Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DELILAH
T he first thing I noticed when I woke up was the scent. Ryder’s scent. It clung to the sheets, the pillows, the air itself—a mix of leather, smoke, and something purely him. It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.
For days, I’d been holed up in Ryder’s room, trying to piece myself back together after everything that had happened. The bruises were fading, but the memories weren’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes—the Serpents’ compound, the cold steel of the chains, the sound of gunfire. And then Ryder, bursting through the door like a goddamn hurricane, his eyes wild, his voice raw as he swore he’d never let anything happen to me again.
He kept that promise. I was here, alive, and so was the baby. But as I stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled roar of engines outside the clubhouse, I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.
Ryder was seated in the corner, his chair tilted back against the wall, one booted foot resting on the other knee. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep. He was too tense for that. His gun sat on the table beside him, never far from reach.
“Ryder,” I said softly.
His eyes snapped open instantly, locking onto mine. For a moment, the tension in his body eased, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Kitten,” he murmured, his voice rough from disuse. “How are you feeling?”
I hesitated, unsure how to answer. Physically, I was healing. The doc said the baby was strong and that I was lucky. But emotionally? Mentally? I felt like I was standing on a cliff’s edge, the ground crumbling beneath me.
“I’m… here,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
He frowned, rising to his feet and crossing the room in a few quick strides. His presence was overwhelming, but I didn’t pull away when he perched on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.
“That’s not an answer,” he said, his tone softer now.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “I don’t know how to answer.”
His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment, his hand falling to his lap. “I hate seeing you like this,” he admitted, his voice low. “If I could trade places with you…”
“You can’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “You can’t fix this, Ryder. You can’t undo what happened. And I—” My voice broke, and I sucked in a shaky breath, willing myself not to cry.
His hand found mine, his grip firm but not demanding. “Talk to me,” he urged. “Tell me what you need.”
I closed my eyes, gathering the courage to say what I’d been avoiding since the moment he’d brought me back here. “I need to know what happens next. Not with the Serpents, or the Vipers, or any of the other shit outside that door. I need to know what happens to us. With this baby?”
His silence was deafening. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, his brows drawn together in a frown.
“You want to know what happens next?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze head-on. “Because I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I can’t raise a baby in a place where danger is always lurking, where the sound of engines and gunfire is part of daily life. This baby deserves more than a bed in an MC compound, Ryder. And so do I.”
The words hung between us like a guillotine, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out, that his temper would flare the way it always did when he was cornered. But instead, he leaned back slightly, his hand running through his hair as he exhaled a long, unsteady breath.
“I know,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.
“You know?” I repeated, the weight of his admission catching me off guard.
“I know this life isn’t what you want,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s not what you deserve. But it’s all I’ve ever known, Kitten. It’s who I am.”
I reached out, my fingers brushing against his. “I’m not asking you to leave the Crimson Reapers, Ryder. I know what this club means to you. I’m asking you to think about who we could be. Together. For this baby.”
His head lifted, his eyes meeting mine. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked vulnerable. Lost.
“What does that even look like?” he asked, his voice raw.
I hesitated, the image in my mind as fragile as a dream. “It looks like a home. A real home. Somewhere safe, where we don’t have to look over our shoulders every second of the day. Where our child can grow up surrounded by love and stability. I need that, Ryder. And I need to know if we can build it together.”
He didn’t answer right away. His hand tightened around mine, his grip like a lifeline as he wrestled with the weight of my words.
“I don’t know how to balance this life and what you need,” he admitted finally, his voice shaking. “But I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
“Then figure it out,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “Because I won’t live like my mother did. I know the MC is your family, but I’ll never be okay with you fucking someone else, Ryder. And I won’t let our child grow up thinking the club is the only thing they can ever be.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something shift—a spark, a promise.
“I’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady now. “For you. For the baby. I’ll figure it out.”
It wasn’t a solution, not yet. But it was a start. And for now, that was enough.
I shifted on the bed, my body stiff and aching in places I didn’t want to think about. The weight of days spent lying here pressed down on me, and I let out a shaky breath. “I need a shower,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ryder’s head turned toward me immediately. “I’ll help you,” he said without hesitation.
“I can do it,” I started, but the look he shot me stopped me in my tracks.
“Kitten, you can barely stand without wobbling like a baby deer,” he said, his voice laced with equal parts concern and determination. “Let me help.”
The thought of needing his help was equal parts frustrating and comforting. But I nodded, knowing he was right.
He stood and moved to the side of the bed, extending a hand to me. “Come on. Take it slow.”
With his help, I managed to sit up, the effort more draining than I’d expected. His hand was strong and steady as he guided me to my feet, keeping me upright when my knees wobbled. He didn’t say a word about it, just held me close, his presence grounding me as we moved toward the small en suite bathroom.
Ryder reached in to turn on the water, testing the temperature with his hand. Then, without a word, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His boots, jeans, and boxers followed, leaving him in nothing. He moved back to me, his expression calm and steady as he reached for the oversized T-shirt I’d been wearing. His hands were careful and respectful but firm as he helped me out of it, letting it drop to the floor.
Without hesitation, he guided me toward the shower, his hands warm against my skin as he helped me step under the stream of water as he followed.
The water hit my back, and I let out a sigh of relief, the warmth easing some of the tension in my muscles. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice softer now. “Thank you.”
He nodded, but his eyes stayed locked on me, a mix of worry and something deeper flickering in their depths. “You don’t have to thank me, Kitten. You’re mine to take care of.”
The words sent a shiver through me, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the water or the way he said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time in days, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel: hope.
It wasn’t a solution, not yet. But it was a start. And for now, that was enough.”
