by Nikki Winter
Nala rolled through the gates after typing in the code and headed for Mackenzie’s street. “I don’t know,” she gritted out.
Mackenzie drummed her fingers across the dashboard and regarded her friend carefully. “You don’t know?”
“Those were my exact words, were they not?”
She smirked as they pulled to a stop in front of Mackenzie’s home. “Oh, sweet girl, I think you do. I think you know very well.”
“Mac.”
“That young, recently made millionaire, caught a glimpse of you and the famous pout—“
“Mac.”
“—And decided that he just had to know if it was as talented as it looked. But that isn’t what concerns you, is it, dear friend? No, you’re bothered by your clear lack of resistance to his machismo.”
“Out of my car, demoness!” Nala shouted, pointing a finger towards the passenger side door. “I cast you out!”
Laughing, Mackenzie grabbed her things and made her exit, leaning down in the window to ask, “What’s the French word for biscuit?”
Nala sped off with her finger in the air, leaving Mackenzie to chuckle all the way up to her front door. She pulled up short at the sight of rose petals littering the cobblestone pathway. A closer stare revealed small drops of…blood?
She went to put her key into the door, but before she could even twist the knob, the heavy wood was swinging open. Raising her eyes, she found Ashleigh hovering in the foyer, his face set hard.
Mackenzie swallowed and eyed him, seeing nothing strange aside from his change of clothing. “Er…hi?”
“Hi.”
They stood there, regarding one another for a few seconds longer. “Everything okay?” Mackenzie finally asked when she couldn’t take the stretch of silence anymore.
His expression softened a fraction and he finally stepped back, moving so that she could come forward and close the door behind herself. She pressed her shoulders against it, waiting.
Ashleigh squinted at her. “If I were to hypothetically inform you that I arrived here a few hours ago to find Frost comfortably seated on your porch—”
She closed her eyes and shook her head a bit. “God in heaven.”
“—And we hypothetically had an exchange of words that led to me taking him by the back of his head and slamming his face into one of the posts outside—”
Mackenzie cringed. “This is spiraling. Right now. It’s spiraling.”
“—Before I hypothetically used my hold, and his own weight, to sling him off of your porch, all the while yelling things that could be misconstrued as terroristic threats by certain legal officials—”
Holding up both of her hands, she told him, “Quiet. Just…quiet.”
He stopped.
Using her thumb and forefinger, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and queried, “Did any of my neighbors see you?”
Ashleigh regarded her and volunteered, “It wasn’t an ego thing, plums.”
She dropped her hand and looked at him, really looked at him. His shoulders had lost all strain and he appeared a little…tired. “Then tell me what it was,” Mackenzie requested gently. “What could he have possibly said that made you want to abuse his face?”
His throat worked as he swallowed and rocked back on his heels slightly. He mumbled something unintelligible.
“Ashleigh?”
Facing her fully now, he ground out, “That twat tank actually opened his mouth and called you leftovers. Overheated. Twice used. Leftovers.” His eyes slammed shut and his whole body shuddered as though resisting the urge to strike again. “All he received for his commentary was a broken nose, a possibly fractured collarbone, and a few bruised ribs.”
“All he received? I don’t even want to begin to ask what your idea of a full battery charge would have been.”
He gazed at her through his lashes. “He was on property that doesn’t belong to him, insisting that he see a woman uninterested in speaking to him and refusing to leave when asked—more than a few times, I might add. Therefore, there will be no battery charges. He should be happy with the realization that it could have been much, much worse.” Ashleigh took several steps forward, crowding her into the door. “He didn’t seem to appreciate it; kept moaning about his face and his chest. I would have broken his hands also, but I knew he’d need to get to the nearest E.R. or at the very least, whatever hole he'd slithered out of.”
Mackenzie bit the inside of her cheek and ventured asking, “Why his hands?”
Ashleigh’s metallic eyes narrowed and he leaned forward to box her in. “Because he touched you.”
Her lashes fluttered. “That’s unreasonable.”
He scowled. “I don’t care. I don’t care how backwards or barbarian it may be. As I was standing there, looking down at his smug, thin, pale little face, I suddenly realized that my disgust for him was only exacerbated by the knowledge that he’d had his hands on you.” Snarling, he sucked in a deep breath and his chest brushed across hers. “And I couldn’t blame him. I left you free and clear. I stayed away. I ignored every basic impulse that told me no one else had the right to see what I’ve seen and do what I’ve done with you. But,” Ashleigh continued, his voice dropping to a timbre that made her quiver. “We don’t need to be particularly concerned with that happening again, now do we, plums?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Because of flags and the like, correct?”
She nodded.
“Excellent,” Ashleigh proclaimed. Without warning, he spun her towards the door and placed her palms against it. “Keep them there.”
“Um…Ash?”
Her skirt lifted and a large, enthusiastic palm clapped down on her ass. Mackenzie arched away with a hiss, the sting of the unexpected hit turning her nipples into diamonds.
“Yes, darlin’?” he answered mildly.
“Would you like to talk about your feelings of brutal possessiveness or…?”
