by Rie Warren
Angel—asshole—reached forward. “I can take that to her.”
I’d have liked to chew through his outstretched arm.
Instead I glared at him in my grimmest possible manner. “I’d like to give it to Grace myself.”
That bastard’s dancing eyes screamed ‘I just bet you would’.
And my glare threatened back, ‘I’m gonna kill you dead’.
Mercy intervened. She pushed her fiancé back and widened the door for my entry.
Then she called up the stairs that mounted two floors up from the lower hallway, “Grace! Hon! Visitor for you.”
She and Angel prodded me to a sitting room that was equal parts domestic and . . . diesel? Cushiony couches and chairs on which a couple helmets sat made a wide circle. And over the mantle of the fireplace hung a wood-carved replica of the Blood Legion colors, just the same as the emblem carved into the table in the MC chapel.
I cleared my throat, looking pointedly at the blond-capped prez who grinned fiendishly.
And that motherfucker took a seat right beside the fireplace.
I’m gonna kill you after I dismember you.
Just then Pit and Bull scrabbled madly into the room, tongues out and tails wagging. Pit was tan, Bull was gray and white, and they both made a beeline for me.
Happy for the distraction, I bent down to give the friendly dogs lots of scratches and attention.
But that motherfucker Angel whistled both canines to him and had them sit on either side of him. And then all three of them watched me.
I swore to hell, Pit and Bull grinned too.
“Angel, for goodness sake.” With an air of indulgent impatience, Mercy used all her tiny weight to tug him up. “Remind me to teach you some manners sometime before we get married.”
He groaned and grunted but let her handle him.
She tossed him the dog leashes.
He dutifully attached them to Pit and Bull’s collars.
And I watched as she passed his leather to him, and he placed hers over her shoulders and tucked a scarf around her neck.
“Teach me manners? You’re too busy teaching me new positions.” He angled down for a kiss.
She indulged him again.
Then she dragged him—and the pit bulls—from the house.
I chuckled as they finally made themselves scarce.
Then I didn’t even feel the cold that had bitten into my cheeks from outside when Grace stepped serenely into the room.
I was too busy feeling flummoxed.
Hazel eyes shining brightly, she stood there with her hands folded atop her tummy.
She had a way of making my heart weightless, my head spin . . . my groin tighten.
Then I blurted out, “Whoa. You’ve gotten bigger.”
“Words, Killian.”
Chapter Fifteen
GRACE
THERE STOOD MY UNLIKELY hero, looking as nervous as I felt and saying things that made him screw his lips up immediately afterward.
I supposed I did look bigger. I wore a snug sweater top that emphasized the swell of my belly. I’d only seen Killian briefly during the intervening weeks, and he hadn’t even kissed me properly on New Year’s Eve.
And I already knew verbal tact wasn’t his strong suit.
I felt bigger—and happier—than ever before, except for one big nettling concern: why was Killian avoiding me?
Even the few times I’d ventured to the bar—but never again up to his room—he stood apart from me. Watching me with a disquieting sort of attention as he tipped back a drink, he didn’t smile at me or invite me to him.
Was that heat in his eyes, or relief that the whole affair was over?
Roark Finnegan—mayoral candidate and my worst nightmare—was disgraced. The story was splashed all over the news, not to mention his complicit wife.
That part of my life was over.
The rest just beginning, with or without Killian.
I’d gotten to know the other biker men. They all appeared gruff on the outside, but they didn’t fool me one bit. I’d heard how they’d banded together to save Mercy. I saw how they’d tried to come to my aid. I felt, daily and in one form or the other, their welcome. Maybe it was just a smile and a nod. An invitation to hang out at the tattoo parlor they owned along with the bar. It was there I learned the man called Saint had found the first clue about me because of the stack of flyers bearing my photo he kept waving at customers. Chase, the younger man, always mixed me up healthy shakes instead of what I came to know as highly alcoholic pussy drinks. Sol with his vittles. And Revenge, the one who’d carefully handled me the day I’d shown up at Thunder Road with no money to pay the cab.
Above all, Mercy and Angel who had taken me in, made me feel at home, and provided so much more than a roof over my head.
Living with the two of them gave me hope, but I’d have to find someplace permanent soon with the baby due in early summer and their wedding coming up faster than that.
“I didn’t mean big as in bad.” Killian snapped my attention back to him.
He stepped closer, firelight filtering in hazy red and oranges behind him. “You’re gorgeous. Glowing . . . Aw, shit. I’ve missed you.”
He stopped before touching me, but his eyes caromed over my face with the same searing intensity I remembered.
I’d missed him too, so much my heart banged in my chest at his proximity. Big and broad, he filled the room with his strength. He’d made an effort before coming to see me, which did something else strange and tight to my chest. He’d given himself a tight shave, the beard clipped neatly and forming crisp lines on his neck and cheeks. I even thought I caught a hint of aftershave or cologne, something earthy and woodsy mingling with his normal scents of tobacco and leather. He wore old jeans, scuffed boots, the leather jacket, and a snug thermal the exact indigo shade as his irises.
