Page 154 of Protecting What's Mine

He pressed a kiss to her heart and heard her shaky breath.

She tilted his chin to get a better look at his face. “I need my kit,” she said, prodding around the cut on his forehead. “I’ll fix you up good as new.” Then in a gesture so pure, so sweet, it broke his dented heart, she brushed her lips to the cut.

“I love you, Mackenzie.”

51

Mack’s heart tripped in her chest.

“I love you,” Linc said again, pressing a kiss to her belly, his hands splaying across her back, her ribs, holding her in place, keeping her safe.

She wanted to laugh and cry and settled for a little of both, hugging him to her.

He rose carefully, still holding her, and turned off the water.

“Let’s have that talk,” she said, reaching for one of the fluffy towels on the hook.

“No matter what you’re going to say, Dreamy, I’ll still love you,” he said, accepting the towel she handed him.

“I guess we’ll see,” she said quietly.

He followed her into the bedroom and let her push him down on the mattress. “Stay,” she said and disappeared downstairs to grab her med bag at the door.

She returned to find him sprawled out against the pillows, taking up most of the entire bed. Those blue eyes opened when she entered, and she felt the beginnings of a hope so fierce she was afraid of it.

“It takes me a while to process things,” she began, settling next to him and opening her bag. “To get comfortable with them.”

He closed his fingers around her wrist when she moved in with an antiseptic swab. “It’s okay. I’ll just keep telling you until you catch up, Dreamy. I love you. I’ve never said it to anyone outside my family. Well, maybe Brody. But I’ve never said it to anyone this way. I love you. I’ve loved you. I will continue to love you, and I really, really need you to stay, or if you don’t want to stay, I’ll go with you. But I’ll keep telling you until you’re ready.”

She felt her lips curve. “That’s not what I mean. I love you, Linc. I’ve known since—”

But her words were cut off when he surged up and kissed her. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, his lips hard against hers. And then his tongue was sweeping into her mouth, gently, firmly laying his claim. She melted into the kiss. Basking, warming, hoping.

But there was more he needed to know. She drew back.

“The cookout.”

“The cookout?” he repeated, then hissed when she sneakily pressed the alcohol swab to his cut.

“When you swooped in here with grocery store flowers and ingredients for dip and gave your dog a bath with the hose. I’ve known since that moment that I loved you, and I’m just now working up the nerve to tell you.” She leaned in and blew on the wound.

“Well, how about you work up the nerve to tell me the rest of the story, and then we can spend the rest of the day making up?” he suggested.

“I hope you’ll still want that, want me…after.” She looked away, organizing her supplies on the comforter.

“Dreamy, have you ever run a puppy mill operation?”

She looked up, shook her head.

“Ever purposely murdered a bunch of my family members?”

“Not to my knowledge.” She smiled as she dabbed Neosporin on his wound.

“Have you ever thrown a bag of fast food trash out of your car window because you were too lazy to find a trash can?”

“God! No!” She pressed the butterfly bandage in place.

“Then nothing you say is going to change how I feel about you.”