forced this whole thing if that wasn’t at least part of my intention. And he wouldn’t have accepted—and he certainly wouldn’t have come back for a second round after that first night—if that weren’t part of his intention, too. At least I think so. Things got a little confusing later, but at the club after the scene we really talked. And he admitted a few things to me—things I’d already suspected, for the most part. About us. About how he felt after his accident. I knew it changed him, but I never really saw how deeply breaking his leg, having the rod surgery, the permanent limp, damaged him, maybe because I only actually saw him once after that.”
Marie Dawn nodded pensively. “I knew he never got over not being able to be a firefighter. Neal and I have talked about it. The whole family is aware of it. They’ve always been careful not to guilt-trip him about it.”
“They don’t need to—I think he does enough of that himself. He feels so ashamed. Because of the family, and because of that family pride in New Orleans, being a part of it.”
“Which is crazy,” Marie Dawn said. “I told you how much volunteer work he did after Katrina. For three years he worked on rebuilding people’s homes with Jamie’s brother, Allister. He still volunteers once in a while if a particular project comes up. It’s not as if he’s never paid his dues to this city. He likes to pretend he’s a badass, with all that bare-knuckle boxing stuff and his leather jackets, but he’s as good a citizen as any of his brothers.”
“I know. But he’s obviously never gotten over it. It’s really shaped how he feels about himself. And maybe how he feels about me.”
“In the past, or now?”
“Both, maybe. Because things were going really beautifully last night and then he just . . . turned away from me. Literally. Everything was amazing and . . . beautiful. And then he wouldn’t look at me anymore.”
Tears burned in her eyes, and she pressed against them with both hands.
Marie Dawn put a hand on her arm. “Oh, no, chérie, my sweet, please don’t be so sad. Men can be stupid creatures. Believe me, I know—I’ve been married to one for ten years.”
Allie had to smile. She took her hands away from her face and grasped both of her friend’s. “You’re right. And Mick’s stubborn as hell, too—a combination that scares me. But I know if I turn away we won’t have a chance.”
“It’s often the woman who has to take care of a relationship. And that’s my sexist comment for the day. But I think you’ll need to if you two are going to have a shot at being together. Because to get Mick to admit he’s afraid of anything will be pretty much impossible.”
Allie rolled her eyes. “That’s for sure. I just have to hang in there and see how this all plays out, I guess.”
“You can do it. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“I don’t always feel strong. But I’m trying.”
“When are you seeing him again?”
Allie shrugged. She’d been wondering the same thing all morning. “I don’t know. We didn’t actually talk about it. I assumed I’d just wait to hear from him, but now I think I’ll send him an email and ask.”
“Sweetie, just call him and demand his time.” Her friend tapped her temple. “Stupid, remember?”
Allie laughed. “I remember. Okay, I’ll call him.”
“Good. And when you talk to him, you can tell him I think he’s an idiot who’s too blind to see what’s right in front of his face.”
“How about I leave that to you? You’re family. And he won’t threaten to spank you.”
“I thought you liked that?”
She grinned. “Oh, I do.”
The banter with her best friend was cheering her up. So was the idea that she could take back some of the control in the situation by initiating her next meeting with Mick. She was going to have to in order to work past his walls, and maybe her own, too. Only time together would tell. If she had to force that time with him, she would. Dom or not, the ball was going to be in her court, and Mick would have to play by her rules for a while.
* * *
ALLIE HAD SPENT the rest of the afternoon organizing the PowerPoint presentation she was putting together for the Dolcetti expansion. Knowing the stubborn streak that ran in her family, she understood it was a long shot, but it was important to her to try—it was something she’d thought about and wanted to do since she’d first started culinary school. It was why she’d gone to learn the art of pastry to begin with. And putting her business plan together was also an excellent way to distract herself from the circling thoughts about Mick. She was dying to call and talk with him now that she’d made the decision, since he’d encouraged her to press the issue with her family, but she also knew guys usually needed some downtime to process things.
At nine o’clock she stood up from the kitchen table and stretched, poured herself a cup of dark coffee from her new French press and inhaled the rich aroma. Good coffee always felt like a luxury to her, one she’d become used to when living in Europe. Just because she was feeling the need for a little self-indulgence she added a spoonful of sugar before finding her cell phone and going into the bedroom to make the call. She set her coffee mug on the nightstand, sat on the bed and plumped a few pillows behind her. Why was her heart racing?
Calm down.
She did some yoga breathing before dialing Mick’s number.
“Reid here.”
