Mickie
“Did you think I’d forgotten?” Dawson asked.
I was still gazing up at him in shock. “But…” I stammered. “Our anniversary’s not until Tuesday.”
His thumb rubbed across my jawline. “We’re celebrating early. I know I haven’t given you a romantic anniversary gift for the past few years, and I’m sorry for that. But I want to show you how much you mean to me.”
I kept falling deeper with every word he spoke. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, though.”
His brow furrowed. He glanced at the boat then back to me. “Do you like it?”
My eyes caught on the pristine white paint of the boat, the gleaming metal fixtures. The promise of tranquility. “I love it,” I whispered.
He nodded once and took my hand. “Then it was worth it.” He stopped before he bent down to pick up our bags, peering up at me. “But let’s get something straight. I didn’t have to do anything. I wanted to. Spending time with you is never going to any trouble.” He grinned. “Granted, you are trouble, but that’s another story.”
I laughed, smacking his arm. He helped me aboard the boat, holding me steady as he balanced us against the dock. Standing onboard, I realized it was even bigger than I thought. Plush white seats encircled the helm, with a small table in the corner. I walked through a door that led to the cabin below deck, where the kitchen, bathroom, and a small bedroom were located.
The bed was larger than I would have imagined. We would both definitely fit comfortably on that.
Patience, girl.
“What do you think?” he called from above deck.
I climbed up the stairs, shielding my eyes from the bright sun. “It’s beautiful.”
Same went for the smile he flashed at me. Beautiful.
“Ready to shove off, then?” he asked.
“Whenever you are, Captain.”
His hands froze on the ropes he was untying from the dock. When he peeked over his shoulder, he looked like a predator about to devour his prey.
“We can have some fun with that later,” he growled. “Since you’re so into role play and everything.”
I scoffed. “Like you wouldn’t enjoy pretending you were a pirate and I was your prisoner.”
He pinched my ass when he passed me to get to the other rope. “Only as long as you had to do whatever I said.”
“As you wish, oh, Captain, my Captain.”
His playful grin turned into a smoldering glare. “Now, you’re just toying with me.”
I blew him an air kiss. “Because you’re so much fun to play with.”
I had to stifle my laughter when I heard him mumble under his breath, “I’ll give you something to play with.”
I watched with rapt attention as he stepped behind the helm and steered us out onto the water. I had never seen this side of him before. He commanded the vessel with such ease and self-assuredness, one would think he’d been boating his entire life.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him or the way his arm muscles flexed as they controlled the wheel. I even snuck a covert picture of him when the sun was shining down at just the right angle, reflecting off his aviator sunglasses.
“I saw that,” he muttered.
Or, maybe not so covert.
I giggled. “So, where are you taking us?”
He raised his arm, pointing straight ahead. “We’re going to head down the Patapsco River, and then I thought we could anchor near Stoney Beach. That okay with you?”
I stretched my legs out across the seat cushions, soaking up the feeling of the sun warming my skin. “Whatever you say. You’re in charge.”
The breeze whipped through my hair as he led us down the river and out into the larger body of water that would eventually lead into the Chesapeake Bay. I was content with staying in this spot all day, feeling the cool spray of the water splash against my face, listening to the waves as they crashed against the boat’s hull. I may have even drifted off to sleep at one point.
Until Dawson’s voice jolted me awake. “You want to steer?” he asked.
“Really?” Because that sounded fun.
He positioned me to stand in front of him, and placed my hands on the wheel.
“It’s easy,” he said. “You just keep your hands on the wheel, and make sure the compass keeps pointing straight.”
It may not have been a joint, but taking that wheel sure gave me a good high. He stood next to me the whole time, though I could feel every time he glanced over, smiling as he watched me. Once the sun started to set, he took over and guided us to a shallower area near shore where we could anchor for the night.
“Hungry?” he asked.
I stood up, stretching my tired limbs. “Very.”
He disappeared down into the cabin and returned less than a minute later with a pizza box in his hands. He set it down on the table and waited for my reaction.
I looked at the label. “You actually managed to get dinner from The Pie Guys?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
We each grabbed a piece and chowed down. “I’d be more impressed if it was Fabrizio’s.”
He dropped his head and groaned. “Not this again. After all these years and you’re still in denial?”
I pointed my finger at him. “When The Pie Guys get their crust right, then we’ll talk. Until then, they’re still second best.”
He shook his head in mock disappointment. “You’re hopeless, woman.”
“You know, Fabrizio actually brought his family’s original recipe over from Naples,” I said. “Someday, I’d love to go to Italy and sample real pizza like that.”
“You want to go to Italy?” he asked, sounding surprised.
I looked at him curiously. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to. Have I really never told you that before?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. Never.”
Huh. I guess you could always learn new things about your spouse.
We had several minutes of random conversation before I switched topics. “You never told me how the visit with your mom went.”
Both eyebrows went up. “Good, actually. She seems to be doing really well.” He added in a quieter voice, “She’s even making flower arrangements again.”
I wished he would look at me, but he was watching his finger trace invisible patterns on the table’s surface.
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “That’s great. Has to be a good sign, right?”
