Chapter Nine
KAIA
Six Months Later
The steam from the shower wraps around us like a warm cocoon, and I lean back against Hurricane’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my spine.
His hands trace gentle circles over my swollen belly, our twins moving restlessly inside me as if they can sense the tension radiating from their father.
It’s two hours before he has to leave.
Two hours before he rides out to face the Rojas Cartel in what everyone’s calling Operation Darkfire.
Immy is finally asleep after fighting bedtime for what felt like forever. She’s been clingy lately, like she knows that her daddy’s on edge, that we’re all on edge—kids seem to sense that stuff.
“They’re active tonight,” Hurricane murmurs against my ear, his voice rough with emotion as one of the babies kicks particularly hard against his palm.
“They know their daddy’s about to do something s-stupid,” I whisper, my voice cracking despite my efforts to stay strong.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel his chest rise and fall with a shaky breath. “Not stupid, Sha. Necessary.”
I want to argue with him.
I want to tell him that nothing is more necessary than him staying here with us.
Staying safe.
Staying alive.
But I know Hurricane, and I know Defiance. When Javier Rojas started making his play for government control, when LA Defiance called for help, there was never any question that Hurricane would answer.
This isn’t just about territory anymore.
It’s about the future—our children’s future.
Javier Rojas wants to build a totalitarian empire, and Hurricane would rather die than let Immy and our unborn twins grow up in that kind of world.
I understand it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Turn around,” he whispers, his hands sliding to my hips.
I turn in his arms, the water cascading over my skin, careful with my massive belly, and look up into those ice-blue eyes that have been my anchor through everything.
His dusky blond hair is damp and curling slightly at the ends, and his beard has grown longer over the past few weeks.
He looks older, more weathered, like the weight of what’s coming has aged him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes out the words while his hands cup my face. “Even when you take up all the space in the shower, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”
Despite his jab, I smile. “I feel like an elephant. A very cranky, very pregnant elephant who can’t see her own feet.”
His laugh is soft and warm, and then his mouth is on mine, kissing me with a desperation that makes my heart ache. Tears spring to my eyes, but I push them away. I won’t spend these precious moments crying.
His hands roam over my wet skin, worshiping every curve, every swell, like he’s memorizing me. When his fingers trail between my legs, I gasp, my body responding to his touch despite the heaviness of my emotions.
“Hurricane,” I murmur, my hands fisting in his wet hair.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against my lips. “Let me make you feel good.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, his lips brushing over the swell of my belly before trailing lower.
The steam wraps around us as he spreads my thighs wider, his big hands firm on my hips.
“Lean back, baby. Let me taste what’s mine.
” His mouth finds me without hesitation, tongue flicking over my clit before sucking it into his mouth with a growl that vibrates against me.
The sharp cry that leaves me echoes off the tiles as my knees threaten to buckle, and I clutch the wall to stay upright.
“That’s it…” He groans between licks, his voice wrecked and reverent.
“Give it to me. Let me hear you fall apart.”
He devours me like a man starving, his beard scraping deliciously against my thighs, tongue sliding deep before circling back up to tease.
Every move is precise, practiced, but desperate, too, like he knows this might be the last chance to worship me this way.
The water pelts against his broad shoulders as he pins me with his eyes, those stormy blues burning into me while he eats me alive.
The coil inside me winds tight, and when his thumb joins in, rubbing circles in time with his tongue, I scream his name, my whole body convulsing as I come undone.
His fingers work their magic, knowing exactly how to touch me, how to make me forget everything except the pleasure building inside me. The warm water cascades over us as he brings me higher and higher, until I’m gasping his name and falling apart in his arms.
But he isn’t finished.
He rises, towering over me, his chest slick with water, his mouth glistening with me.
He kisses me hard, shoving his tongue into my mouth so I taste myself on him.
“You’re mine!” He growls out the word against my lips.
“Every inch of you belongs to me. Even swollen with my babies, you’re my woman.
” He grabs my hand and guides it to his cock, thick and hard between us.
“Feel that? That’s what you do to me. Always. ”
Before I can fully catch my breath, he’s turning me around, one hand splayed protectively over my belly, the other braced against the shower wall.
“I need you.” His voice is raw with emotion and desire. “I need to be inside you, Sha. I need to feel you around me.”
“Yes,” I whisper, because I need it too. I need this connection, this joining, this proof that we’re alive and together in this moment.
His cock pushes into me from behind, slow at first, careful with my body, but his hand grips my hip so tightly I know control is hanging by a thread.
“Fuck!” He groans, sinking deeper inch by inch, filling me until I gasp, forehead pressed to the wet tile.
“So goddamn tight. Always so tight for me.” His hand slides up, closing over my throat, not to choke but to hold, to remind me of exactly who I belong to.
“Say it,” he demands, his lips brushing my ear. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I sob, my body clenching around him. “Always yours.”
“That’s right,” he snarls, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into me, hard enough to make the wall rattle.
