OGs: Deep Down (23 page)

“Like you wouldn’t believe it, but if you were still stuck on them, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would still be here.”

She knew. Because that was the kind of man Mike was. Some things were different in him, but the way he treated the women in his life hadn’t changed. Mike at his core was the same; it was the package that was rougher.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why did you drop the soap operas? You seemed to enjoy them.”

“They pissed me off. Life doesn’t work like that. In real life one is more than capable of royally screwing things up without machinations and interference from others. I certainly did.”

She’d been alone, her life a mess, a small baby in her care, an absent husband, all by her own hand. No one had interfered to ruin it for her; she’d done that on her own. She’d turned Mike down. She had been the one making the decisions that brought her all those consequences. There was no evil mother-in-law working behind the scenes to separate the two lovers. No jealous ex. No mobster dad. No one forcing her hand or moving the strings. It infuriated her that she’d managed to fuck up her life all by herself. She couldn’t blame anyone else, and honest to God, some nights she would have liked to be able to place the blame somewhere else to get rid of the burden.

“Kyra—”

She tensed, her stomach cramping from pain and from the realization that she’d talked too much. So she shook her head slightly. “Grissom is trying to find out who ran over a frat boy, and the others are after the killer,” she mumbled, diverting the subject and trying to bring him up to speed.

“Got it, babe. Relax. I can catch up.”

She thought she wouldn’t be able to relax, but in no time she did.

When her defenses were low enough, he whispered to her. “So that’s where my shirt went. Seven years ago.”

“Mmm,” she replied, noncommittal. She’d thought he hadn’t noticed the shirt, because he hadn’t mentioned anything about it when she opened the door, but she should have known better. Nothing escaped Mike.

She reached for a peanut-butter cup, peeled the wrapper, took a bite, and then offered the rest to him. She tried to ignore the way he licked the pads of her fingers.

“Do you always sleep with my shirts on?”

She shrugged, her eyes never leaving the TV. “Sometimes.” Always when she was sick like now, or down. It’d been washed too many times to still smell like him, though. She bought the same soap as when they lived together, trying to re-create the smell, but it hadn’t worked. Mike’s scent was unique. She knew; she’d been aching for it.

“Why didn’t you let me borrow it the other day when we had pizza and mine got trashed?”

She was too limp to lie, so she went with the truth. “Couldn’t risk you taking it back.”

“I wouldn’t have. I can give you more. All you have to do is ask. Scratch that. You don’t have to ask. Just come to my place, stay the night, and take them.” True, she could raid his wardrobe and renew her stash. Not sure those were going to be any good to her this time around. The truth of the matter was, losing him might kill her.

“Words, words. You haven’t returned the one you took.”

“Well, now that you bring it up, whose shirt was it? Josh’s?”

“Josh?”

“Sam mentioned him. Who is he?”

“Alexa’s brother and lead guitarist in Amantis. And no, the shirt was mine.” Mike had frowned when Sam had mentioned his name the day of the pizza, but he hadn’t asked until now.

“Good. I would hate for you to give me some other man’s shirt.”

“There is no other man. There are no other man’s shirts.” Just him. Just his.

“Good,” he repeated as he grabbed another peanut-butter cup from the table and fed it to her, then placed his hand on her stomach under the shirt.

After a couple of episodes of blood and gore, which he enjoyed immensely, he asked, “So when you run out of
CSI
, what do you watch?”

“
Deadliest Catch
.”

He stilled. “
Deadliest Catch?
The series about the fishermen in the Bering Sea? Not the most relaxing show around.”

“I look at those guys, working in those conditions, and I think that if they can make it, so can I.”

Mike swore. “I thought with time the pain would have gotten better.”

“Nope.” She’d been on the pill forever. Supposedly, it should have helped with the cramps too, but it never did. Since then she’d moved to the hormonal implants. They didn’t help either.

As her stomach started cramping again, she tensed, but Mike continued caressing her, mumbling sweet words until it passed.

“Better now,” she whispered.

“Baby, how did you manage all these years?”

Like she managed everything else without him. “Gritting my teeth.” Thank God the cramps were only this bad once a month.

“Your ex didn’t…”

“Help out?” She snorted. “Drake was never around, and when he was, he always made a point not to be there when I had my period.”