I blinked and blushed at having been caught staring, and I’d still said no more than two words to him.
Lord, he made my heart flutter.
Pacing back, he picked something up then rounded toward me again.
“Hot chocolate,” he offered, holding out a cardboard cup and taking one for himself.
When I accepted the drink, our fingers brushed.
An electric jolt pinged straight up my spine.
I glanced up to see if he felt it too.
Eyes shaded, he watched as I peeled off the plastic lid on the hot cocoa and, when I inhaled the rich aroma, the muscle at the back of his jaw tensed.
Cocoa topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.
“Mmm,” I murmured after the first decadent sip.
When I glanced at Killian again, he leaned forward.
Voice at a husky timbre, he said, “You got some whipped cream here.”
His thumb rose, and he swiped at the corner of my lips.
Then he brought the pad of his thumb to his mouth and slowly licked the puff of cream.
Breath leaving me in a gasp, I stared at the firm line of his lips, remembering how warm and full they were against mine.
Instant heady reaction clamored through me—a swelling heat below, a tautness above.
Breaking the spell, he handed me a large bag all decorated in little snowmen dressed in colorful hats. “Sit with me a minute?”
I followed him to one of the loveseats, and we sat side by side, and then he reached a long arm across to place an extra cushion behind my lower back, which usually ached.
I peered at him.
He kept his face averted.
“Didn’t get a chance to really tell you merry Christmas. Or happy New Year.” His cheeks took on a ruddy hue above the black beard then he blurted, “Don’t even know when your birthday is.”
A wonderful twist of happiness made me blush as well.
“It’s in April. I’ll be twenty-seven.”
“I’m thirty.” Then he frowned and gestured to the bag I clutched. “Go on then.”
I took out the first present, exa
mining the perfectly taped-down corners. “Did you wrap these?”
“Shit no.”
I chuckled and carefully pulled back the paper to reveal a box. From inside, wrapped in tissue paper, I lifted out the most adorable towel in buttery yellow that had an attached hood designed like a duck’s face.
“For the baby.” He flapped a hand, just once.
I bit down on a laugh before it burbled out. “I gathered. Don’t imagine it would fit me.”
A smile peeped at the corners of his mouth.
Next I unwrapped a soft plushy bear, bigger than the first he’d given me.
His hand whipped out, and he turned the bear around. With quick motions he unzipped a hidden toggle and spread the fleece open.
“So, it’s a sound machine thing. Ocean waves, rainfall, that kind of stuff.” He handed the bear back to me and shrugged. “Lady at the store said noises like that help babies sleep.”
My hands shaking, eyes welling, I carefully placed the bear next to the towel on the coffee table.
I opened the biggest package, and my jaw dropped.
I sniffled.
He’d given me the most beautiful patchwork quilt, crib-sized and embroidered with barnyard animals of all types.
“Woman at the market makes them. Probably would’ve been something Mercy’s memaw would do. I know she wasn’t your grandmother, but . . .”
“Oh, Killian,” I could barely choke out.
So thoughtful. So considerate. So caring.
After I got my tears under control without letting any of the drops fall, I squeezed his hands.
I couldn’t say anything else.
He reached inside his leather and presented me with one last gift. “This one’s for you.”
Lifting my eyes to his, I took in the sight of him. He sucked in one cheek and looked slightly uncomfortable, but his gaze remained riveted on the present I held. A flat, square box wrapped in gold foil and gauzy ribbons.
I ripped off the paper and opened the lid of the black velvet box. Gasping, I pulled out the heavy gold bangle, simply designed with a rose gold nugget shaping the clasp.
“Never bought jewelry for a woman before.”
I was so very touched, but I teased, “So you’ve bought jewelry for men?”
His head popped up, and he smiled swiftly before that smile shaded into something else.
“It’s gorgeous.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. Will you help me put it on?”
Holding out my wrist, I studied him as he bent over my arm. Sooty lashes that had no right being so long on a man swept across his cheekbones, and that frown burrowed deeper between his eyes.
My skin sizzled wherever he touched.
“There.” Voice rumbling, he held my hand a moment longer, rubbing a circle over the rapid pulse in my wrist.
“I got something for you too.” Slowly laboring up from the couch—touched anew when he rose to his feet too—I sauntered to the bookcase and pulled down a long rectangular package.
“I don’t need anything.”
Yet there was an eager glint to his dark blue eyes.
“Okay. I’ll just give it to someone else then.”
He snatched the gift from me. “No you won’t.”
Killian wasn’t half as patient as me when he ripped into the paper. He pried the lid of the box open and looked inside.
Giving a low whistle, he looked up at me.
“That’s damn nice looking.” He hefted the hand-tooled sheath, turned it over in his palm, and traced the words etched into leather: Killian Slade. “Damn nice,” he repeated, his tone huskier.
Without further ado, he unsnapped the old sheath, stuck it in the box, and slid his blade into its new home with a whisper of metal on leather.
“Is that a new knife?” Though as wicked looking as the one I was used to, the grip of this blade wasn’t worn with the imprint of his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Was something wrong with the other one?”
