Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
Ruin
I kissed her.
No—fuck that. I devoured her. Swallowed every gasp she gave me until sleep finally dragged us under.
Christ. She initiated the kiss twice. Twice.
Now I’m waking up next to her, my hand draped over her waist like it belongs there.
She looks so—
“Grrrblennn…”
—adorable.
A quiet chuckle slips out of me as I prop myself up on my elbow. Didn’t know she spoke fluent gibberish in her sleep.
I don’t know what I expected. Nightmares, maybe. The kind that has been clawing at me ever since that place.
But she didn’t stir. Not once.
She’s sprawled out like she downed a whole bottle of wine last night—one arm tossed above her head, the other flung over her forehead like she’s exhausted from existing.
Both her feet have escaped the duvet. And one of them—fuck—one of them is resting lightly over my uninjured calf. Like even in her sleep she was reaching for me.
Her foot is wrapped around me. Not her arms. Not curled into my side. Not tucked under my chin. Or her face nuzzling into my neck.
Her. Foot.
Somehow, my entire body melts at the contact.
I exhale slowly, my gaze tracing over her face—soft, slack, peaceful in a way I haven’t seen before.
Thank fuck she slept. I don’t know how she’s been getting through the nights this past week. After just one night beside her, I can’t imagine sleeping anywhere else.
God, I really fucking hope she lets me stay.
My lips thin, slightly annoyed.
The movies have failed me. Isn’t there supposed to be a strand of hair out of place so I can reverently tuck it behind her ear?
I shift, leaning over her to get a better look. The sun streams through the thick curtains, leaving a soft glow on her face.
I brush my fingers along her jaw. Her lips part, a low, sleepy sigh slipping free.
When her brow creases, I smooth it with my thumb, watching the tension melt under my touch.
Finally, she stirs. Turns her head away, eyes squeezed shut, arms curling in as she stretches out with a long, lazy yawn. A soft, incoherent mumble follows—somewhere between a complaint and a squeak—as sleep loosens its grip.
Her eyes blink open. Once. Twice.
The second she turns back toward me—
“AHHHHH!”
I jerk back at the ear-splitting shriek. Scrambling just in time to avoid a direct hit to my already injured abdomen, but her flailing legs still connect dangerously close to my balls.
Jesus.
Thank fuck I can still have children. Preferably with her.
My train of thought derails immediately when she tries to smack my outstretched arm away. “Jesus Christ,” I grunt. “Charlotte—Charlotte! Baby, it’s me.”
She blinks rapidly, reality snapping into place. Her gaze clears, landing on me—curled up on her bed like I’m bracing for impact. Which, to be fair, I am. Mostly protecting my future children.
“Theo,” she breathes.
I huff out a laugh. “One and only.”
She freezes for a beat, then bursts into laughter. Loud, unfiltered, slightly hysterical.
I wince, still smiling.
“I—” She drags a hand down her face, still laughing. “God, I thought you were an intruder.”
Of course. She’s obviously not used to sharing a bed with someone. The thought, however, spreads like a warm bubble around me.
I raise a brow at her. “Yeah? And your first instinct was attempted murder?”
She squints at me. “You were watching me sleep.”
“That does sound bad when you say it like that.”
“Because it is bad, Stalkerson!”
Coughing to hide my laugh, I shrug, unapologetic. “In my defense, you looked cute. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.”
She grabs a pillow and hurls it at my face.
I catch it easily—grinning. “Good morning, baby,” I rasp, pulling her back to me.
She rolls her eyes but snuggles up to me, resting her head on my chest. “Good morning.”
Unable to resist, I roll to my side, pulling her impossibly close. My face buried in her neck. God, I can’t get enough of her. I inhale deeply and pull her tighter against me. A needy whimper slips out of my throat, but I don’t give a fuck anymore.
“Aaand now you’re sniffing me,” she says flatly, though her hand settles on my forearm, holding me there. “Aren’t you supposed to—oh, I don’t know—get up and work?”
“Five minutes,” I mumble into her neck, my voice muffled and borderline whiny. “You threw me away in your sleep. I need some Charlotte time.”
“Awww,” she chuckles softly. “Is that manly, biker speak for cuddles?”
There’s a teasing lilt in her voice, gentle and warm, and I’m too far gone to pretend otherwise. As long as none of the brothers see me like this, I’m good.
So I nod. Probably a little too eagerly.
“Is your dressing okay?” she asks, her tone shifting with concern. “I hope I wrapped it tight enough.”
“All good, my love,” I reply without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to her throat.
She shivers, and I still.
Because I don’t know what caused it—the kiss or… my love.
