8. Mick
CHAPTER EIGHT
MICK
The light in my bedroom is thin and gray, like the typical Seattle morning. I don't mind. Mia is a warm, solid weight against my side, her breathing the only rhythm that matters.
She’s tangled in my sheets, dark hair spilled across my pillow like a wild, beautiful mess. She looks younger when she’s sleeping. I trace the line of her shoulder with my eyes, careful not to move. I don’t want to break the spell.
It hits me then. It’s not the sudden, lightning-strike kind of realization—it’s more like a slow thaw. I’ve been in love with Mia Wells since the first time she called me Micky Boy. I just refused to admit it until I saw her sleeping in my bed, looking like she fucking belongs here.
I make a silent vow right there, watching the dust motes dance in the dim light. I’m never letting her go. I’m done playing the Neutral Zone. I’ve claimed her, and I’m keeping her.
Mia stirs, a small sound catching in her throat. Her eyes flutter open, that deep blue still hazy with sleep. When she sees me, she doesn't pull away. She smiles, and I feel my heart do something stupid and erratic that has nothing to do with cardio.
"Morning," she mumbles, her voice sleep-roughened and far too sexy for this time of the morning.
"Morning, trouble." I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She stretches, the motion pulling the sheet down just enough to remind me exactly what’s underneath. "Urgh. Please don’t tell me you’re a freaking morning person."
I chuckle; the vibration rumbled deep in my chest. "You’ll get used to it."
“I seriously doubt that.” She grumbles and snuggles deeper into the covers.
I slide my arms under her, lifting her like she weighs nothing. She squeaks, her hands instinctively flying to my neck, her eyes wide.
"Mick! What are you doing?"
"Taking care of my girl," I say, carrying her toward the master bath. "You’re stiff. I’m stiff. We need a nice hot shower to loosen things up." I wink down at her and she rolls her eyes at me.
I set her down in the oversized walk-in shower and turn the handle. The water hisses and steam fills the large bathroom.
I step in with her, the spray hitting my back. I pull her flush against me, my hands finding her waist. She’s so small compared to me, so delicate, but she fits in the hollows of my body like she was carved specifically for the space.
"You're being very attentive," she whispers, her back to my chest as the water slicks her hair down.
"I'm being thorough," I correct, my hands sliding up to her tits. I palm the heavy, soft weight of them, my thumbs brushing over her nipples until they’re tight peaks against my skin. "I told you last night. I'm not just here for the fun parts."
She leans her head back against my shoulder, a soft moan escaping her. "This feels like a fun part."
"It's the best part," I groan, turning her around in my arms. I want to see her face. I want to see those blue eyes go dark with what I'm about to do to her.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist instantly. She’s soaking wet, her skin glistening under the recessed lights, and she looks like a goddamn dream. I back her against the cold tile, the contrast of the chilled stone and the hot water making her gasp.
"Mick," she breathes, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
"I've got you," I mutter, my mouth finding the sensitive skin of her neck. I bite, just hard enough to leave a mark. "You're mine, Mia. You hear me?"
"Yes," she gasps, her hips arching into mine. "And you’re mine." Goddamn. I’ve been hers since the first moment we met.
I don't wait. I can't. The need for her is a physical ache, a pressure in my chest that only she can relieve. I guide my cock to her entrance, finding her already slick and ready for me. I thrust upward, one deep, sliding motion that fills her completely.
She cries out, her head snapping back as she grips my hair. "You feel so good."
"You're so tight," I growl, beginning to move. I keep the pace slow at first, agonizingly deep, feeling every inch of her clenching around me. The steam is thick now, the air heavy with the scent of my sandalwood soap and Mia’s delicate fragrance.
I watch her as I fuck her. I watch the way her tits bounce with every thrust, the way her lips part as she groans my name.
I pick up the pace, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. I’m not just looking for a release; I’m looking for a way to get closer, to somehow merge our skin until there’s no line where I end and she begins.
"Look at me, Mia," I command.
She opens her eyes, her pupils blown so wide the blue is just a thin, vibrating rim. I see the desire and beneath it, an absolute, shattering trust.
I slam into her, hard and fast, my hands digging into her ass to hold her to me. She’s screaming my name now, her body beginning to tremble with the first waves of her climax. Her pussy clamps down on my cock, a rhythmic, milking pressure that nearly sends me over the edge.