He nodded. “I think so. It gives her something to focus on, at least.”
I smiled as memories assaulted my mind. “I still have the bouquet she made me for our wedding.”
Though she hadn’t actually come to our wedding. Dawson hadn’t wanted to invite Sal, and Sal hadn’t been about to let his wife attend if he couldn’t. But she had managed to make a small bouquet for me that she sent with Mason. The note she’d secured with it said I didn’t have to use it in the ceremony. It was just her small way of saying sorry she couldn’t be there with us. Dawson had been so frustrated with her cowing down to Sal that he’d demanded I throw it away. He didn’t want it apart of our special day.
I’d carried it with me down the aisle.
His eyes snapped to mine. “You kept it?” He didn’t sound angry. Just surprised.
I rubbed my hand down my leg, wondering if I should have admitted that. “Yeah. Throwing it away felt wrong.”
His expression turned pensive. “I never asked you why you decided to walk down the aisle with it.”
I chuckled. “No. You were too mad that I hadn’t respected your wishes.”
I expected him to laugh, but he didn’t.
I sighed. “I wanted it with me because it was her way of apologizing. Whether you wanted to see it or not, she had been trying.” I shrugged. “And I don’t know… It felt like the only connection we had to any of our parents. My dad died in prison. My mom is still in prison and wouldn’t recognize me even if I was standing right in front of her. Sal was Sal. It felt like she was all either of us had.”
Except for Uncle Frank and Aunt Hope, who I’d always counted as my parents. Just not biologically.
“Her bouquet was the only way of making it feel like part of her was there with us,” I added.
I became worried when he remained quiet, but I wouldn’t apologize for what I’d done. I didn’t regret it. It still felt like it had been the right thing to do.
“Thank you,” he whispered. He covered my hand with his, piercing me with his dark gaze. “For doing that. For seeing what that meant at the time because I sure as hell hadn’t.”
I laced my fingers through his and squeezed. “I wouldn’t have expected you to. It was an emotional day for everyone.”
We fell silent again, but I didn’t mind. Sitting there, listening to him breathe while we sipped on our wine, was the most wonderful experience I’d shared with him in years.
“Can I ask you something without you getting upset?” I asked carefully.
The corner of his mouth curled. “I’ll do my best.”
I ran my finger down the stem of my wine glass, gathering courage. “What happened when Sal died?” His fingers went slack. “I know he spoke with each of you individually. What did he say to you?”
Part of me felt like it was none of my business.
But another part of me felt like I had every right to ask.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and tightened his grip on my hand. He was acting like he wouldn’t get through this without having that connection.
“He and I didn’t have one honest, meaningful conversation throughout my entire life,” he said in monotone. “Because there was no talking to that man. All he knew was anger and condescension. But when he was in the hospital for that final week, he didn’t yell once. Not at any of us.”
I felt tears building, but I forced myself to fight them back for his sake.
“It was the first time he seemed like an actual man to me and not just a monster,” he continued. “As he’d lain there dying in that bed, I wanted to hate him, like I had all my life. But I wasn’t able to, and I couldn’t figure out why. He was just such a pathetic sight that…I felt sorry for him. And I was mad about that. That I felt any ounce of sympathy at all for him.”
I rubbed along his forearm, attempting to comfort. “It’s okay to feel like that,” I told him gently. “You might have hated him, but you’re human, too. And we can’t help but feel more sometimes, even for people who don’t really deserve it.”
His other hand covered our joined ones. “It wasn’t that I felt sorry for the fact that he was dying or that he was in pain. I felt sorry for the life he’d lived. For how much of it he’d wasted. His children were only there at the end to support their mother, not because they loved him. And his wife was only there because she was too emotionally dependent on him not to have dumped his ass years ago. But no one was there who truly loved him unconditionally. He’d never earned that from anyone in his life.”
“That is sad,” I whispered in agreement.
“When he asked to talk to me alone, I didn’t really want to listen. But at the same time, I was afraid I might regret it if I refused. So, I sat there at the foot of his bed and just listened.” His voice was finally starting to crack. “He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘You’re the leader of this family now. But I guess you always were the leader. You’ve practically raised your brothers, and you’ve helped take care of your mom. You’re a better man than I would have ever hoped to be. Don’t let them down like I did.’ And that was it. I didn’t say anything in response. I didn’t really know what I could say.”
My heart broke for him. I said to hell with the tears and just let them go. “Oh, Dawson.”
“The craziest part, though, is that I want to do what he said.” He searched my eyes, as if he would find all his answers hidden in their depths. “I didn’t respect the man one single damn bit. So, it sounds so ridiculous to say that I don’t want to be a disappointment.” He laughed bitterly. “I don’t want to disappoint a dead man, who was nothing but abusive toward me while he was alive.” One lone tear escaped the corner of his eye, and trickled slowly down his cheek. “How fucked up is that?”
God, he was killing me. Turning me into a blubbering, emotional wreck.
When I scooted closer and wrapped my arms around him, he immediately pulled me in tight and buried his face in my neck.
“Shh, baby,” I whispered. “You could never be a disappointment. You take care of your family. You’re the best, most loving man I’ve ever known.”