“If you don’t mind,” he stated, rubbing the now tender area of her buttocks. “I’d much rather make you scream until those feelings of brutal possessiveness subside.” Ashleigh’s hand came down again and the action was met with a gasp. “Objections?”
Mackenzie mulled over that for all of three seconds before she murmured, “No.”
She leaned back into him, giving him the access he needed to unbutton her blouse. When it was open, he tugged it from the band of her high-waisted skirt and pushed it down her arms. The garment hit the floor and she kicked it away, reaching for her skirt next.
He took her hands and slammed them back onto the door. “Leave the skirt.”
She locked her knees to keep from sinking to the floor. Ashleigh pressed himself fully against her back and rested his chin atop her shoulder while his fingers danced past her cleavage and down to her belly. He reached her waist and cocked her hip the way he wanted her. It wasn’t long before she felt the prodding length of him sliding against her slit. He didn’t penetrate her, just held her there, gliding back and forth. Each thrust brushed the plump knot of nerves that had swelled as soon as Ashleigh backed her up into the door. Mackenzie’s breaths turned choppy and hard.
“Ashleigh…”
“I know,” he whispered roughly. “Not yet.”
She moved against him diligently, chasing the stream of pleasure that came with every stroke. The orgasm was so close. Just hovering and waiting to rush up like a pot of unattended water on the stove. Mackenzie could feel the boil over rising, pushing at the lid. She balled her hands and pressed her forehead to the door. “Ashleigh…”
“Coming?”
“Yes.”
He grunted, dipped behind her just an inch or so and slammed into her. The climax smashed down like fist and her head went back. A sound caught between a scream and a yelp echoed around the foyer. Ashleigh never lost his rhythm. The knock of his sex went from lazy to persistent in seconds. Another orgasm, one stronger than the first, trucked down the path at a quicker speed. Mackenzie’s hands opened and slapped the w
ood beneath them as she ground back into the steady drive of his hips. It wasn’t long before her back bowed and the air left her lungs in a whoosh.
When the proverbial smoke cleared, she heard Ashleigh ask something that made her heart and her stomach meet in a tangle. “What did you just say?” Mackenzie questioned for clarification.
“Marry me?”
Okay. Right. That had been what he'd said.
She cleared her throat and gently nudged him with her hips until he took the hint and withdrew, backing away. Mackenzie slid her skirt back to its appropriate place and spun around. Ashleigh was fixing his sweats and fishing something out of his pocket. Holding his hand out, he revealed a small box from a local, but widely popular, jewelry store known for its quality pieces and celebrity endorsements.
Ashleigh motioned for her to take it and with shaking hands, she did. What she found nestled inside was absolutely beautiful. An obscenely large, plum colored, princess cut stone had been placed into a platinum setting and surrounded by smaller diamonds that wrapped around it in a crisscross pattern before flowing down into the band itself. It was…gorgeous. Insanely. Wonderfully. Gorgeous.
“I would have had it sooner but their labs took longer than expected to create the diamond and color it properly,” he explained in a sotto voice. “This is the ring you should have had. The one that you deserved. The one that I hope you’ll wear for the rest of our lives.”
Mackenzie rubbed her thumb over the smooth, flawless stone and swallowed. She then closed the box and forced herself to say something that tasted bitter on her tongue. “No.”
All the dazed desire from moments ago disappeared from Ashleigh’s stare and his face fell. “No?”
“Listen to me,” she said, walking forward and grasping one of his hands before he could turn away from her. “Listen.” He stopped but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t think I could want anything else as much as I want to be your wife. I don’t think I have room enough to love anything else the way that I love you, because you take up so much space already.” Mackenzie lifted the hand she held and pressed it to her chest. “You are it for me, Ashleigh Nathan Thyne. You’re. It.”
Some of the tension melted from him and he finally allowed his gaze to drift back to her own.
“But we’ve only just found our way back to each other again,” she went on to explain. “I see so much in you. So many changes. So many things that stretch what I feel beyond the farthest reach of my control. I want to get to know this person again, learn him. I want you to get to know me again, learn me. To do that, we have to start over; we have to solve the puzzle of our careers and Arista’s life. Three years, although it may not seem like it, is a lengthy amount of time. And as much as I would love to take this ring, I can’t. Because I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to condense it into a byproduct of all the progress we’ve managed to make. I don’t want us to ride this obvious wave of emotion and find ourselves crashing. Does that make sense?”
He seemed to be searching her face. Looking for what, she didn’t know. But when he surrendered without a word of protest, Mackenzie knew that he’d found it.
Ashleigh touched her cheek with the same reverence that she’d touched the ring and questioned, “What would you like for me to do?”
She could think of no other response when she nuzzled his hand and answered, “Stay.”
Epilogue
Two years later…
"Mooommmyyy.”
Mackenzie tightened her lids and slapped around to the left of her until she hit what she was looking for.
“Ow.”
“Your child needs food,” she announced, ignoring Ashleigh’s whining. “Make it happen.”
“Funny,” he grumbled, turning on their bed. “I distinctly recall hearing the sound of your name and not mine.”
Mackenzie pushed up from the mattress and cut her eyes in his direction. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Lifting his arm from where it rested over his forehead, he gave her a distinctly false grin and said, “Nothing, sweetheart. I said absolutely nothing.”
