Page 51 of Mine To Break
“I got eyes, girl. I can see how much he cares for you, how much you care for him. I’m just mad you never told me a peep about him.”
“I never told you because of the last time I introduced you to my boyfriend.”
Mama snorted. “That boy was worthless and you know it. Colby, now, he’s something else entirely. You know it. I know it.”
She did. She’d known from the beginning that he was different than any other man she’d ever dated. Not because she didn’t know if he was submissive, not even because he wasn’t part of her BDSM world. But his personality, the cocky, easy smile, the hardened, seasoned warrior. It took a special kind of man to serve his country, and then his community as a police officer. Risking his life for very little pay or reward.
“You don’t care that he’s white?”
“I don’t care if he be brown, red, yellow, white, or black, as long as he loves you. Words are easy to throw around, but actions are harder to fake. His actions say he’s going to take care of you every chance you’ll give him. He’s not the lying, no-good leaving kind of man like your father.” Mama reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t make my mistakes, but don’t be afraid to grab what you want with both hands and hold on despite my mistakes, either.”
Colby came back in, plain jeans and cotton shirt, sticking to his back because he hadn’t dried off very well. Bare foot. His hair was growing out, which she liked. Brown, but hints of gold that would probably lighten if he got much sun.
“Y’all need a refill?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. He brought the carafe over and topped off her cup, then Mama’s. He started to turn back and she reached out, snagging his hand.
“Mama, I’ve got something important to tell you.” He paused, caught the serious look in her eyes, and immediately moved closer, taking up a protective stance at her side and setting the carafe down on the table to free his other hand, in case he needed to fight. Even wounded, he’d put his body in front of hers if he thought there was danger or she might face a battle. “I love this man and I plan on marrying him this Friday before the justice of peace, assuming Vicki finishes my dress on time. You got a problem with that?”
His fingers squeezed hers reflexively and he stared at her, his eyes suddenly raging with emotion. Hope, love, need, hunger. And yeah, satisfaction. She didn’t expect him to go down on his knees right there beside her chair in front of witnesses. Both knees, not the traditional proposal stance. Even more surprising, he pulled a ring box out of his pocket. One that she recognized.
As a child, she’d been allowed to look inside the red velvet box and dream about her grandma’s vintage wedding ring someday belonging on her finger.
“I happened to mention that I hadn’t been able to shop for a ring yet, and Miss Alice said there was no need. She had the perfect ring.”
“How…?”
Mama smiled, though her eyes shimmered with tears. “I was going through things and something told me I needed to bring it to you sooner than later.”
He took the silver ring out of the box and moved it to the tip of her finger, but didn’t slip it on just yet. “I’ve got something to tell you first.”
Mal leveled a hard look on him that made his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. Oh yeah, he was definitely feeling better. “What?”
“You gave me an ultimatum. You told me if I wanted to be here for long, I had to let go of something.”
She nodded, remembering that talk they’d had, sitting right here. Him with no shirt, wearing only his boxers. Blue eyes dark and hurt with old pain. Those eyes were dark, still, but not with pain. With desire.
“I gave notice to my lieutenant and am taking a job with an old high-school friend doing construction, as soon as the doc gives me the okay.”
She squeezed his hand, relief spilling over her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that. If you want to be a cop—”
“I want you,” he broke in. “Being a cop was never my dream. It was something to do that kept me alive and fighting until I could find you.” He bent his head but kept his eyes locked to hers, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Mal, will you marry me?”
She deliberately held back her immediate yes. She’d played with a lot of subs over the years, and he was pretty low on the kink scale. Would that be enough for her long term? Would she be too much for him? What if she handled him wrong, pushed him too hard, or required something unreasonable from him? Like his job. She was glad, so very glad, that he wanted to quit. But was that really his decision, and not him making a decision for her approval?
There really wasn’t any way to be sure, she knew that. But she couldn’t forget the way he responded to her. The trust he’d already placed in her. To go from never exploring kink at all, to making love with a Mistress, was a huge step for a man like him. It gave her so much territory to explore with him. Boundaries to find and test.
Sliding her left palm around the back of his head, she gripped his nape firmly, letting him feel the strength of her hand in a subtle way that wouldn’t embarrass him in front of Mama. He might never want to wear a collar, but she watched the emotions flickering across his face. Desire, yes, fading to surrender. No expectation, no demands—just a quiet acceptance and appreciation of the strength she gave him.
“Yes.”