“How can you say that?” he murmured. “You are disappointed in me, Mick. You have been. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have kicked me out.”
Pain and guilt battled it out inside me. I clasped his head and made him look at me. “I only did that because we needed some time to figure out what had to change between us. We both have to improve, Dawson. But that’s normal in life. That’s a marriage. If we stopped evolving, stopped striving to be better every day, then we’ll have given up on trying to make each other happy.”
I kissed the tracks of tears on his face. “People change as they get older, which means their relationships have to change with them. Just because we’ve had to take a closer look at how we’ve changed doesn’t mean I’m not happy with you. I’m just excited to see where we’re going next. And none of that means I’m disappointed in you, Dawson. You’ve never once disappointed me.”
He held me tighter, laying sporadic kisses on my shoulder. “Things are going to change,” he said. “I promise. Despite what it may seem like sometimes, I’ve never wanted to stop trying to make you happy.”
I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing every inch of skin I could find. “I know.”
Things suddenly took a frantic turn.
His hands slid down my back and cupped my ass. He yanked me onto his lap, placing me right over his hardness. The mood had gone from sweet and comforting to hot and wanton in the blink of an eye. I yearned to feel his hands on my body. Remind myself of how possessive they could be.
I tugged my tank top over my head while his hands dipped below my waistband and underneath my panties, kneading the bare skin of my butt. He removed one to rip the zipper of my sports bra down, spilling my naked breasts into his ravenous mouth. After he shoved my yoga pants over my knees so I could kick them off, I ground my hips against him, using the coarse denim of his jeans to rub my center.
He pried his lips away from my nipple and said, “Why don’t you help me get these jeans off, so you can rub that clit against something that will feel so much better.”
I practically tore the shirt from his body in my urgent need to get him naked. Together, we wrenched his pants down his legs until we could connect skin against skin. He adjusted his position and laid against the seat cushions on his back. I sat atop him, propping myself up with my hands, while he put his hands behind his head and watched with wonderment.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “The way you look right now with the night sky above you, stars twinkling around your face, it’s like you’re my own personal angel sent from the heavens.”
I smiled as I brought him to my entrance. His eyelids drooped as I began to slide down his length, slowly working myself onto him until I was completely impaled.
We both gasped.
As I moved over him, rolling my hips in steady movements, he grasped at my breasts, tweaking my nipples. When he began to lose control, he grabbed my hips and encouraged me to go faster. My breathing became stuttered.
“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “Feel me.”
When I couldn’t contain my moans, I let them break free. It felt liberating, knowing there wasn’t a single person around who could hear us. No kids, or brothers, or random strangers. It was just us, the serene waters, the diamond-studded sky, and our bodies joined in primal, exquisite intimacy.
He surged upward to meet me chest-to-chest, and drove his hips harder into me. We were there, holding each other close together as we both came in glorious, breathtaking fashion. The more we lost our minds at the sensations, the longer our climaxes seemed to last.
By the end of it, I was so overwrought with emotions I thought I was going to burst into hysterical sobs. Thankfully, I didn’t. But the war was not easily won.
He pushed my mass of curls away from my face and kissed me sweetly, deeply. “You are so damn perfect,” he said. “I still don’t know why you’re with someone like me. But I’m going to be grateful for every day that I’m able to keep you.”
I played with the scruff covering his cheeks, sitting comfortably with him still inside me. “You get to keep forever.”
“Always and forever,” he corrected, placing our joined hands over his tattoo.
He picked me up and carried me—without pulling out of me—into the cabin and gently placed me on the bed. He twitched inside me, and my center started to throb all over again. He may not have been a young man anymore, but he could still go all night long like he used to. He just needed longer breaks in between.
Apparently, not this time because he was beginning to harden.
He inhaled deeply through his nose. “I’ve missed that.”
“Missed what?”
His eyes drifted to my hair, which was fanned out around me, seeming fascinated by the sight.
“Your smell,” he answered. “Your hair has this particular scent that I’ve craved ever since I met you. That smell hasn’t changed in ten years. I’ve woken up to it every morning. I smell you before I see you, before I touch you. Even when you leave bed before me, it’s still on your pillow. That smell is home to me.”
He fell forward, propping himself on his elbows, and spoke against my parted lips. “And for two months I’ve missed that smell. Nothing else has felt right in my life since I’ve started waking up and haven’t automatically known you were lying next to me.” He pulled in another lungful of air. “I need to breathe you in, Mick. When I can’t, it feels like I’m not breathing at all.”
I was blown away, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond. He crushed my mouth beneath his, thrusting his tongue past the seam of lips. Unapologetically. Possessively. The kiss was the final step to bringing him back to full erection. He pulled out until his tip grazed my wet folds, and then slowly eased back into me.
I could tell this time would be lazier. Less frantic.
We had all night—all weekend—so there was no need to rush. But there was every reason in the world to savor.
“I love you, Mickie,” he whispered. “So much. I know I’ve probably made you doubt a lot of things lately. But please, don’t ever doubt that.”
I spread my legs wider, allowing my body to take him in deeper. We both smiled at the welcome contact.
“I never have.”