He pinched his lips tight, and I could tell for some reason he didn’t want to say anything.
“Not exactly,” he slowly admitted. “See, I named the other one after my friend Bo’s wife. Because we saved her once, and she’s got this red hair—all fiery and determined even when she could’ve been broken.”
“I see.” My lips pruned, jealousy at the fiery redheaded woman I’d never met pulsing through me.
One of his eyebrows hooked up. “Anyway, Bo got kind of sick of me calling my knife Veronica after his woman, so he sent me this one for Christmas.”
“Have you named it?” I asked tartly.
Avoiding my gaze, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Uhhh. Yeah. Named it Grace.” He turned his face to mine. “To remind me. Not to invoke your name or anything if I have to do bad things, but to remind me of your strength and . . . I guess . . . No. I know. About honor. And life.”
But he didn’t say love.
In fact, he’d only ever said he loved me once.
A wellspring of burst emotions flooded up, too fast to dam down.
“Is this goodbye then?” I asked.
He straightened up. “What?”
“Your mission is done.”
He scowled. “You aren’t a mission to me. You never were.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” Drawing closer to me, he notched my chin so I’d meet his burning gaze. “Don’t you remember what I said?”
When the realization hit me—that he still felt the same, that he really did love me—I took a deep breath that fluttered inside my chest.
Then I thought perhaps I could tease him for a second, and I murmured, “Well, you don’t say a lot, do you?”
“Grace.” The earnestness of his expression couldn’t be denied.
I touched my heart and then my temple.
He nodded, throat bobbing roughly.
Then I reached out, and I rested my palm against his chest where his heart thudded. My other hand rose to cup the side of his face, fingertips against his temple.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
Eyes flaring wide, he looked at me in full silence before the biggest smile broke across his face.
“Why did you stay away from me?” I asked, his heart still hammering beneath my hand.
“To give you time and space. I didn’t want to force you into anything. Wasn’t even sure you felt the same. Do you believe there was one single second I wasn’t thinking about you? Jesus. Since I met you . . . it’s just you, Grace.”
“It’s just you for me too.”
His face suffused with heat, and his lips parted as he inhaled raggedly. “Can I kiss you now?”
“I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”
The swoop of his mouth over mine wasn’t so much a kiss as a coming home.
Captured in his arms, I twined my tongue with his. My hands fell from his shoulders to his lean waist . . . then to his ass. Despite the bulk of my belly, he pressed closer until his hardness wedged up right where I needed him.
A keening noise left my throat as he rocked into me, bringing solace then greedy seduction.
A homecoming then a hard needing.
Breaking apart with lips shiny and wet, and breaths driven deep, we shared a moment of delicious anticipation.
The next second, Killian scooped me into his arms. “Where’s your room?”
“Upstairs.” Then I added, even though I felt weightless in his embrace, “I’m going to break your back one of these days.”
He covered my mouth with his, silencing my shy protestations.
In the bedroom, he kicked the door closed.
He set me on my feet and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. “Should we be having sex under Angel’s roof?”
“They fuck all the time.”
When I said fuck, Killian’s eyes blazed like braziers.
“Don’t you want to?” I purred
.
In answer, he brought my hand to the prominent evidence of just how much he wanted to, and he throbbed beneath my skating fingers.
I leaned up for another liquid kiss. “Lock the door if you’re worried. But Angel and Mercy aren’t about to interrupt us.”
Reaching behind his back, he snicked the lock into place.
Then he turned on me with a purely predatory look that sculpted the planes of his face into slanting strokes.
His leather jacket came off first, and he shucked his boots at the same time.
Standing a pace apart from him, I shed my sweater, wrangling the material up over the dome of my tummy.
He looked down.
I looked up.
He twisted his torso, stripping off his thermal shirt one-handed and popping his button fly open with the other.
I leaned with one hand against his sturdy forearm and struggled to get my leggings off. Then I stood in front of him in silky panties and a bra with my breasts overflowing the cups.
Killian stilled, his dark gleaming eyes drinking me in. My healed belly—the thin wounds just white tracks now—overshadowing everything.
“I’m not getting naked until you do,” I whispered.
He shot into action, pushing down his jeans and socks all in one go.
And, oh lord, if I’d gotten bigger, he was just plain big all over. So muscular, and brawny, and tall, dark, tattooed. His cock rose rigidly upright from his groin, and I panted at the sight of him.
“Your turn.” His voice came out harsh and rough, like a tongue licking where my wetness welled.
I unsnapped the bra, shrugged it off, and dropped my panties.
My areolae had thickened, darkened. My breasts had grown at what seemed to be the same rate as my mounded belly.
His gaze cruised up and down, and up and down again, pure male appreciation steaming off him like the pheromones of an animal in full rut.
He hauled me closer, and I bumped up against him with my tum.
My cheeks burned. “Sorry.”
“I don’t mind.” Killian’s arms snaked around me.
I dropped my face down, faced with his thick cock. He was engorged—so big and hard I knew my fist wouldn’t reach all the way around.