She felt his whole body tightening, but aside from another curse, he didn’t say anything else. She covered his hand with hers, their fingers intertwining.

“Thanks, Mike. I’m sure you have better things to do on a Sunday night than—”

He cut her off. “There is not a place I’d rather be than here with you. Tomorrow I’m bringing your rocking chair.”

“You keep it. I love knowing that there is something of me in your place.”

Mike stilled. “You really think that’s the only thing of you in my place?”

“Well, yeah,” she said.

“I’m bringing the rocking chair,” he replied after a while, his voice rougher than before. “And you are not going to work tomorrow.”

“But I—”

“Call in sick.”

“I’ll be better tomorrow. You know it’s only the first day.”

“You are not going in tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said in a placating tone, patting his hand, not wanting to argue. She’d just go to the gym tomorrow. She’d pulled off way more complicated shows, stuffed up to her ears with painkillers. Surely she could lead a couple of aerobics classes.

Mike didn’t seem to feel like arguing either, and he knew her pretty well, because he reached for the side pocket in his cargo pants, took his cell, and punched some numbers.

“Mike, who are you calling?”

Before he could answer her, someone on the other end picked up. “Yo, sis, Kyra is sick. Cancel all her classes for tomorrow. Yes, I’ll tell her. ’Bye.” Then he left the phone on the sofa table, near Kyra’s, and went back to massaging her tummy. “Problem solved.”

She was too sick to gather the energy to be pissed. “You definitely weren’t this bossy when we were together.”

“I was in my twenties then, Blondie. I was malleable. You missed your chance. Now I’m in my thirties, set in my ways. You just have to get used to it.”

As she was going to answer, her phone beeped. She reached for it.

She read the message twice, then let out a puzzled
hmm.

“What’s up?” Mike asked.

“Not sure. Sara must have been with your grandma, because she knows I’m sick. She sent me this text.
Feel better soon
. After that there are four emoticons: two hearts, and two…poo symbols. Not sure what that means.”

Mike gazed at the screen and chuckled. “Those are not shit symbols, baby. They are Hershey’s Kisses. Or so she thinks.”

“Get out of here,” Kyra mumbled. Those were honest-to-God shit emoticons.

“Yep. I’ve been trying to tell her for months that those are not Hershey’s Kisses, but she doesn’t believe me. Neither do Wilma or Greta, for that matter. You ought to read some of their texts. Between the autocorrect and the mixed-up emoticons, they’re something to behold.”

“Oh God. You got to be shitting me.”

“No, if anything, I’m Hershey Kissing you,” he said, his chuckles rumbling through her body.

That did it. Kyra started cracking up and couldn’t stop. Before Mike had come, even breathing hurt. Now she was laughing her ass off, shaking all over, and although her lower back and her stomach were still killing her, somehow she could bear it.

“Missed this, baby,” he whispered when the laughter subsided.

“Me being sick?”

“No, I’ve always hated it. You know it. Missed talking to you, laughing with you. Missed taking care of you.”

“I missed it too,” she whispered. “A lot. All the time.”

She covered his hand with hers and burrowed against him. His smell was now surrounding her, his rubbing motions soothing, and little by little she drifted to sleep, feeling looser than she had in seven years. Last thing she heard was Mike mumbling, “You’re done gritting your teeth.”

* * * *

After four episodes Kyra was asleep, her body finally pliant and at ease. He let out a long, deep breath, able to relax too. Fuck, he hated to see her in pain. He’d wondered a million times during their years apart how she was faring without him. It had driven him insane to think that someone else was comforting her. Now, though, knowing that no one had had her back and that she’d had to go through that pain alone every month brought him close to murderous rage.

He’d known what was going on the instant she’d dismissed him on the phone, so he’d bought the candy and headed to her place, all the time hoping against hope he was overreacting and her periods had gotten better. She’d opened the door, white and holding her stomach, unable to stand straight, and his gut had knotted.

Not even seeing her wearing one of his tees had gotten him to calm down.

Careful not to disturb her, he sat and lifted her in his arms. She looked so small and so damn fragile.

She stirred. “Mike?”

“Here, kitten.”

As she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Anything you want?”

