by Score, Lucy
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.”
“I hope your sister is wearing some souvenirs from you,” Linc said darkly.
“I broke her nose. Yours isn’t, by the way.”
“That’s because my cartilage is much stronger than Luke’s pansy-assed fist.”
“Your entire face is turning purple.”
“Let’s get back to this asshole sister of yours.”
Mack wanted to curl up against him. To press her face to his chest and let his warmth thaw her out. But this was the kind of conversation that required eye contact.
“She’s older by a few years. We’ve never been close. We’ve never gotten along. She’s always been…not right.” She picked at a thread on the comforter. “It’s not a surprise. Our mother is an alcoholic who bounced from man to man and dead-end job to dead-end job. We were never in the same place very long. Rent didn’t get paid. Electricity got shut off. Or Andrea—my mother—met someone else. Someone who’d take care of her.
“Sometimes she’d just disappear for a day or two, and then she’d crawl home in dirty clothes and smeared makeup smelling like smoke and men. Once when I was six, she didn’t come home from work.”
Linc’s hand slid around her ankle and squeezed.
“My sister, Wendy, didn’t like that I was complaining about being hungry. So she locked me in my room. No food. No water. Storms came through and knocked the power out. It was August in Texas and so hot. No fan. No air conditioning. No water. I waited and waited and finally I couldn’t wait anymore. So I pushed the screen out, and I jumped from the second-story window.”
He swore colorfully.
“The next-door neighbor heard me crying. I’d broken my ankle. But I was so happy I was finally free. The hospital had air-conditioning and food and all the water I wanted. The doctor was so nice to me.” She smiled, remembering him. “Dr. Vishnu. Thick glasses, no hair. His accent sounded like music to me.”
“How long were you locked in your room?”
“Two days.”
Linc’s free hand fisted at his side.
“When the power went out, Wendy went to a friend’s house. She was swimming in their pool while I was in an ambulance.”
“She’s a fucking monster.”
“She was a kid raised by a narcissistic alcoholic.”
“Baby, you were, too. It’s no excuse.”
“It is no excuse. She lied to the police and said that Mom had just gone to the store and that I tried to run away.”
“But they didn’t buy it?”
“My mom didn’t come home for another two days. And she didn’t have a good enough explanation for why the lock on my bedroom door was on the outside. They took both of us away from her. It wasn’t long enough for me. My foster parents—that’s who’s coming for Thanksgiving—were wonderful. Normal. Kind. Loving. I cried when I had to go back. Andrea showed up in court in a pink suit like she’d just come from the country club or something and cried about how she’d made a mistake, she had an illness. She said she attended AA meetings every day for eight weeks. She brought her sponsor. He told the court that she was sober and contrite and willing to do anything to get her kids back.”
“Sponsor meaning her new boyfriend?” he guessed.
“Got it in one. The social worker dropped me off at the house, and within ten minutes, we were packed up and heading north. Left the house, the new boyfriend, and the judge’s ruling to check in with a court-appointed social worker,” she recalled. “She blamed me. She was embarrassed by all the legal fuss. It didn’t make her look good. It was just another reason for Wendy to hate me.”
“What happened after?”
“More of the same. We bounced around while Andrea looked for the perfect man or job. Wendy was still awful. Not necessarily as bad as locking me up alone for forty-eight hours. But unhealthy. She’d steal money out of Andrea’s purse and blame me. She’d hide things in my room like a dead bird or the tennis bracelet a boyfriend gave Andrea. Once, she pushed me down the stairs.”
Linc closed his eyes. His jaw was tight.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not some victim,” she said sharply.
She wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor.
When he opened his eyes, the blue was blazing. “I can feel sorry for the little girl who didn’t have a hero,” he said. “And I can also struggle with the fact that I’d love to have shoved your sister down the stairs.”
Mack smirked.
“When I turned twelve, I was starting to get taller. I hit a growth spurt right around the time we did a self-defense session in gym class. I soaked it up like a sponge. The teacher gave me extra time after school. Looking back, I think she’d seen the bruises, had some suspicions. The next time Wendy tried to mess with me in front of her friends, I threw her on her back. They thought it was hilarious. It made her hate me more, but at least she knew I wasn’t going to just take it anymore.”
“How did you survive?” he asked. He reached to pull her into his side, but she held back.
“There’s more you need to hear first.”
“I’m listening.” His fingers interlaced with hers.
“Wendy turned from a bad kid into a worse teen. She shoplifted, dabbled in drugs, bullied people, stole things one too many times. She got picked up for I don’t even remember what now and was sent to juvenile hall. I still remember watching her leave. It was, to that point, the best day of my life.”
“Mackenzie.” He hurt for her. She could hear it in his voice. The man who’d grown up knowing nothing but the good of family and love.
“Anyway, when she got out, she was technically an adult and never came home to live again. As soon as I had my high school diploma, I was gone. I worked my way through college—pre-med, inspired by the nice doctor who fixed my ankle—and then med school. I stayed in Texas when I really wanted distance. But all Andrea had then was me. And I felt responsible for her. I still did until recently.”