“And I’m never gonna stop fucking you like you’re mine.
Pregnant, crying, moaning, I don’t give a damn.
You’ll always take me. You’ll always give me this.
” The rhythm of Hurricane’s thrust from behind is slow and careful because of my swollen belly, but there’s nothing gentle about the emotion pouring off him.
This isn’t just sex—it’s ‘I love you and I’ll fight for you’ all rolled into one desperate act.
His rhythm builds, controlled yet punishing, each thrust claiming me all over again.
My breasts are heavy, my body stretched and aching, but none of it matters because he’s here, wrapped around me, inside me, drowning me in everything he is.
“I’ll come home to you, Kaia,” he grits out before his teeth bite into my shoulder while he pounds into me.
“I’ll fight like hell, and when I do, you’ll give me this again. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I sob, pushing back against him, desperate for more, desperate to feel every brutal inch of him. “Yes, Hurricane. I’ll wait. I’ll give you everything.”
His hand slides down to rub my clit in rough circles timed with his thrusts. My knees shake, pleasure coiling sharp and hot, and I can’t hold it in. “Come for me, Sha,” he orders, his voice dark and commanding. “Scream my name. Let everyone in this damn clubhouse know who makes you fall apart.”
He thrusts again, and at the same time, his thumb presses on my clit.
A tingle breaks out all over my skin, causing goose bumps to rise with a cold sweat.
As my muscles tighten, the explosion hits me like a tidal wave, endless and unforgiving.
I moan something unintelligible while the orgasm rips through me like fire, my body convulsing, my voice breaking on his name as tears pour down my cheeks.
Hurricane lets out a long, low groan, his fingers gripping my hip as his body begins to jerk a little like he’s getting close.
His cock throbs with the pleasure rolling through him, and he firmly pulls me harder onto his cock.
“Dammit, Kaia… fuuuck,” he roars seconds later, groaning low and gravelly, grinding deep inside me as he empties himself with a shudder that feels like it cracks him open too.
His movements are controlled but passionate, his free hand gripping my hip as he slows his rocking into me. I can feel my tears mixing with the shower spray on my chest, and it only makes them start falling harder.
“I love you,” he whispers fiercely, seated deep inside me, but still now. “I love you so goddamn much, Kaia. You and Immy and these babies… you’re my whole world.” He pants against my ear.
“I love you too.” I push back against him, taking him deeper. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”
We cling to each other, to this moment, to the connection that’s sustained us through everything. I can’t stop the tears that pour down my face.
But even now, he doesn’t let me go. He kisses my wet hair, my cheek, my shoulder, whispering broken words between breaths. “Mine. Always mine. Remember that when I’m gone.”
My body begins to wrack with my sobs, and Hurricane gently pulls out, turning me back around to face him, gathering me in his arms. We stand under the spray, holding each other. And he doesn’t say a thing about me sobbing.
He just holds me tighter than humanly possible.
Because he knows.
He knows that leaving for a war this big, with me being pregnant and with another child at home, is terrifying for me.
But I would never ask him to stay.
Even though every inch of me is bursting to do just that.
Because this is what he was born to do, to be president and lead his men.
“I’m gonna do everything I can to come home to you,” he promises, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m gonna fight like hell to get back to our family.”
“You better,” I whisper against his chest. “Because if you don’t, I’ll find a way to follow you into whatever afterlife exists just so I can kick your fucking ass for leaving me.”
He laughs, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “There’s my fierce woman. Hold onto that fire while I’m gone, okay? Use it to keep yourself and our babies safe.”
We stay in the shower for a while, just clinging to each other under the spray, letting the water wash away the salt of our tears and the heat of what we just shared.
Eventually, the water runs cooler, and reality creeps back in.
Hurricane kisses me one more time. It’s slow and lingering, like he’s trying to brand it into memory, before reluctantly reaching past me to turn off the faucet.
The silence that follows is heavy, thick with everything unspoken. He wraps a towel around me with gentle hands, pressing one last kiss to my damp hair before tugging one around his waist.
Step by step, we move back into the world beyond this moment.
The process of getting dressed feels surreal. Every movement is heavy with the knowledge that this might be the last time we do something so simple, so domestic, together.
Hurricane pulls on his jeans, shirt, and his Defiance cut, the leather looking extra intimidating tonight. I slip into one of his oversized T-shirts and a pair of maternity leggings, my movements slow and awkward.
“I have to brief the boys,” he says, his voice back to presidential mode, but I can see the cracks in his armor.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He comes to me one more time, his hands framing my face. “I need you to stay strong for me, Sha. I need you to take care of our babies and trust that I’m comin’ back to ya.”
“I’ll try,” I whisper.
“Don’t try. Do it! Promise me?”
“I promise.”
He kisses me one more time, soft and lingering, then he’s gone.
Leaving me alone in our bedroom with the ghost of his presence and the terrifying reality of what’s about to happen.