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“No,” Mickey answers easily. “I have to thank her.”
My eyes widen. “T-thank me?” I ask, turning my head so I can watch him over my shoulder.
He nods slowly, deliberately holding my gaze. “What you did tonight…” Trailing off, he swallows thickly. “Why?”
Even though I haven’t had a lick of alcohol, I feel buzzed and it takes me a second to find my voice. “I didn’t like seeing her touching you,” I admit. Then I shake my head, because that’s not the real reason. “I know what she did to you, and it pissed me off seeing her approaching you.”
“Jealous, baby?” Soren smirks.
“No,” I hiss, my immediate knee-jerk reply.
I don’t think what Simone stirred in me was petty jealousy; it was so much more than that. I wanted to hurt her because of how she hurt Mickey, just as I wanted her to stop touching him because… because… dammit, because I should be the only one allowed to do that.
“Okay, maybe I was a little jealous. I didn’t like seeing anyone else touch Mickey.” I hope they can hear the sincerity in my tone. To my surprise, Soren looks a little sour at my admission. “I don’t want anyone touching you either,” I add, wondering if that’s what’s bothering him, and when he grins, I know I was spot on in my assumption.
Mickey tightens his grip on my hips and grinds himself against my ass. “Why?” he asks on a rasp. “Tell us why you don’t want anyone else to touch us.”
A part of me wants to change the subject, deny what’s been in my heart for months, since I first laid eyes on them at O’Jackie’s months ago, what bloomed and blossomed with every touch and every kiss at Cupid’s Court. But I don’t want to, not anymore. Now that they know I didn’t lie, that they really are going to be dads to our beautiful baby girl, I can finally acknowledge the way I feel about them.
“Because you’re mine,” I confess, arching my back to invite more of Mickey’s grinding, and stretching so I can wind my arms around Soren’s neck, keeping him close. “And I want to be yours.”
“Really?” Soren asks, sounding doubtful, but also hopeful.
“Yes,” I nod eagerly.
I can feel Mickey’s grin against my shoulder. “You’re already ours,” he rasps.
The way they are with me now is so different from the guys who took me home from Cupid’s Court without giving me a choice. Sometimes, when I let myself think about it, like now, I feel foolish for believing them when they’re being sweet. But on the other hand, I don’t want to live my life second-guessing everything. Besides, I’ve seen the change in them; in their words and actions, and that’s all I need.
“I forgive you.” Since they’re not in my head and can’t hear my thoughts, I can only imagine how random the words sound, so I do my best to explain. “For what you did to me after I told you I was pregnant. I… I forgive you.”
Both guys immediately let go of me, like they can’t stomach touching me, which isn’t at all the reaction I was expecting. “You do?” Mickey asks, shock coating his tone as he moves so he stands in front of me, shoulder-to-shoulder with Soren.
“Yes,” I confirm, nodding.
To my surprise, their expressions shift into something that resembles chagrin, which doesn’t make any sense at all. Before I can ask about it, Soren says, “Yeah, about that—”
“About what?” I question, interrupting him.
Mickey inhales sharply. “The owner showed up at the doctor’s as a favor to us.”
“He… what?” I ask, confused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
The look Soren gives me is filled with so much trepidation my stomach tightens and my breath hitches. “We didn’t trust you,” he murmurs so softly I barely hear him. “So we asked him to help us make sure you stayed with us.”
What. The. Hell.
“You played me,” I whisper, dumbstruck at my own stupidity. “Oh my God!”
I try to move away, but two sets of hands root me in place, making it impossible for me to get away from them. “We did,” Mickey confirms, and at least he has the good grace to sound like he feels bad about it. “But we figured it was… err, the best way?” I’m assuming the question is rhetorical, so I don’t answer.
“We didn’t like having to lock you up,” Soren admits. “So it seemed like the best option.”
A cold, cynical laugh is ripped from my throat. “Yeah. It sure as hell beats asking me, doesn’t it?”
“Would you have said yes?” Mickey asks, and when I shrug, he adds, “Be honest.”
Sighing, I force myself to consider the question. As much as I’d like to think I would have been open and reasonable, I’m pretty sure the answer is no. “Probably not,” I admit. “But if you’d asked back at Cupid’s Court instead of just taking me with you, then I think I woulda.”
