Protecting What's Mine(105)

She was strong. She wouldn’t let this hurt last. But he wanted justice. He wanted to ruin the people who’d done this to her. Who’d so stupidly, selfishly tried to hurt what he loved.

He cranked the water in the shower to just below scalding and pushed her gently under the water. The stall was so tight there was no way to not touch each other. He didn’t even try to give her space, running his hands over her body, reassuring himself that she was okay. She was here.

“Let me,” he said, taking the bottle from her. Her shampoo smelled like flowers and herbs when he squirted some into his palm. As gently as he could, he massaged it into her hair, rubbing her scalp in slow circles.

She sighed, bracing her hands on the wall in front of them, her back to his front. His cock had thoughts about her wet, naked body sliding over his. Enthusiastic ones. But Linc wasn’t going to let anything derail him from what he needed to do, to say.

Mackenzie turned in his arms. Her nipples puckered as they skimmed his chest. Goosebumps rose on her arms at the contact. “I’ll do you,” she offered.

Wordlessly, he handed her the shampoo and knelt before her. He rested his face between her breasts while her hands worked gently through his hair. Her touch, the soft curves of her breasts, the steady beat of her heart soothed away some of his rough edges.

He pressed a kiss to her heart and heard her shaky breath.

She tilted his chin to get a better look at his face. “I need my kit,” she said, prodding around the cut on his forehead. “I’ll fix you up good as new.” Then in a gesture so pure, so sweet, it broke his dented heart, she brushed her lips to the cut.

“I love you, Mackenzie.”





51





Mack’s heart tripped in her chest.

“I love you,” Linc said again, pressing a kiss to her belly, his hands splaying across her back, her ribs, holding her in place, keeping her safe.

She wanted to laugh and cry and settled for a little of both, hugging him to her.

He rose carefully, still holding her, and turned off the water.

“Let’s have that talk,” she said, reaching for one of the fluffy towels on the hook.

“No matter what you’re going to say, Dreamy, I’ll still love you,” he said, accepting the towel she handed him.

“I guess we’ll see,” she said quietly.

He followed her into the bedroom and let her push him down on the mattress. “Stay,” she said and disappeared downstairs to grab her med bag at the door.

She returned to find him sprawled out against the pillows, taking up most of the entire bed. Those blue eyes opened when she entered, and she felt the beginnings of a hope so fierce she was afraid of it.

“It takes me a while to process things,” she began, settling next to him and opening her bag. “To get comfortable with them.”

He closed his fingers around her wrist when she moved in with an antiseptic swab. “It’s okay. I’ll just keep telling you until you catch up, Dreamy. I love you. I’ve never said it to anyone outside my family. Well, maybe Brody. But I’ve never said it to anyone this way. I love you. I’ve loved you. I will continue to love you, and I really, really need you to stay, or if you don’t want to stay, I’ll go with you. But I’ll keep telling you until you’re ready.”

She felt her lips curve. “That’s not what I mean. I love you, Linc. I’ve known since—”

But her words were cut off when he surged up and kissed her. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, his lips hard against hers. And then his tongue was sweeping into her mouth, gently, firmly laying his claim. She melted into the kiss. Basking, warming, hoping.

But there was more he needed to know. She drew back.

“The cookout.”

“The cookout?” he repeated, then hissed when she sneakily pressed the alcohol swab to his cut.

“When you swooped in here with grocery store flowers and ingredients for dip and gave your dog a bath with the hose. I’ve known since that moment that I loved you, and I’m just now working up the nerve to tell you.” She leaned in and blew on the wound.

“Well, how about you work up the nerve to tell me the rest of the story, and then we can spend the rest of the day making up?” he suggested.

“I hope you’ll still want that, want me…after.” She looked away, organizing her supplies on the comforter.

“Dreamy, have you ever run a puppy mill operation?”

She looked up, shook her head.

“Ever purposely murdered a bunch of my family members?”

“Not to my knowledge.” She smiled as she dabbed Neosporin on his wound.

“Have you ever thrown a bag of fast food trash out of your car window because you were too lazy to find a trash can?”

“God! No!” She pressed the butterfly bandage in place.

“Then nothing you say is going to change how I feel about you.”

She wanted to believe him but was too afraid to hope.

“Here,” she said, handing him two ice packs. “I’m not sure where you’ll want these because it looks like you got your entire face punched.”

“You should see the other guy,” he said, settling one pack on his jaw and the other on his eye.

“Speaking of. I have a sister, and I told you I didn’t.”