Page 84 of What I Should Have Done

“Like how your usual, defensive, stubborn self normally does?” He cocked a brow, smirking.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“You like my ass.”

“It is a rather nice one.”

“Ha!” He pointed at me. “You can’t deny it now. You’ve checked me out.”

I nodded. “More than once.”

Mikey inhaled deeply again and tipped his head sideways, not quite registering my blunt statement or choosing to ignore it. “Feels nice now that someone else knows.”

“Same,” I replied, and he gave me a gentle smile. “How do you live with all of that, though?”

A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest. His shoulders rose with his inhale. “Why do you think I got into fights and shit all the time growing up?”

“For the control that you have to have, obviously,” I teased.

He shook his head, the smile falling from his face. “Because I was too weak to pull the damn trigger myself, Scottie.”

My breath caught in my throat. The man before me, stronger than the greatest lion and larger than life, once thought death was better than being here. “What?” I softly gasped.

Mikey drew his hands together and started picking at his already extremely short fingernails. “I knew better than to get into drugs and alcohol. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I watched it kill my parents. But I still did anyway. On top of fighting, of all the anger and resentment I had for myself, I just kept getting in deeper and deeper.” He stopped talking and raised his gaze to mine, a world of memories swirling like moonlight dancing across the ocean waves. “All because I wanted out. Out of the shit show that happened to be my life. But for whatever reason, my body was too fucking stubborn to kick the bucket despite the hell I put it through and here we are.”

“Oh, Mikey,” I whispered and stepped toward him.

He put a hand up, halting me in my path. “I don’t want your pity, Scotch.”

“Pity is not what I’m feeling.”

“Then what are you feeling?”

“That I’m proud of you.”

His eyes widened. Confusion swept across his face and goosebumps rose on his skin as he lowered his hand. “You’re what?”

My heart swelled. “You see it as being weak, but I see you being unable to take your own life as strength.” I paused as he rose to his feet and stepped toward me, closing the gap between us.

Warmth swept across my body, and it took everything in me to keep my eyes trained on his face; to keep my hands from raising to roam across his body. The scent of his sweat mixed with a hint of sand danced across my pores. I wanted to drown in the smell of him.

“And I’m fucking glad you’re still here; otherwise, you would’ve never met me,” I quickly added, trying to hide the heat that rose to my cheeks.

He lifted his usual cocky-ass brow. “And what a shame that would’ve been.”

“Exactly.” I grinned, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Calloused fingers suddenly brushed across my ear, stopping my heart in my chest. His touch burned like a jolt of lightning sent down from Zeus himself.

“I like it, by the way,” I whispered.

He furrowed his brows, letting his hand linger against my cheek. “You like…what?”

“Your tattoos. The one on your shoulder is fucking cool with the whole Cerberus, three-headed dog thing, and then the ones on your thighs, but the ones on your stomach and lower back. I like them a lot, it’s unique to only have tattoos there,” I explained.

An arrogant grin rose on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re just saying that to find an excuse to touch my abs, aren’t you?”

“Do I need an excuse?” I openly flirted, and his eyebrows twitched in shock.

“You’re getting really bold, yet I thought you were against anything happening.”

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