She grunted and burrowed under the covers again. As he got out of bed, she could hear him muttering about Arista possibly needing a personal chef and Mackenzie’s lack of sympathy.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she teased from her cozy position. “Can’t find any good panties?”
“Boxer,”—he abruptly stopped his correction and glared at her. “Over my knee, Mackenzie,” Ashleigh growled in warning. “Over. My. Knee.”
Squeaking, she pulled the comforter up and over her head, sticking her tongue out in secret at his satisfied chuckle. As she listened to him amble about their bathroom, while Arista stood on the other side of their door counting down, she realized that there would be no returning to sleep. Therefore, she sat up and pressed her feet to the floor, sitting there until she had enough strength in her legs to stand.
The water tap turned off in the bathroom and the door opened to allow Ashleigh to stroll out, a grin in place. He stopped by her side of the bed to brush a kiss across her brow. “Mornin’, plums.”
She hummed and stood. “Mornin’.”
Heading for the bathroom, she didn’t miss it when he opened the bedroom door and Arista asked the very question both parents expected to hear on the days that they didn’t wake before she did. “Food. I need it to live. Does no one understand this?”
He ushered her down the stairs while Mackenzie laughed quietly to herself and finished up her morning routine. She dressed in something comfortable, careful about the way she pulled her t-shirt over her head so that she wouldn’t damage the special chain that dropped a few inches below her clavicle, holding the engagement ring she’d wear on her finger some day soon. Once done, she padded out of the room and down the stairs of a home that had taken several months of getting used to just because of its sheer size. Debate after debate had led her and Ashleigh to finally choose an expansive waterfront property not too far from Lake Norman. He’d refused to use any of her money for what he deemed to be their place to “make all of the babies.” Ass. He was such ass. But she loved him. Because he was an ass that had adjusted the curve of his career and his life for both her and Arista.
As soon as he’d had wiggle room in his contract with Atlanta, he’d used Noel’s wife to negotiate a spot for himself on a team in North Carolina that he’d taken to without issue. Because he was local, he was out of town far less and during the instances that he had to go, he generally made room for a lengthy amount of time at home after he returned. On other occasions, Face Time was had, ridiculous text messages were exchanged, and family vacations were taken. Mackenzie was…content. There was such a beauty in sleeping next to him each night, annoying him by placing her things on his favorite side of the sink, that all of their stubborn, everyday struggles seemed so menial in the grand scheme.
Their daughter had taken each adjustment in stride, never complaining. She appeared to have gotten the most joy out of the reunion. It made Mackenzie wonder how many times her child had daydreamed about this very thing occurring the same way Mackenzie had. Ashleigh was still as intuitive and as attentive as he needed to be as a father, never missing anything that he had the power to attend and always eager to be Arista’s very own show and tell guest.
His conscientious behavior didn’t stop at Arista though. No, he seemed so determined to prove to Mackenzie that she rested at the center of it all for him. What he didn’t seem to understand was that she’d already been convinced. The man had marked her, body and soul. She wouldn’t be forgetting that. And when the time was right, she’d answer the question that had been lingering for the last two years.
Mackenzie reached the doorway of the kitchen and simply halted to take everything in. There Ashleigh was, seated beside Arista at the breakfast nook, Mackenzie’s apron commandeered for his needs while the two shared a plate of food. Her favorite mug was in its usual place on her brewing machine—which sat off on the island beneath hang
ing plants. And a seat had been left for her to take. After grabbing her mug and preparing her caffeine the way she needed it, Mackenzie got comfortable in the spot reserved for her.
Ashleigh suddenly handed her a fork and she shot him a small smile before happily going for what was on the oversized plate. It was such an easy routine, and it gave her an insane amount of pleasure.
She’d just taken a bite when Arista pushed back a bit from the table and said, “So Papa Bear told me that now you’re definitely planning to make all of the babies.”
Mackenzie sputtered and her child placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Timeframe?” the little girl demanded in much the same way she asked about breakfast.
Dislodging the food from her windpipe, Mackenzie raised her eyes to Ashleigh.
His only response was to imitate Arista’s stance. He cocked his head as he arched both brows and asked, “Well? What’s the time frame?”
Ass. He was such and ass!
The End
More about the Author
When Nikki wrote her first story in the tenth grade with the help of a pen, three packs of correction tape and a small, completely non-creepy obsession with cowboys, she knew she was destined for greatness. Now if she could just convince everyone else...
Her days were spent guarding her notebooks with her life, and her nights were spent continuing a love affair with insomnia. Eventually, just a bit disgusted with the traditional love story, she took a dive into the deep waters of romance with a not-so-gentle or subtle push by a beloved mentor.
These days she's taken the time to polish what she refers to as her "writing superiority." She hopes that the tales she creates will grab the reader's attention, and make them devoted slaves to her will...er, fans.
If you want to let her know just how absolutely, positively awesome she is, you can always e-mail her at [email protected], friend her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/nikkiwinter19, check out her works in progress at nikkiwinter.com, weywardthoughts.com or follow her at @Pyro_Nikki on Twitter.