Chapter Ten #2
He listened to every word without interrupting.
When I finished, the kitchen was quiet -- just the soft hum of the refrigerator and the sound of my breathing, slightly faster than it had been a moment before.
My hand stayed pressed against my belly, my gaze fixed on the counter in front of me, my shoulders rigid beneath the thin cotton of my sleep shirt.
Then I felt him move. The heat of his body was suddenly right behind me before I could brace myself. His hands settled on my waist, gentle but certain, and he slowly turned me to face him.
“You do not get to decide what my life is or isn’t,” he said, voice low and steady.
“You don’t get to appoint yourself a burden.
I stood up in front of every patched member of the Reckless Kings and claimed you and those babies, and I did it with my eyes open.
No hesitation. No one holding a gun to my head.
” His gaze never wavered. “That’s not something you get to rewrite because your hormones are lying to you at three in the morning. ”
He leaned in just slightly. “You are mine. The babies are mine. Not by accident and not by obligation -- by my decision.”
He reached for me, one large hand coming to rest against my waist, his palm warm through the thin fabric. “Tell me you understand that. Tell me you know exactly what you’re doing when you try to put distance between us.”
My throat tightened. I blinked back the sting in my eyes, my shoulders finally dropping as the fight drained out of me. I set the glass down on the counter with careful hands and looked up at him, letting everything I’d been holding back show on my face.
“I want to be here,” I whispered. “Not because I have nowhere else to go, but because this is where I want to be. And you are who I want.”
Nitro pulled me in without another word.
His arms closed around me, strong and sure, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head while the other spread across the curve of my lower back.
I melted into him, fingers curling into his T-shirt as I tucked my face against his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of leather, soap, and him.
For a long moment we just stood there, holding each other.
Then his hand shifted, stroking slowly down my spine.
His touch grew heavier, more intentional.
I felt the change in his breathing as he tilted my chin up and kissed me -- soft at first, almost careful, then deeper, slower, like he was pouring everything he’d just said into the slide of his tongue against mine.
Heat bloomed low in my belly. I pressed closer, my swollen breasts brushing his chest through our clothes.
Nitro let out a quiet curse and backed me toward the counter until my hips pressed against the edge.
He lifted me onto it with ease, stepping between my thighs as he kept kissing me, unhurried and thorough.
He let his hands roam -- sliding under my sleep shirt, palms warm against my bare skin.
He cupped the heavy curve of my belly for a moment, reverent, before moving higher to caress my breasts.
I gasped softly when his thumbs circled my sensitive nipples.
He broke the kiss only to tug my shirt up and off, dropping it somewhere behind him.
Then his mouth was on me again, hot and wet, sucking one aching nipple while his hand kneaded the other.
I moaned, my head falling back as I threaded my fingers through his hair.
He took his time, licking and sucking until I was squirming against him, wetness already soaking my panties.
Only then did he straighten, pulling his own shirt off in one smooth motion.
I reached for the waistband of his sweats, but he caught my wrist gently and brought my hand to his chest instead.
“Not yet,” he murmured against my lips. “I want to feel you fall apart first.”
He hooked his fingers in my panties and slid them down my legs, letting them fall to the floor.
Then he dropped to his knees, spread my thighs wider, and put his mouth on me -- slow, deliberate licks that made my toes curl.
He eased two fingers eased inside me, curling just right while his tongue circled my clit with devastating patience.
He built me up steadily, never rushing, until my legs were trembling and I was panting his name.
Only when I was right on the edge did he stand, shove his sweats down, and line himself up. He pushed in slowly, stretching me open inch by thick inch until he was buried to the hilt. We both groaned. For a moment he stayed there, forehead pressed to mine, letting me adjust around him.
Then he started moving -- long, deep strokes that gradually built in strength and speed. One hand braced on the counter, the other cradled the back of my neck as he fucked me with steady, possessive thrusts. The kitchen filled with the wet sound of our bodies meeting and my soft, broken moans.
“Come on, mama,” he rasped against my ear. “Let me feel it.”
I shattered hard around him, crying out as pleasure crashed through me. Nitro followed with a deep groan, burying himself deep and pulsing inside me as he came.
He stayed buried in me afterward, arms wrapped tight around my body, kissing my temple, my cheek, my lips -- slow and tender.
“Never doubt where you belong again,” he whispered.