He nodded, his eyes searching mine with concern. "Let me help you," he murmured, reaching for the soap. His gentle hands glided over my skin, working up a lather as the steam swirled around us. I closed my eyes, losing myself in his touch and the soothing cascade of water.
"Turn around," he said softly, and I complied, feeling his strong fingers work into the knots in my shoulders. I let out a small moan of relief as the tension began to melt away. The scent of lavender filled the air, mingling with the steam.
His hands moved lower, massaging my back in slow, soothing circles. The warm water cascaded over us as he worked his way down, kneading away the aches and stress of the day. I sighed contentedly, relishing his tender ministrations.
Gently, he turned me to face him again. His eyes roamed over me appreciatively as he lathered more soap in his hands. He started at my neck, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across my collarbone and down to my chest. When he reached my breasts, he cupped them softly, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. I gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch. He squeezed lightly, eliciting a throaty moan from me as pleasure bloomed through my body.
His hands glided lower, caressing my stomach and hips. I trembled with anticipation as his fingers traced the curve of my waist. Slowly, teasingly, he moved downward. When he reached the apex of my thighs, I parted my legs instinctively. His finger slid through my folds, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. He explored me gently, his touch feather-light yet electric.
Finding my sensitive bud, he began to circle it with agonizing slowness. Waves of sensation radiated outward as he increased the pressure and speed. I clutched his shoulders, my breath coming in short pants. The warm water continued to cascade over us as he pleasured me, heightening every touch.
My hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against his hand. He slipped a finger inside me, curling it just so as his thumb circled my most sensitive spot. A moan escaped my lips as waves of pleasure rippled through my body. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as the sensations intensified.
"Ryder," I gasped, my voice husky with desire.
"Does that feel good?" Ryder murmured, his voice low and husky in my ear.
"Yes," I gasped, barely able to form words as he continued his ministrations. "Don't stop."
Ryder's lips found my neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along my throat. His teeth grazed my pulse point, and I shuddered, a jolt of electricity shooting straight to my core.
My fingers tangled in his hair as he continued his sensual assault. Ryder's hands roamed my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He pressed me against the wall, his muscular form pinning me in place.
He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "All mine."
"Tell me who you belong to," Ryder demanded, his voice husky with need.
"You," I breathed. "Only you, Ryder."
His lips crashed against mine in a searing kiss, stealing my breath away. I melted into him, overwhelmed by the intensity of our connection. When we finally broke apart, panting, his eyes were dark with passion.
"Only I get to touch you like this," Ryder said, his tone possessive. "Only I get to make you feel this way."
His fingers probed deeper, stroking me from within. I gasped as he added a second finger, stretching me deliciously. Ryder began to pump his fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm that had me writhing against the shower wall.
"That's it," he purred. "Let go for me, Delilah."
His thumb circled my sensitive bud as his fingers curled inside me, hitting just the right spot. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core with each thrust of his fingers. I clung to his shoulders, my legs trembling as the sensations intensified.
Ryder's lips found my breast, suckling and teasing as his fingers worked their magic. The dual stimulation was overwhelming. I felt myself climbing higher and higher, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
"Ryder, please," I whimpered.
"What do you need, Delilah?" he murmured, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
"I need... I need..." The words caught in my throat as his clever fingers intensified their ministrations. Stars burst behind my eyelids as waves of pleasure crashed over me. My back arched off the bed as I cried out his name, my release finally washing through me in pulsing waves.
Ryder held me close as I shuddered and gasped, peppering soft kisses along my collarbone. As the aftershocks subsided, I felt boneless and sated. He brushed damp strands of hair from my forehead, gazing at me with tender affection.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said softly. Then went to work washing my body again.
His hands moved gently, the warm water cascading over my skin as he worked. The soft sponge glided across my shoulders, leaving trails of fragrant soap bubbles in its wake. I closed my eyes, letting out a contented sigh as the tension began to melt away.
He took extra care around the scrapes and bruises, his touch feather-light as he cleaned away the dirt and grime. The bathroom filled with steam, wrapping us in a cocoon of warmth. Rivulets ran down my back, carrying away the day's troubles.
"There now," he murmured, fingers working through my tangled hair. "Almost done." The shampoo's lavender scent enveloped me as he massaged my scalp, easing the lingering headache.
When he was finished, he wrapped me in a fluffy towel, rubbing my arms to warm me. The soft terry cloth tickled my skin, and I felt myself relaxing into its embrace. Droplets of water trickled down my neck, leaving cool trails that made me shiver slightly.
He guided me to sit on the edge of his bed while he found a T-shirt.
"Here, this should be comfortable," he said, helping me guide my arms through the sleeves.
The shirt engulfed me, hanging loose on my smaller frame. It smelled like him - a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely Ryder. I inhaled deeply, savoring the comforting scent.
Ryder knelt before me, gently toweling my hair dry. His fingers worked through the damp strands, careful not to tug or pull. The repetitive motion was soothing, and I felt my eyelids growing heavy.
“Lie down,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate deep in my chest. “You need sleep, Kitten.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him there was too much running through my mind for rest to come, but his steady presence and the warmth of his care chipped away at my resolve. With his help, I shifted back onto the bed, my head sinking into the pillow. His shirt was like a cocoon, wrapping me in a sense of safety I hadn’t felt in days.
Ryder stood and pulled the blanket up over me, tucking it around my shoulders. “I’ll be right here,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against my temple.
I let out a soft sigh, my eyes fluttering shut as his scent, his touch, and his voice wove a cocoon around me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel the weight of the world pressing down on me. I felt him, steady and unshakable, holding the pieces together. And as sleep claimed me, I held onto that hope like a lifeline.
It wasn’t a solution, not yet. But it was a start. And for now, that was enough.”
.