“Mick, it’s me, Allie.”
“I’m glad. If it wasn’t, I’d know my caller ID was broken.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right.”
He chuckled and she closed her eyes in embarrassment.
Idiot.
“So,” she started, “I just wanted to talk to you. We haven’t done any checking in today.”
His tone sobered instantly. “You’re right. I should have. You okay?”
“Yes, fine. I hung out with Marie Dawn today, which was good. But . . . Mick, in my experience it’s always good to check in with my Top for a day or two after play, depending on how hard the play was, or the emotional response . . . if there’s another layer going on beneath the actual play. Which there is with us.”
“Fuck. You’re right and I’m sorry. Totally irresponsible of me not to call. It’s not like me. I got a call right after lunch and I’ve been wrapped up in this project all day. But I shouldn’t have let myself get too distracted to follow up.”
Follow up? Was that all she was to him—a task on his to-do list? But she knew he was covering for emotions he wasn’t ready to deal with. Making excuses. Still, it stung.
“Yes, well . . .” She didn’t know what else to say. And she realized she was a little mad, too, at his response. Or lack of response.
After a tense moment of silence, Mick swore under his breath. “Allie, look, I am sorry. I leave in the morning for a business trip. I have to go to Atlanta for a couple of days to scout out a new venue, meet with a new client. But I’ll be back on Thursday. We can see each other then.”
“Okay.”
She hadn’t meant to draw out the last syllable, hadn’t meant to sound so irritated. She was caught between the need to be honest with him and the fear of driving him away. But this wasn’t high school, or even college. And they’d both been in the kink community long enough to know how this stuff was supposed to be done. Total transparency was always the best option.
She took a breath. “Mick, if you have even an hour to spare, I could really use seeing you tonight. I can come there if that’ll be easier. But I need to see you.”
He was silent for a moment, and both the anger and the hurt that had been lingering inside her all day surged in her chest. Was he really going to turn her down?
Finally he said, “Sure, come on over. I’m still packing for this trip so it’s better if you come here, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Is it okay if I come now?”
“Yeah, sure.”
They hung up and she raced around the house looking for the right shade of lip gloss, pulled on a clean tank top, found a belt for her low-slung jeans and put on her new sandals and a pair of silver hoop earrings. At the last moment she shucked her way out of her clothes and put on clean—sexy black lace—lingerie.
We’re just talking.
Maybe. But one never knew. And even worse than being caught in an accident wearing shoddy lingerie was being caught in a surprise sexual encounter with less-than-stellar undergarments.
She locked up the house and jumped into her aunt’s old Coupe de Ville, fired up the big engine and made her way to Mick’s place, trying not to think about how unsatisfying their conversation had been, or the fear that was still simmering low inside her.
Parking was awful in his part of town, but she found a spot only two blocks away. If it had been almost any other city in the world, she would be nervous walking alone at night through the narrow streets, but this was her town.
Hers and Mick’s.
She found his place, an old plaster-over-brick painted in a rich terra-cotta. It was covered in flowering vines, as so many of the older buildings in the French Quarter were. She’d always loved how most of the city had the scent of flowers overlaying the mild scents of decay and old plaster, the exotic cooking smells. Even the car exhaust added something to the mix that was the distinct urban perfume of New Orleans.
She looked up and saw lights shining down through the windows on the second floor, where he’d told her his flat was. Her pulse grew warm and thready knowing she was going to see him. That he was going to touch her.
Hell, he’d better touch her. She needed to feel his arms around her. Needed to feel the reassurance of skin against skin even more, maybe.
But if that phone call had been any indication, he was probably still too shut down from the intensity of their night together, their open conversation, to give her what she so desperately needed from him. She didn’t want to need it, damn it. But the simple fact was that she did. Because it was Mick. Because when it came to him she was always a little desperate and needy. And maybe she was in a more intense state of subdrop than she realized, because “desperate” and “needy” were not like her at all. She sighed. Not when it came to anyone but Mick.
Tears stung her eyes, and she shook her head, tried to shake them away.
Stop it. Stay in the moment. Don’t project.
She inhaled, tucked her car keys into her purse and knocked.
She heard him coming down the stairs, and her heartbeat accelerated. To her horror, the tears burned even hotter behind her eyes.
“Goddamn it,” she muttered—just as he opened the door.
“All right. I guess I deserved that,” Mick said.
“No, it wasn’t you. It was . . . I’m just . . .”
A tear plopped onto her cheek and she started to turn away, but he took her hand in his.
