I lifted a hand to his stubbly cheek and said softly, “Mickey.”
“Do not take from that I got feelings for her. I don’t. But she burned me, Amy. I heard you about it bein’ an illness but in her case, it’s her that had to find the strength to beat back the symptoms, even if she’ll never have a cure. Already told you I had a woman I couldn’t give what she needed, now you get how deep she scarred me. And I guess it’s eatin’ me I got one I like havin’ that needs nothing from me.”
I stiffened on top of him and said, “Mickey, I think I told you—”
“You did, baby,” he said gently. “But that shit has to sink through scar tissue that’s tough and runs deep. So you gotta keep gettin’ in my face, kickin’ my ass and makin’ that statement until it digs through.”
I glared at him, shifting my hand to his neck and declaring, “I think I’d rather kick her ass.”
“Please don’t do that, Amy. You do, she’ll think it’s part of my grand scheme.”
I said nothing even though I was happy to see Mickey was grinning.
Considering his mood seemed to have improved, I demanded, “Do I get Christmas?”
“You get Christmas,” he agreed.
“Thank you,” I snapped, though, I was not only glad he gave me Christmas, I was glad we both thought we’d be together at Christmas, that “we” including Mickey.
He kept grinning. “Told the guys. They’re pretty happy about the new shit that’s coming.”
“Of course they are,” I returned. “It’s a sixty inch TV. A woman is happy with six inches. For a man to get happy, it has to be sixty.”
He burst out laughing.
“Do I speak truth?” I asked.
His brows shot up. “You’d be happy with six inches?”
“I was happy with less than that for sixteen years so I guess the answer is yes.”
He kept laughing but started doing it so hard the bed shook.
In the face of his hilarity, I started grinning and said, “It was amusing, honey, but not that amusing.”
He sobered but not entirely, and replied, “Knew that guy had a small dick.”
“Without extensive study, I would hazard to guess that it was average and you’re…not.”
He kept smiling, doing it big, as he returned, “Guess I can give you somethin’ else you can only get from me.”
“Like you didn’t know you were endowed,” I scoffed.
“Never got out a ruler and do my best not to compare.”
“Guys do that all the time,” I told him.
“Uh…no they don’t,” he told me. “And I’m in a rare situation where a guy is doin’ that shit, he gets a look from me he knows if he doesn’t mind his own fuckin’ business, he’s gonna find his nasal passages at the back of his skull.”
My focus shifted to his ear as I mumbled, “I find this interesting.”
“You thought guys stood around comparing dicks?”
I focused back on him. “Actually, yes.”
He grinned at me. “My heiress and her perverted fantasies about guys comparing dicks.”
“It’s not a fantasy, Mickey.”
“Good you got one that’s a winner.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Can we stop talking about this?”
Suddenly, he pulled me close to his face and sobered entirely.
“I’ll try my best not to be a dick, not to bring it up, not to hurt your feelings or make you worry about it. I hate that I made somethin’ good you did that you were excited about, that I should have been excited about, into a fight. I may stumble along the way, Amy, but you got my word I’ll work on it.”
That, just that, was all I needed.
I melted into him, glided my hand to his jaw and slid my thumb along his lower lip, replying, “All I can ask, honey.”
He pulled me even closer, touched his lips to mine and then pushed me an inch away.
“Clean up,” he ordered quietly. “Get in one of your nighties and come back to me. Need sleep.”
“Okay, Mickey.”
I bent and gave him my own touch before I lifted up and again glided my thumb over his lower lip. After that, I rolled off, cleaned up, donned a nightgown and went back to him.
Mickey turned out the lights and tangled himself up in me.
I was almost asleep when Mickey mumbled, “My heiress thinks men compare dicks.”
My eyes shot open and I snapped drowsily at his throat, “Stop teasing me when I’m half-asleep.”
He gathered me closer. “You got it, baby.”
I sighed loudly, closed my eyes, snuggled into his heat and fell asleep tangled up in Mickey.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stamp Me Approved
“Truth be told!” Mrs. Porter shrieked at the TV.
“Jesus, what is that?” Lawrie asked in my ear as I moved away from the lounge at Dove House with my phone.
“Mrs. Porter. Wheel of Fortune.” I shared. “She got it on only the r.”
“Impressive,” he replied. “But are your ears bleeding?”
I grinned. “Since they got a TV they can actually see, Wheel of Fortune gets extreme. And you don’t want to be anywhere near the lounge during Jeopardy.”
I heard Lawrie chuckling.
My grin turned into a smile as I got into a much quieter hall, leaned against a wall between two residents’ rooms and gave him my attention.