“You sent her money?” Linc asked.
Mack nodded, embarrassed now. “I did. Every month like clockwork. It’s over now. I don’t owe her anything anymore.”
“Baby, you never did. You didn’t ask to be born. You didn’t ask her to be your mother.”
He tried to pull her down again.
“Oh, there’s more,” she sighed.
“I don’t want to rush you, but there’s only so much of you sitting there looking so sad that I can take, Dreamy. I need to hold you.”
She took a breath, let it out. “Okay, here goes. I was doing my residency in an emergency department in Dallas. Wendy and our mom had made up again. They were living together in this shitty little apartment where Andrea drank bottles of cheap gin and Wendy did God knows what drugs. Wendy had a boyfriend.”
Mack pulled out of Linc’s grasp and leaned over the side of the bed. She found the sketchpad in the nightstand and flipped to the last drawing.
“That’s him. Powell Coleman III. He had a Mustang and a trust fund. He also had a pretty serious drug problem. My sister, of course, found the whole package very attractive. I never met him. Not until the night he was wheeled into the ED on my shift.”
Linc stared hard at the portrait.
“He looks like a dickhead,” he said finally.
“Well, the dickhead took his Mustang with my sister in the passenger seat and drove into a concrete barrier at a high rate of speed. He’d also taken what turned out to be a lethal dose of heroin. I did everything I could, but I couldn’t save him.”
“Some people you can’t save, Dreamy,” he said, reaching up to tuck her damp hair behind her ear. “And you know that.”<
br />
“I know that now. And I think I knew it then. But I had to go out to the waiting room and tell her. Tell my sister that Powell Coleman III was never going to take her for a ride again. She attacked me. She was screaming and crying. Shouting that I’d murdered him. I killed her boyfriend, and she was going to kill me.”
“Mackenzie?”
“Yeah?”
“I fucking hate your sister.”
Mack was surprised when she felt the laugh bubble up. She let it fill up all the empty space inside her, let it carry her over into Linc’s warm, solid side. There was something so reassuring to her about the fact that his cock beneath the white terrycloth was still hard. He still wanted her.
“I’m not a fan either. She sued me.”
He stiffened against her. “You’re shitting me.”
She smiled, her mouth curving against his chest. “Nope. Found a shady lawyer. Named me personally and the hospital in a lawsuit.”
“She lost,” he said confidently.
“She did,” she said. “But I still paid her. I gave her everything I had in savings. I’d been hoping to do a stint with a nonprofit that trained trauma doctors in third world countries. The pay was abysmal, but I figured I could get by on savings for a year.”
“And she took that from you.”
“Ah, but I found the National Guard. Which brought me to Aldo. Which brought me to you.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I love you, Dr. Mackenzie O’Neil.”
“Still?”
“Always. Now tell me what the fuck happened when you went to visit your asshole mother for the very last time ever.”
She filled him in on the details, soothed him with gentle strokes across his chest when he vibrated with the need to fight for her.
“You’re sure you broke her nose?” he asked.
“Positive. It crunched. Very satisfying.”
“Good girl.”
“Thanks for listening, Linc,” she whispered.
“Thanks for sharing.”
They were both silent for a long minute.
“So here’s what we’re going to do,” he began.
She laughed. “What’s the plan, boss?”
He levered up on an elbow to gaze down at her. “You’ve paid enough. The price was never yours in the first place.”
“You can’t ever meet them,” she said earnestly. “I know how that sounds. But I can’t stand the idea of tainting you by association.”
“Tainting me?” he scoffed.
“I don’t want you to ever associate me with them. I look like my mom.” It pained her to admit it.
“Dreamy, there is nothing of them in you. You prove that every fucking day. Now, back to what’s going to happen. They don’t ever get to see you or talk to you or communicate with you in any way. Ever,” he said quietly. “You won’t send either of them a dime ever again. If they leave you alone, I’ll leave them alone.”
Mack was suspicious. “You’re literally vibrating with rage right now, and you’re willing to promise me that you won’t do anything?”
“As long as they stay away from you, I’ll stay away from them,” he promised. “Now, how about you tell me about Dunnigan offering you the job permanently.”
Her mouth opened in an O. “Oh. That.”
“Yeah. That.”
52
They fell asleep as evening fell outside the curtained windows. Emotionally spent, they wrapped themselves around each other, a tangle of limbs and towels and comfort. He woke to dusk, to the smell of chamomile drifting up from her still-damp hair. To the honeyed heat of her body pressed against his.
His dick, achingly hard, was nestled against the soft curves of her ass. It throbbed with the primal need to claim her, protect her, love her.
She stirred against him, a sleepy sigh escaping her unpainted lips.
He loved her like this. Loved her every way she came.
“We’re going to have to talk about what comes next, Dreamy,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
When she didn’t answer, he kissed the nape of her neck, then worked his way down her spine. He paused to pay special attention to every bruise, every scrape. And every time he brushed his lips over a wound, he promised them both: never again.
