Chapter 68
CHAPTER
SIXTY-EIGHT
CHASSIS
The room is quiet. The only noise is playing in the distance from the party out in the bar area. The door opens. Standing beside the bed, I lift my head and watch as he walks through the door.
He sways slightly, but not enough that I think he’s trashed. I hear the bedroom door slam behind him, and then he lifts his gaze. Those hazel eyes meet mine, and I swear I could melt into a puddle right here and now.
“Amos,” I exhale.
He smirks, taking one step forward, then another. “Yeah, Skel?” he asks as he closes the distance between us.
“You meant it when you said you loved me and that this baby was ours, both of ours?” I ask.
He arches a brow, his lips twitching into a smirk. He takes another step forward before he stops. He’s so close to me that it wouldn’t take much for him to reach out and touch me. Silently, I beg for him to do just that.
“Claimed you and that baby the minute we were married, sweetheart. But yes. You’re mine, both of you—forever.”
I press my lips together, rolling them a few times, then let my breath out in an exhale.
“I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m the reason all this happened. I’m the reason Rocky is dead and Samuil is wherever. I’m the reason the entire Iron Flame MC is now working with the Bratva. It’s all my fault.”
My words come out in a rush. I feel like I’m just repeating myself, but it’s how I feel, and I need to know that everything is okay. The guilt that consumes me is almost unbearable. But when Amos’s palm cups my cheek, his thumb gliding across my skin, I melt a little.
He lowers his head, our lips almost touching. I feel his forehead press against mine, and then he lets out an exhale. My eyes slide closed, and I inhale his scent. He smells like leather and whiskey.
When I feel his lips touch mine, a thrill of excitement slides up my spine. It’s a gentle kiss, but inwardly, I yearn for it to be filthy. He grips my hips with his fingers, holding on to me tightly.
My lips part, a silent invitation for his tongue, and thankfully, he takes it. I feel his tongue glide inside my mouth. He tastes me completely, tangling his tongue with my own, and then he nips my bottom lip, tugging on the flesh there as he breaks the kiss.
Opening my eyes, I look up at him, my breathing coming out heavy as I attempt to catch my breath from the kiss. His hazel eyes own me as he searches my gaze. Amos’s hands release my hips, then dance up my spine, tangling in my hair.
When he tilts his head to the side, his lips touch mine again, this time with only a brush and not with the depth I crave. But when he tugs my head back by my hair, I know he’s going for my throat, and I happily accept it.
His lips and tongue travel down my chin, then my throat, stopping at the hollow before he releases my hair and takes a step backward. Straightening, I look into his eyes, and my breath hitches because it’s not the expression I expect to see.
He’s staring at me, his thoughts and emotions shuttered behind his hazel gaze. “This conversation is only going to happen this one time, and then it’s dropped—forever.”
My tongue slips out, and I slide it across my bottom lip. “Only once,” I agree.
But I don’t really agree. No doubt I’ll be bringing this up again. My guilt won’t let me just release it into the wild. I definitely need to be reassured about a million and five times that nobody hates me.
In the past, when I was young, my quick and not-thought-out decisions only affected me. Until I met Samuil, until this baby was conceived, and until I married this man. I see now that any decision I make can affect hundreds of people. This kind of power isn’t for me, and I hate every second of it.
“Sweetheart,” he growls.
My heart races at the word. The way he says it—the tone—forces me to press my legs together tightly. I want him.
I ache for him—desperately.
“Nobody is fucking mad about this shit. There is nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing to feel bad about. And when it comes to that cunt Rocky, she got exactly what she deserved. Samuil didn’t. I’d prefer if they shared the same space in hell, but I didn’t get that option.”
He reaches out, pressing his palm against my belly, and the ache between my legs grows even more intense. It throbs. I want him again so damn badly. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.
“Nobody is upset, sweetheart. I fucking promise you that. This isn’t a bad deal. It wasn’t something we sought out, but swear to fuck, it’s not a bad deal. So no more bullshit about feeling bad about it, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, but I’m not sure he believes me.
Thankfully, he slams his mouth against mine and kisses me. The conversation is now over. All thoughts of guilt, Russians, and clubwhores leave my mind. There is only him and me. There is only us. And there is this moment—together. And then… forever.