Her swallow is audible, her pulse brushing against my lips.
“I… um…” She hesitates, then clears her throat. “What’s on your agenda today?”
My body locks, stomach dropping like a stone. I know exactly why she’s asking.
We’ve all been tight-lipped about Scar and Hellfire—about where they’re being kept, about what’s waiting for them. I made sure they weren’t anywhere near the clubhouse.
Not anywhere near her vicinity.
Now she’s asking about my agenda. Probably because she’d heard me. That one time I slipped while talking to Hound and Ryder.
How I’d promised that they’d bleed for seven days… a day for each of the seven hours she was trapped in that cell.
I exhale tightly, my throat working on a hard swallow. “Just arranging for Scar and Hellfire’s last day on earth.”
“Can I… watch?”
I groan. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
I ignore her near-petulant tone. “Baby, it’s not something I’d want you to see, okay?”
“Wow, you demoted me back to baby—just like that, huh?”
I moan into her neck, almost pathetically. To my surprise, when I snuggle in closer, she wraps her arm around me. The other one slides under my head, cocooning me.
“You froze when I called you my love,” I mumble, voice gentle yet pleading.
She sighs against my forehead, resting her chin on my buzzed head. “I don’t think I can stop your nicknames. Just like you can’t stop mine.” She rubs her chin on me, “…Bristle-Head.”
Christ.
My shoulders shake with a silent laugh.
“Your five minutes are up,” she whispers, patting my bicep.
I groan, burying my face in the curve of her neck for one last second before I force myself—reluctantly, painfully—to pull away. “You’re mean,” I mutter.
She hums, rubbing at her eyes, her lashes fluttering as a yawn slips out. “And you’re weird.”
“Ack, you like me.”
“And you’re delusional too. Wow.”
I huff a quiet laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to her head—and freeze.
She stills too.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Because it felt so damn natural. Like a normal, familiar routine we’ve done a million times.
But it’s new. And heartbreakingly perfect.
A shy smile blooms on her lips.
And yeah… I’m done for.
I tilt her chin up and kiss her. Soft and slow. Like I’m relearning her.
She melts into it almost instantly, her breath hitching as she deepens the kiss. My hand comes up to cradle her jaw, steadying myself more than her.
God.
I smile against her mouth when she gasps, her fingers curling into my shirt, sliding over my chest—hesitant at first, then a little bolder.
I freeze momentarily when her fingers tuck into the waistband of my jeans.
“Charlotte…” I murmur, my voice rough.
She doesn’t stop.
“Christ, stop, my love,” I say breathlessly. “Please.”
“Why?” She whispers back, her lips brushing mine again—curious, testing, claiming.
Fuck.
My hands slide to her waist, holding her there, grounding both of us before either of us goes too far, too fast.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly, my forehead resting against hers.
Her answer isn’t words.
It’s the way she presses closer. The way her fingers tighten, pulling me closer.
“Theo…”
My eyes shut at the sound of my name on her lips.
“Jesus…” I breathe, pulling her into another kiss—deeper this time, but still careful. Still asking.
Still giving her the space to pull away.
She fucking doesn’t.
Fuck my life.
As much as I try, my hands slip under her t-shirt. She still doesn’t stop me—not even when my fingers brush right below her breasts. Hesitant.
She grabs my hand and pulls it up. Letting my trembling hand take a handful of her supple breast.
Flicking her peaked nipple, I squeeze gently. My whole body shaking with the need to take her. Right here.
I nearly crush her as I put a little of my weight on her. Her only response is her wandering hands.
My back, my neck… my fucking soul.
For a moment, the world narrows to just this—her warmth, her breath, the quiet, fragile thing building between us.
Then—
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Of course it does.
I drop my head into her neck with a quiet groan, my breath still uneven.
She lets out a soft, breathy laugh. “Get to work, Prez.”
I smile, but it falters almost immediately.
Prez.
Right. I’m the Prez now, aren’t I?
I exhale slowly, pressing lingering kisses from her neck to her jaw, then her cheek.
When I pull back, I see it—mirrored in her eyes.
That same awareness. The dreadful reality, waiting just outside this room.
I cup her face gently, pressing one firm, grounding kiss to her lips. Then her nose.
“I love you, Charlotte,” I whisper.
Before she can say anything—before she thinks I’m asking for something she might not be ready to give—I add lightly, “Lock up after me?”
It’s a coward’s exit.
But I don’t want to put weight on her words. Don’t want her to feel like she owes me something she’s still figuring out.
Her soft heart deserves better than that.
So I step back.
And leave before I can change my mind.