Chapter 63
CHAPTER
SIXTY-THREE
DARE
She’s standing in front of me, a sight for sore eyes. A sight I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of. I stare at her, soaking her up and in. Watching her in silence and wondering how in the ever-loving fuck I didn’t see it months ago.
Sure, I knew she was beautiful, curvy in all the right places, even with her pregnancy, but I didn’t truly see it, or rather, I didn’t allow myself to see it, maybe. I don’t know what the case is, but I’m seeing it now.
Lust. Love. Whatever the fuck you want to call it, I’m in deep with this girl. I shouldn’t. I’m too old for her. She’s too perfect for me. She deserves someone better, but I’m not a big enough man to walk away from her.
She’s mine.
Forever.
“Chassis,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I shake my head once, taking one step toward her, then another. Reaching out, I curl my fingers around the side of her throat. I don’t break eye contact. I can’t. She’s here in front of me. It’s real, and holy fucking shit, just touching her feels amazing.
My cock twitches, pressing against the zipper of my jeans, silently begging to be inside her. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Skel.”
Chassis moves her head from side to side, her gaze staying focused on mine.
“Amos,” she whispers, “there is. I went behind your back to talk to Samuil, thinking I could do something different, and ended up making a huge mess of things. Now you’re in bed with them even deeper, and it’s all my fault. Or maybe you’re not. I don’t know.”
She’s rambling, likely because she thinks I’m pissed or something. I don’t know. I’m not mad at all, but I realize that this entire situation could have been avoided had we both communicated with one another.
Ten years ago, I don’t think I would have accepted my own blame in the way this shit went down. I probably would have laid it all on her shoulders. That’s the type of president, husband, and father my dad was. I am aiming to be different than him… in every fucking way possible.
“I don’t fucking care,” I state. “It happened, and what’s done is done. You didn’t do anything maliciously. You were just trying to help, but maybe next time, let me know before you run off to fix shit, yeah?”
Her lips part, and her eyes widen at my words. “Seriously?” she asks softly. “You’re not pissed?”
My fingers flex against the side of her throat before I shake my head again, just once, never breaking eye contact. “No, sweetheart. I’m not pissed.”
“What happens now?”
I should tell her that what happens now is she sucks my dick, I eat her out, then I fuck her, and we head home. But I know that’s not what she means. I mean, that’s going to happen next, but right now, she wants to know about the club, the Bratva, and she wants to know about her father.
“Your Dad and I have agreed to a plan. We’ve discussed things with the Bratva, and while contracts are still being negotiated, everyone has agreed to the terms.”
“Samuil?” she asks without hesitation.
“He’s been moved to Russia and will not be an issue. Of course, I’m sure that Gauge told you Rocky has been taken care of?”
Chassis slides her tongue along her bottom lip, her eyes searching mine for a moment in silence before she speaks. “But you’re not going to tell me the terms the Bratva offered?”
I knew she was going to ask that. Gliding my thumb along her bottom lip, tracing the same path as her tongue, I tug on the flesh slightly. I watch her nostrils flare with what I hope is fucking desire—because I feel that shit coursing through my goddamn veins.
“I’m not going to tell you club business, Skel,” I murmur. “But know that it’s all good. The contract is decent, not perfect, and it puts money in the club’s pockets across the country. Can’t bitch about that. It’s mutually beneficial.”
She smiles softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s worried, and I don’t blame her. What we’ve been doing, planning, and ultimately accepting is nothing like what we thought it would be. I can see how it can be confusing to her, to anyone. But Cake is accepting of the situation, for now.
Probably not forever, but for now.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers. “What happens when it’s not mutually beneficial any longer?”
Sweet. This woman who worries about her father, her brothers, and maybe even me, too, is beyond fucking sweet. My fingers flex against her throat. Shifting my face forward, I touch my lips to hers.
“Then we make sure that is mutually beneficial again,” I murmur against her lips. “Now,” I say, “no more talking.”
Pressing my lips against hers, I slip my tongue inside her mouth, tasting her fully and tangling my tongue with hers. She tastes absolutely fucking amazing. Like a goddamn dream—like my dream.