“Hey,” he said gently. “Where you going, baby?”
And that did it. The damn tears started and wouldn’t stop. She hid her face in her hands.
“Hey, Allie girl. Come here.”
He pulled her into his chest, and she buried her face into him, took in his scent, tried to stop crying. It didn’t work. She pushed away from his hold on her.
“Don’t, Mick. Don’t do this if it’s all about you being Mr. Responsible. I’m going to be honest—I can’t take it if that’s what’s going on here. I don’t want it. Do you understand me?”
She was shaking so hard she dropped her purse. She let it sit there.
Mick looked shocked. Not that she could blame him. She hadn’t expected this, either.
“That’s not what this is about,” he finally ground out, some anger in his voice. “You know better than that.”
“Really, Mick? How could I know anything after you abandoned me all day to deal with the fallout from last night on my own? No email. No phone call.”
“I admit I should have called you, Allie, but I wasn’t abandoning you. You’re here now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but only because I called you.”
“You’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry.”
“Don’t cuss at me! Jesus, Mick.”
He scrubbed a hand over his goatee. “Allie . . . I always cuss like a sailor. I wasn’t cussing at you, just . . . cussing.”
“I know. I know that. I’m just . . . God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Look, I’m just . . . going. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m just . . .”
She turned to go once more, but he grasped her wrist even tighter and pulled her close to his big body, his arm sliding around her waist and holding her tight.
“Allie girl, tell me what this is about. I know I didn’t call and I should have—you’re absolutely right about that, and I’m a total irresponsible dick. I know it. But this seems like there’s more going on. Talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
The tears were still coming, rolling down her cheeks. She was absolutely horrified, wiping at them with one hand. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Tell me,” he commanded, making her take a breath.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to talk. Just talk. And then this happened.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t expect you to bail on me today. Maybe I should have known it was a possibility. But somehow I didn’t. And I think I’ve been crashing a little all day. I didn’t realize it. And then I come here and you’re mad at me, for God’s sake, making me feel even more abandoned and . . . like a child, Mick. Like when my dad died.”
Oh, God. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“Christ, Allie.” He pulled her into his body and she couldn’t fight him anymore. He stroked her hair, his chin resting on top of her head. “Baby. I didn’t mean to set off any of that stuff.”
“It’s not the first time,” she muttered, allowing herself the comfort of his touch.
“Fuck. You’d better come inside. We have shit to talk about.”
That didn’t sound good. But she let him pick up her purse and lead her up the narrow staircase to his flat anyway.
The place suited him, she saw right away, even through her upset and tears. All neutral colors, big furniture, plenty of wood. He sat her down on the leather couch and left her there for a moment, came back with a glass of water. She accepted it and took a few sips before he took it and set it on the coffee table. He sat down beside her and handed her some tissue. She wiped her eyes and nose while he waited quietly.
“Better?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I do think you’re crashing, Allie. That, and I didn’t come through for you today, and for that I apologize. To be honest, I was processing last night. And today. More than I thought I’d be. It’s a lot to think about.”
“For me, too.”
“Yeah, I know. Which probably contributed to your subdrop today.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“I wish you’d have come to me earlier. I know I should have been the one to initiate contact, but sometimes I can be pretty dumb when I’m caught up in my own head.”
“Marie Dawn sort of said the same thing.”
“Yeah, well, she’s had to live with my brother for a damn long time, so she’s familiar with the inherent stupidity of the Reid men.”
She sniffed. “She sort of said that, too.”
He pulled back and tilted her chin, watching her face, his dark brows drawn over his smoky gray eyes. “What do you need from me?”
It felt like a loaded question. “I don’t know.” That was as honest as she could be right now.
“Okay. Then how about this? We get undressed and climb into my bed and just curl up and watch some TV. We can talk when you feel like it. Or not. Come on.”
He pulled her to her feet and led her into the bedroom.
The furniture was all sleek, dark wood, the bed on a platform and covered in a charcoal gray duvet. Mick left her standing on the white faux-fur rug at the foot of the bed to pull the duvet down, exposing the smoky lilac sheets, only a few shades darker than the duvet on her own bed.
He came back to her and bent to slide her sandals off, drew her jeans down over her hips while she stood passively, her head spinning, a little numbed by too much emotion.
“Climb in. I’ll be right there.”
She got onto the bed, drew the sheets up to her waist. It felt a little odd, somehow, being in Mick’s bed. Maybe because this wasn’t about sex and seduction. It was just . . . them.
