Chapter 26 Bones #2
We lie there panting, tangled and sticky.
Emma’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, soothing the scratches she left earlier, and I press a kiss to her forehead, tasting salt.
The room spins a little, the high of release mixing with the bone-deep exhaustion from the night, but right now, with her heart hammering against mine, nothing else exists.
“Was that ruined enough for you?” I murmur, my voice gravelly as I lift my head to meet her eyes.
She smiles, slow and satisfied, her cheeks still flushed. “I think you might have gone easy on me. Might need a round two to be sure.”
I chuckle, the sound rumbling in my chest, and roll to the side, shifting her with me so she’s still draped over me, but her bad ankle is now propped carefully on my leg. “Give me five minutes, swan. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Liar.” She nuzzles into my neck, her breath warm against my skin. “You could go all night if I asked.”
“True. But then you’d be the one begging for mercy.
” I run my fingers through her hair, untangling the knots, and for a moment it’s perfect—just us, no club, no threats, no blood on my hands.
But reality creeps in, the weight of what I did tonight settling like lead in my gut.
Carlos’s face flashes in my mind, the way his eyes went wide when he realized who we were.
Emma must sense the shift because she props herself up on one elbow, searching my face. “You’re thinking about tonight.”
I don’t deny it. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t push, just traces the tattoo over my heart—the swan I got for her years ago, when missing her felt like a constant bruise. “Does it . . . help? Knowing you can just . . . put someone down if they threaten what you care about?”
I nod, pulling her closer. “It helps. But it’s not over. Summit’s still out there, still pushing. Tonight was just one loose end.”
She nods, her fingers still tracing that old ink on my chest like she’s mapping out every regret I’ve ever carried. “I know it’s not over. What happens now? With Vernick, Summit . . . all of it?”
I stroke her back, feeling the ridge of her spine under my palm.
“We keep pushing. The zoning hearing’s coming up—Josie’s prepping the community to show up in force.
And Axel and I are digging deeper into Vernick’s donors, see if we can expose more ties to Summit before the election heats up.
If we play it right, we box them in legally, make it too hot for them to keep buying up the east side. ”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s steel in it, that fighter’s edge she’s always had.
“Then we do what the MC does best. We protect what’s ours.
” I tilt her chin up, make her look at me.
“But you need to promise me something—if you get scared again, there can’t be any more running off into the woods.
And no more stealing cars. You feel that panic coming, you grab me, your dad, anyone.
I need you strong, swan. Can you do that for me? ”
She bites her lip, nods. “I promise,” she says. “No more running.”
“Good girl.” I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, swan. So fucking much it scares me sometimes.”
“Good boy.” I feel her smile against my chest. “I love you too. Even when you make me wait downstairs with Ginger while you’re out doing dark things.”
“Especially then,” I correct. “That’s when you prove you’re really in this.”
She lifts her head to look at me. “I am in this. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Forever, then.” I cup her face. “That work for you?”
“Forever works for me.” She leans in and kisses me—soft at first, then deeper. I can taste the promise in it, the commitment.
When she pulls back, her eyes are dark again, that heat returning. “So about that five minutes . . .”
“Already?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You said I could go all night if I asked.” She shifts on top of me. “So I’m asking.”
I grip her hips, feeling myself already responding. “Your ankle—”
“Is fine in this position.” She rolls her hips, making me groan. “See? Ballerinas are super flexible. No pressure on it at all.”
“Fuck, Emma.”
“That’s the idea.”
The growl that comes out of me isn’t even human.
I flip her onto her back, and she laughs—breathless and beautiful.
Her laughter turns into a gasp as I settle between her thighs, my hands pinning her wrists above her head again because I love the way she arches when she’s restrained, all that dancer’s grace turned liquid and desperate under me.
I kiss her hard, tongue sweeping in to claim every inch, and she meets me with equal fire, her hips bucking up to grind against my hardening cock.
“Greedy little swan,” I murmur, nipping her bottom lip. “You sure you can take more?”
“Try me,” she challenges, and I capture her mouth with mine, moving with her as I lose myself in her again—the taste of her, the feel of her, the knowledge that she’s mine and I’m hers and nothing will change that.
Not Summit. Not Vernick. And certainly not Carlos . . .