He was so damn beautiful it made her heart ache.
“Allie, you’re crying.”
“What?” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It was . . . just a bad dream.”
The same one she’d had every night since she’d last seen Mick.
“I had to come,” he said.
“Why?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, her brain still half asleep yet churning a hundred miles an hour.
“Come on, baby. We have a lot to talk about.”
She bit her lip, trying to stay strong in her resolve even though every cell in her body wanted nothing more than to reach out for him. To feel the texture of his skin. The crush of his arms around her.
No.
“Can I at least have some water before you decide you won’t talk to me? I ran all the way here from my place. I’m a little dehydrated even with the rain.”
“Oh. I . . . yes, come on in, I guess.”
She turned and walked into the kitchen without looking at him, her pulse racing. She needed a moment to gather herself. She pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a breath before turning to hand it to him, along with a dish towel.
“Thanks.”
He popped open the bottle and drank, ran the towel over his face, his hair.
He seemed to fill up her small kitchen, and it was as much his presence as his height, his broad, muscular shoulders. His skin was slick with sweat and the New Orleans rain. There was rain caught on the tips of his dark lashes.
He wiped his mouth, looked at her. And as was his habit, it seemed as if he could see right through her. How the hell did he do that?
She put a hand on the back of a kitchen chair to steady herself. “So,” she started, looking at the floor. Anything to avoid that searching gray gaze. “What is it you think we have to say to each other?”
She looked up then, feeling the challenge of her own words.
“Plenty. At least, I have plenty to tell you. I need you to hear me out, Allie.”
“I—”
“Just do it,” he interrupted, his voice low. “Give me five minutes. If I can’t convince you I have a point, you’re free to ask me to go. And if you do, I won’t bother you ever again.”
There was an edge of command in his voice. And pain. That much was plain to see.
She chewed on her lip. This felt dangerous. Mick was dangerous. She’d always known that. But hadn’t that always been part of the allure? That and his purely masculine face, the features a little raw, yet beautiful to her all the same.
So beautiful his face alone broke her heart.
Stop it.
“Allie? Come on. Hear me out.”
She nodded and sat down slowly in the chair. Mick stayed on his feet.
“Okay.” He ran a hand over his damp hair. “I’m sorry. For every rotten asshole thing I’ve ever done to you. For every stupid thing I’ve done—and you were right back in the ER—I’ve been an idiot. I was punishing myself. I think you already know that much. You said as much.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. This was exactly what she wanted to hear from him. And everything she didn’t dare believe. “I think it’s what you’ve always done. You told me you’d stopped running, but that’s not true. It’s as if it’s almost habit for you. You create this self-fulfilling prophecy, Mick. Which one of us did you think you were punishing? Because frankly, I’m tired of it being me. And I don’t know why I convinced myself that it had just gone away. That’s what’s kept me in this with you, but I don’t have any reason to exist on blind faith anymore. There’s just been . . . too much has happened. I can’t take any more apologies. I can’t take any more worry that something horrible will happen to you because you invited it to.”
God, it hurt her to say it.
“I understand you feeling that way. I do. I’m not going to argue a single point. But we’ve built something together, Allie. Something important. And I refuse to walk away from it.”
“You don’t have to add yet another thing for you to feel responsible for destroying, Mick. You don’t have to walk away, because I already did. I did it because I had to. Why can’t you understand?”
“Because my life without you in it doesn’t make any sense. It never has. Don’t you see? It’s always been us. Mick and Allie. No matter how many years we spent apart. The ones who have to end up together if life is fair. Hell, even if it’s not. You were right about that, Allie.”
When all she could do was blink at him, he went on. “We were meant to be together. We both know it. You always have. I ran from it for years because I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I covered that up in excuses about you being so pure—and I don’t mean this as any kind of insult, but I knew damn well you weren’t some innocent virgin. I recognized your desires back when we were in high school, when you were a virgin. I saw a little of the darkness in you and I blamed myself for it. And the kink . . . back then I thought there was something wrong with me. But even now, knowing what I know about kink, what I know about you, the kink seems more pure for you.”
He started to pace then. She still had no idea what to say or where he was going with all this. All she knew was the staggering pain she felt at seeing him there, hearing that raw edge to his voice. But she didn’t know what she could trust in.
We were meant to be together.
Wasn’t that what she’d always believed?
He stopped and stared at her for several long moments.
“Are you letting me stay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You have my attention.”
He leaned against the counter behind him. “It’s all fucked up, and I’m just now getting it. What played into the way I viewed myself, and the way I viewed you through those lenses that saw me as . . . defective.” She saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. “It wasn’t about you at all. Except for the part where I love you. I always have. I always will. That much was true from the start.” His tone lowered, his brows drawing together. “Do you love me at all, Allie girl?”
Her breath caught on a strangled sob. “Of course I do!”
He was at her side in an instant, but when he tried to take her in his arms, she pushed him away.
“Mick, I don’t know how to feel right now. So, you’ve had this epiphany. Now what?”
“Now I stop the fighting—the kind that’s anything more than a workout. The kind that comes from anger and frustration. The kind with that edge of need that bites into me. I don’t need it anymore. I thought I did. But Allie, if I have you . . .”
“I don’t understand, Mick.” Her head was spinning. “I don’t know how this all comes together.”
“I know I’m not making much sense. I’m trying.” He stopped, scrubbed at his goatee. “Okay. Let me try this again. I started having these thoughts about kink back in high school and I felt like they were wrong. Crazy, maybe. I didn’t want to pollute you with the dirt going on in my head. Those urges got stronger as I grew older. By the time I was getting ready to leave for college, I was convinced I would ruin you somehow. I was barely eighteen—what did I know? I didn’t understand myself what was happening to me.”
“But we were together that one time when we were in college. And after that night I never heard from you again.” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “That tortured me, Mick! Because that night was . . . transcendent for me. I knew exactly what I wanted—what I’d fantasized about for such a long time. Things I could barely comprehend. I cried because it was so beautiful to me. Beautiful because it was with you. And then you took it all away from me.”
“I know. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I didn’t trust myself. And after that, I knew how much I’d hurt you by disappearing, and I felt even more like an asshole who could never deserve you. But things got even worse.”