“The accident,” she said, her chest going tight.
“Yeah. The accident. That pretty much ruined me. I’ve known it this whole time, when I’ve allowed myself to consciously think about it at all, which hasn’t been too often. And . . . well, I’m a guy, and I admit we’re not always the most enlightened of the species.”
“Agreed. Go on.”
She knew she wasn’t being very nice, with Mick laying his soul out on the table. But she was still as pissed off as she was hurt. Almost, anyway. The anger was helping her to keep a lid on her emotions. To keep her from throwing her arms around him and simply forgiving him everything because it damn well hurt to see that Mick having to say these things out loud—to say them to her—was tearing him apart.
“So,” he went on, “I need to talk to you about the accident, Allie. In a way I’ve never talked to anyone about it. Maybe not even to myself—and I swear I’m not saying this because I want pity or to scare you. I almost died that day. They told me I should have, given the speed of the impact and what happened to the bike. You asked me about my Latin tattoo? Non Timebo Mala—‘I will fear no evil.’ It’s about that. About having faced death. My own stupidity. And over the years it’s come to mean all kinds of things. Facing the dark place inside me that drives the kink. Trying to learn not to fear . . . anything. It’s a process. Life is a process. I didn’t know until you came back into my life that you—us being together—was a part of it. Not that we’re evil, of course, but that I perceived being close to you as an evil because I was afraid to do it. I don’t know, it doesn’t translate directly. Am I making any sense?”
“Yes. I think so.”
He went back to lean against the tile counter and closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Back to the accident. I don’t know if you understand what it’s like to have the reputation of generations before you to live up to. It’s not a conscious expectation, but it’s there all the same. It’s almost genetic in my family. We always knew exactly what we’d do with our lives, my brothers and I. There was no question. We were all a little bad, the Reid kids, but everyone fell into line when it was time to get serious about becoming a firefighter. Except me. I took it too far. Far enough that there was no coming back. And that ended everything for me.
“I was nothing but a walking—barely—black mood for a good year after. Jamie helped me with that. I think he was just glad not to have lost another friend. He was still pretty fucked up about Brandon when I went and wrapped my fucking motorcycle around that tree. It was a shitty thing to do to him. To my mother . . . Christ.” He shook his head, his gray eyes going dark. “I remember thinking I was glad you weren’t around to see it. By the time I saw you again, I’d convinced myself I was over it. Which really means I’d stuffed it way down deep. But it was always lurking under the surface, waiting to come out in some ugly way.”
She knew she should say something, murmur some words of encouragement, but all she could do was nod for him to continue. It hurt like hell to hear it all. To hear in detail what he’d gone through. Hadn’t she been asking him to tell her this? But it was almost too hard now, when it felt as if an ocean lay between them—a distance she felt she had to maintain. Her fingers flexed in her lap.
He ran a hand over his hair. “That’s when the fighting started. Just the sparring at the gym at first, but it wasn’t long before I found the underground fight circuit. Easy enough to find if you’re really looking for it, especially in a city like New Orleans. You came back to town after I’d had my first few fights, which is the only reason I even dared to be with you—because the fighting was there to help me burn off some of the anger and the guilt. The only reason I had to believe I could keep my shit together around you. But I couldn’t. Not with you. And I’ve always regretted it.”
“Mick, I wanted you so badly that night. I thought we might . . . I thought it could be a new start for us.”
“So did I.”
“But . . .” She was flabbergasted.
“I couldn’t control myself, Allie. I thought you were crying because I’d fucking hurt you. Because you thought I was some kind of monster. I couldn’t face you. I was a Goddamn coward. It’s taken me all these years to forgive myself for that. And the only way I could even begin to was the first time I had you under my hands when you came back to New Orleans. When you forced me to begin to see you as you were—the kink and the purity all wrapped up together. It’s slowly been forcing me to see these things we do as they should be seen. As I should have seen it all along—as something beautiful in itself. As something that’s only warped by our own motivation. Mine hasn’t been clean because I’ve been bringing in all this wreckage from my past. I haven’t come to it from the right place—from a clean place—until I came from a place of love. Don’t you see? You’re my redemption.”
“God, Mick, please don’t say that.” The tears welled again. One slipped down her cheek.
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“It’s not. I manipulated you. I had no right—”
“You did. But you did it because you loved me.”
“Is love supposed to excuse anything?”
“Not anything, maybe. But sometimes. It was sure as hell the right reason to bulldog me into being with you.”
She had to smile a little through the tears then. “I did bulldog you, didn’t I?”
“You are not a woman to be messed with,” he told her, moving closer, one corner of his mouth quirking for a moment before sobering once more. “I’m sorry I ever did, Allie. I’m sorry I couldn’t just love you. But I do now. I love you so damn much I don’t know how to exist without you. These last few days have been hell.”
“For me, too, Mick. I was arguing with myself the whole time. Trying to stay away because I felt I had to. But knowing you were hurt . . .” She had to stop, a sob catching in her throat.
“Baby, don’t cry.”
His arms went around her, and he lifted her to her feet so he could hold her close. Nothing had ever felt better to her in her life. But she couldn’t stop the tears.
“Hey,” he said again, his voice gentle. “I’m right here, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to. Is that why you’re crying? Because you want this over?”
Her heart was going to break. “Stop it, Mick. Don’t say that to me. I can’t take it.”
“Then tell me what this means,” he said quietly. “Tell me.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and looked up into his beautiful gray eyes—the eyes of the man she’d loved her whole life.
“It means I want to be with you. It means I love you so damn much I don’t even know where to begin. It means you can be an idiot sometimes, and I’m damn glad you see it, but if you ever end up in the hospital again I’m going to kill you, Mick Reid!”
He laughed as his arms tightened around her until she could barely breathe. “Remind me never to fuck with you.”
“Oh, I will.”
His face went still as he looked at her, as they both let love tremble through them, between them. He inched closer until she could feel his breath on her lips. She tilted her chin.
“I’m gonna kiss you, Allie,” he whispered against her mouth.
She nodded. “Yes you are.”
He pulled her up on her toes as he lowered his mouth to hers. Just a sweet press of his lush lips, then harder until she felt that familiar sense of command that was the Dom in him. She gave herself over to it, to him. She couldn’t help herself. Any remaining argument she might have had emptied from her mind. All that was left was what was in her heart, and the heat blazing between them.
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, and she loved the hard muscle there. Then down his strong arms to where they were clasped behind her back.
He kept kissing her as their bodies went hot, then hotter, desire and emotion blending together. It was all one thing—it was all just need for him.