other overt injuries. The elevator doors slid open and they
walked the few feet to his home without further discussion, his hand set
possessively in the small of her back.
“Come to the bathroom, Michael. Let me take
care of you.”
* * *
*
Michael wanted to bellow. He wanted to shout. He wanted to throw McKenzie
to the floor and fuck her across it as a victory statement. Feeling nothing
less than a victorious warrior or maybe a bull who’d won the right to take his
female. Hell, he didn’t know. But he did know he’d better not make the wrong
choice this time around. He obediently followed his woman to the powder room,
sitting on the closed toilet seat at her urging. Little hands swiftly
unbuttoned his shirt with remembered dexterity and pulled it down his arms and
off, dropping the blood dappled fabric to the floor. McKenzie’s face was
swollen from crying and tear stained. His inner sadist surprisingly took a
backseat once again when normally her tears were so arousing. His woman knelt
to examine what now felt like a thousand ice picks drilling into his side,
gently prodding his ribs, asking him to take deep breaths. Those only felt like
thumping agonies, not the shards of pain she kept asking about.
“I don’t think your ribs are cracked or broken. But they’re going to
ache for a while. I’ll wrap them for you.”
Michael wondered if McKenzie would mind using those clever fingers
to release his aching cock, and if she might then want to kiss it better before
getting got up from her knees, but kept his mouth shut, schooling his features
into what he hoped was a manly, stoic look. In truth, all the cuts and bruises
were now making their presence known as the adrenaline faded, and while his ego
rejoiced at how he’d handled himself in his very first street fight, Michael kind of
wished cooler heads had prevailed.
McKenzie gently wiped the blood from his face with warm cloths
before efficiently cleaning all the cuts with the peroxide from the medicine
cabinet. She anointed them with topical antibiotic afterwards, hustling to the
kitchen to make up an ice pack for his eye that was swelling to match his
bottom lip. When she returned her face was different. Michael could read hope and
a hint of joy. His sub was back.
“What?”
“The birds. They’re still here.”
God, what an absolute prick he’d been. “I needed to punish you, fuck
with your head, McKenzie.” He stopped right there. He promised to be nothing
but open and honest and not fuck things up again. Taking a deep breath he made
the first attempt to put everything into words.
“I was trying to deny my true feelings for you and pushed you away.
I was fighting the inevitable. I’m sorry it took me so long to give up that
particular fight.”
McKenzie bit her lip and concentrated on placing the ice pack just
so, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. She yanked a tensor bandage from its box and
carefully bound up his aching ribs. And then there was nothing left for her to
do. She eased away to lean her back against the wall.
Michael knew she took that stance to avoid sinking to her knees. The
connection between them hadn’t lessened at all. If only he could come up with
something to say that would be fitting. He opened his mouth and his heart did
it for him, right there in the bathroom, ass on the toilet, aching in ways he’d
never known in his entire life. “I love you, McKenzie.”
McKenzie’s whole body trembled but she caught herself against the
sag to the floor, drawing on those reserves she’d always possessed to put up
with him, to give everything to him. Ebony hair escaped the braid and hung
haphazardly around her shoulders. Tears again threatened to stain her sweet
face, bottom lip quivering in concert with rapidly blinking eyes. The sapphire
blue was fogged behind the sheen of moisture, and she’d never looked more
beautiful or enticing. Finally, “I know, Michael.”
He reached out a hand but McKenzie
walked the few feet to his home without further discussion, his hand set
possessively in the small of her back.
“Come to the bathroom, Michael. Let me take
care of you.”
* * *
*
Michael wanted to bellow. He wanted to shout. He wanted to throw McKenzie
to the floor and fuck her across it as a victory statement. Feeling nothing
less than a victorious warrior or maybe a bull who’d won the right to take his
female. Hell, he didn’t know. But he did know he’d better not make the wrong
choice this time around. He obediently followed his woman to the powder room,
sitting on the closed toilet seat at her urging. Little hands swiftly
unbuttoned his shirt with remembered dexterity and pulled it down his arms and
off, dropping the blood dappled fabric to the floor. McKenzie’s face was
swollen from crying and tear stained. His inner sadist surprisingly took a
backseat once again when normally her tears were so arousing. His woman knelt
to examine what now felt like a thousand ice picks drilling into his side,
gently prodding his ribs, asking him to take deep breaths. Those only felt like
thumping agonies, not the shards of pain she kept asking about.
“I don’t think your ribs are cracked or broken. But they’re going to
ache for a while. I’ll wrap them for you.”
Michael wondered if McKenzie would mind using those clever fingers
to release his aching cock, and if she might then want to kiss it better before
getting got up from her knees, but kept his mouth shut, schooling his features
into what he hoped was a manly, stoic look. In truth, all the cuts and bruises
were now making their presence known as the adrenaline faded, and while his ego
rejoiced at how he’d handled himself in his very first street fight, Michael kind of
wished cooler heads had prevailed.
McKenzie gently wiped the blood from his face with warm cloths
before efficiently cleaning all the cuts with the peroxide from the medicine
cabinet. She anointed them with topical antibiotic afterwards, hustling to the
kitchen to make up an ice pack for his eye that was swelling to match his
bottom lip. When she returned her face was different. Michael could read hope and
a hint of joy. His sub was back.
“What?”
“The birds. They’re still here.”
God, what an absolute prick he’d been. “I needed to punish you, fuck
with your head, McKenzie.” He stopped right there. He promised to be nothing
but open and honest and not fuck things up again. Taking a deep breath he made
the first attempt to put everything into words.
“I was trying to deny my true feelings for you and pushed you away.
I was fighting the inevitable. I’m sorry it took me so long to give up that
particular fight.”
McKenzie bit her lip and concentrated on placing the ice pack just
so, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. She yanked a tensor bandage from its box and
carefully bound up his aching ribs. And then there was nothing left for her to
do. She eased away to lean her back against the wall.
Michael knew she took that stance to avoid sinking to her knees. The
connection between them hadn’t lessened at all. If only he could come up with
something to say that would be fitting. He opened his mouth and his heart did
it for him, right there in the bathroom, ass on the toilet, aching in ways he’d
never known in his entire life. “I love you, McKenzie.”
McKenzie’s whole body trembled but she caught herself against the
sag to the floor, drawing on those reserves she’d always possessed to put up
with him, to give everything to him. Ebony hair escaped the braid and hung
haphazardly around her shoulders. Tears again threatened to stain her sweet
face, bottom lip quivering in concert with rapidly blinking eyes. The sapphire
blue was fogged behind the sheen of moisture, and she’d never looked more
beautiful or enticing. Finally, “I know, Michael.”
He reached out a hand but McKenzie
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