She gave a thready gasp when he got to her hips and sank his teeth into one graceful curve.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mackenzie. You’re so fucking mine.”
“I love you, Linc. So much,” she whispered against the pillow.
He’d never get tired of hearing those words from that mouth.
“Dreamy, there’s no other choice. You’re it for me.”
“Thank you for still wanting me.”
It pulverized his heart for the little girl whose own mother hadn’t wanted her, whose sister hated her. But she was here with him now, and he’d spend the rest of his life erasing any doubt those monsters had given her.
He needed a ring. A plan.
She rolled over on her stomach, the smooth hills of her ass greeting him. His cock twitched with the need to conquer.
Testing her, he leaned in and brushed his lips over the curves of one spectacular cheek. Then sank his teeth into it.
She let out a breathy little gasp that had his dick going even harder.
“I love every fucking inch of you, Mackenzie,” he whispered, moving his lips over her flesh, reveling in the goosebumps that cropped up on her skin. He bit again, lower this time, where the thigh met cheek.
She shivered. “I love how you touch me.”
“How do I touch you?”
“Like you love me.”
On that soft confession, Linc parted her ass cheeks. His tongue darted out to stroke forbidden fruit. Her head came up off the pillow on a gasp, but the rest of her body remained statue still.
“Is this okay?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes. Everything you do to me is magic.”
He wanted her, every damn inch of her.
His cock throbbed an incessant SOS even as he took his time, tongue playing, mouth moving. She writhed under him. Begging for more.
With his heart in his throat, blood pounding through his veins, Linc slid his way back up her body, covering her back with his chest. His hard-on found its home at the apex of her thighs. He could feel the wet, the heat, the need.
When she rocked her ass against him, his vision began to tunnel.
“Hang on tight, Dreamy,” he said, closing her fingers around the spindles of the headboard.
He lined himself up with her opening and, in one swift thrust, buried himself inside her.
He swore. “Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick, baby.”
She groaned then cried out when he moved. It was exquisite torture, the friction, the slide.
Cupping her chin in his hand from behind, he whispered dark, dirty praise as he fucked in and out of her.
“You’re such a good girl, Mackenzie. I love feeling you get tight on my cock like you’re trying to milk the come out of me.”
“You’re so fucking dirty, Linc,” she moaned.
“I can feel how wet it gets you. How wet you get for me.”
He gave a harder thrust, pinning her hips to the mattress and holding deep. She bucked against him, and he had to take a breath. Had to fight off the need to ram himself into her over and over again until his come ran out of her and soaked into the mattress.
“Don’t hold back on me now,” she hissed.
A man only had so much control. He yanked her up onto her hands and knees. “I’ll always give you whatever you ask for,” he promised darkly. His hips snapped forward, and he buried his throbbing dick inside her. He couldn’t catch his breath. Sweat dotted his skin as he continued to thrust into her. She dropped down onto her elbows, rocking back against him.
Those sweet ass cheeks tantalized him. He brought two fingers to his mouth and licked them.
<
br /> “Hold still,” he ordered, feeling her vibrate on the tip of his cock when he pulled out. “Don’t move.”
With his wet fingers, he probed her cleft until he found that tight little rosette of muscle. “Hold tight, baby.”
In one motion, he sank his fingers into her ass at the same time that his cock entered her.
The noise that escaped her was fucking beautiful.
He fucked her with his cock and fingers. Rocking into her and taking them both right up to the edge. Again and again, he drove into her until they were both panting and trembling. Pulling back and holding still at the last second.
It wasn’t enough. He needed so much more from her.
“Baby, I need to see you.” He gritted out the words in a voice more gravel than human.
“Make me come, Linc,” she begged. “Please!”
“Not until I can see your eyes.” As carefully as he could manage, he pushed her down as he withdrew. “Roll over. That’s right, baby. Open your legs wide for me.”
He settled between her legs as their gazes locked.
“You want to come, baby?”
She nodded, and he could feel the throbbing of her need around the tip of his dick.
He held steady with one inch connecting them. “Look at me, Mackenzie.”
Her green eyes flew open.
“You belong to me. I belong to you. This is it. Understand?” He gave a teasing half thrust, giving her another inch. It drove him crazy not to be fully seated inside her. Not to feel her muscles closing around every fucking vein and ridge of his erection.
“I’m yours, Hotshot. For better or worse, I am all yours.”
It was good enough. Until he had a ring on her finger, until she said vows, this was good enough. He flexed his hips, burying himself to the balls in her. She cried out, and he held her closer, tighter. Her nails dug into his shoulders. The pain was a beautiful thing as he pummeled into her.
He could feel her muscles fluttering, knew she was close. His seed burned up from his balls, seeming to climb up his spine. Leaning in, he dipped his head to stroke the flat of his tongue over her nipple. It hardened, peaking and straining toward him.
In and out. Over and over again until there was no rhyme or reason. There was no rhythm or finesse. It was a primal, biological need to feel and see her come. He needed to give her this.