"Come for me," I hiss, fighting to come. "Give it all to me."
She shudders, her entire body racking with a violent, beautiful orgasm. I hold her through it, pounding into her until I can't hold back any longer. I explode inside her, a hot, pulsing release that leaves me shaking and lightheaded.
We stay like that for a long time, the water beating against us, our hearts racing in a frantic, shared tempo. I slowly lower her feet back to the floor, but I don't let her go. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, the steam swirling around us.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her face is flushed, her hair a wet tangle, and she’s never looked more beautiful. The weight of what I’m feeling is too heavy to keep inside anymore. The jokes, the banter, the protective walls—they’re not enough.
I lean in, my forehead resting against hers. "Mia," I whisper, my voice thick.
She looks up, sensing the shift in the air. The humor is gone. This isn't a locker-room boast or a tactical move.
"I love you," I say, the words landing with a finality that shakes me. "I love you so much it scares the shit out of me."
The silence that follows is filled only by the hiss of the shower. I hold my breath, waiting for the rejection, for the logical reason why this can't work.
Instead, Mia smiles. It’s not a smirk or a polite curve of the lips. It’s a bright, genuine, soul-deep smile that confirms her feelings and tells me everything I need to know about our future.
She doesn't say it back yet, not with words, but the way she tucks her face into the crook of my neck and exhales a long, shaky breath tells me she's not running.
Her fingers, still damp and pruning from the water, trace the line of my jaw before anchoring in the hair at the nape of my neck.
I feel her heart slowing against mine, its rhythm smoothing out into something stable and sure.
The steam is still thick, a warm cocoon that makes the rest of the world feel like a distant, unimportant rumor.
Right now, there are no scouts, no trade deadlines, and no emergency room rotations.
There is just this--the heavy, humid heat and the woman who finally decided to let me win.
"You're terrifying, Mick McLinden," she whispers into my skin, her voice muffled by the spray. "And somewhere along the way, you stole my freaking heart."
"And I’m fucking keeping it," I murmur, pulling her tighter. I can't seem to get her close enough. Every time I think I've got her pinned, I want more. I want to absorb her.
I reach over and finally turn off the water.
The sudden silence is jarring, punctuated only by the heavy drips falling from the shower head and the sound of our mingled breathing.
I grab a towel from the rack just outside the glass door and start drying her off, moving with a deliberate, slow reverence.
I dry her arms, her back, the curve of her hips, watching the way her skin flushes under my touch.
She watches me back, her expression open in a way I've never seen before.
The armor is truly off, and the sight of her vulnerability makes that protective instinct in my gut roar to life.
I have to touch her. I cup her jaw, sweeping my thumb across her cheekbone.
She's watching me so damn close, like I'm a complicated equation she can't quite solve.
God help me, I want her looking at me like that for the rest of my fucking life.
She doesn't say a word, just grins and reaches for the towel, wrapping it around herself like it’s armor. I grab my own towel and do a pass over my hair, then her hair, because apparently, I’m one of those guys now. The kind who fusses.
She snorts at me. I ignore it and keep drying her off. Her hair’s still damp and wild, curling at her temples and clinging to her cheeks. I want to bury my face in it and never come up for air.
She steps out of the shower, but I catch her around the waist like she’s about to make a run for it. Nope. Not letting her go.
I pull her close and nuzzle into her neck. Can’t help it. She smells like lavender, my soap, and something sweet that's all her. It’s fucking addictive.
"Got plans today?" I ask, voice gone rough. Don’t even try to play it cool.
She turns, blue eyes so clear it nearly floors me. "Yeah," she says. "I'm spending it with you."
I think my heart straight-up forgets how to beat. I stare down at her, this tiny spitfire wrapped in my towel, and every cell in my body sings a fucking national anthem just for her.
"That's the right answer," I tell her. I get cocky and crowd her toward the double sink, my hands bracketing her hips, possessive as hell.
She just grins back, a little wicked. "Don’t let it go to your head."
Too late.
I drag her closer, pinning her to the counter, and kiss her until she’s groaning into my mouth. That’s my new favorite sound. Top ten all-time life highlights.