“Nothing. Just checking,” she mumbled, still half-asleep. “Making sure it was you and not a dream.”

Mike’s throat closed off, and he had to swallow several times to get words out. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.”

She said nothing but snuggled against him, her face hidden in the crook of his shoulder. Once he had her tucked into bed, he lay on top of the blankets, spooning her, his arm possessively holding her against him. He knew his hard-on was probably digging a hole in the small of her back, but he couldn’t make himself move away.

“Mike? What are you doing?”

“Lying with you. Sleep. I’ve got you.”

“You’re hard.”

He smiled softly. “I know, babe.”

She hesitated. “Do you want to…? I know you never minded but—”

“I never minded, but you did. You were squeamish, and you’re sick. I know, sweetheart, no sex. Besides, I can wait a couple of days.”

Even in the dark he could see her flushing. God, she was so adorable. “No reason to be embarrassed, baby. You know I loved it.” She wasn’t up to it now, but she would be a sex kitten after the cramps were gone, horny as hell, coming undone from him just rocking against her, clothes on.

They never had sex when she was on her period, but they’d sure as hell fooled around plenty.

“Don’t worry about my hard-on,” he continued, stifling those thoughts. No need to torture his already aching cock any more than strictly necessary. “The worst that can happen is you’ll make me come in my pants. Which, let’s face it, you’ve done many times before.”

She giggled. “All those times were your fault. For not giving in.”

“True.”

She’d tried to convince him she was ready to have sex since she was seventeen, but he’d been adamant they wait until she was eighteen. He hadn’t wanted to pressure her in any way, didn’t want her to regret her first time, so he’d held out. She hadn’t agreed and pulled out all the stops to get him to change his mind. He’d won, but by the time the year was over, she’d made him come in his pants so many times it was fucking embarrassing.

“I will not take you with a condom,”
he’d growled at her one day when the petting had gone pretty heavy and he’d known his resolve was wavering.
“Get on the pill by the time you’re eighteen, or I’ll fucking guarantee, by the time we come up for air, you’ll be pregnant.”

She’d balked at his words, looking at him horrified.
“I can’t have a baby now.”

He’d shrugged.
“I’d rather see you pregnant with my baby years from now than right away, but it’s your choice. I’m fine either way.”

Next day she’d asked him to drive her to a free clinic. She’d gotten on the pill, and four months prior to her birthday, she’d taunted him nonstop every time they made out. Just the thought that he could be inside her, no barriers, had driven him insane, but he’d held on.

Kyra’s whispers got him back to reality. “If you don’t want sex…”

He laughed. “Don’t be mistaken, baby. I do want sex. Badly. But we’re moving this to the next level. I want more.”

He felt her still in his arms, now totally awake and tense. “What exactly does ‘more’ entail?”

It looked like he was going to have to spell it out for her. “I want it all. Everything. For starters, I’m staying the night. The whole night. I’m not leaving at the crack of dawn anymore. Or hiding anymore. From fucking no one.”

She stiffened. “But—”

“Next weekend my sister Lisa and her family are coming for a visit, and you and Sam are going with me to the barbecue at my parents’.”

That obviously freaked her out, because she tried to jump off the bed, and he had to hold her down.

“This is a bad idea, Mike.”

He rolled over her, pinning her down with his hips. “I understand there is no future here. I know you’ll leave, and you know I will not follow you, but now you are with me. For however long you’ll stay. I want to fuck you until either one of us can’t walk straight, but I want to do normal stuff with you too, whether or not there are people around us. I won’t allow you pushing me away or tensing when I try to touch you in front of someone. Not anymore.”

It had been killing him.

Like going to James’s wedding by himself, without her. She’d said she was going to spend a couple of days in New York anyway, but he was sure she would not have agreed to come as his date either way.

“Sam…”

“Stop hiding behind your daughter. You say keeping our distance in front of Sam is to protect her, so that she doesn’t get attached to me, but it isn’t. It’s to protect yourself because you’re afraid. It has nothing to do with Sam. And news flash, kitten. She is already attached to me. She’s been attached to me since the first day she laid eyes on me and decided to trail me in the gym. At this point you can’t force her not to have any contact with me, because it won’t work.”