Page 88 of Riding Bare

I know it’s her.

I can sense her now, as if my body knows who it belongs beside.

Chassis tilts her head back, her eyes on mine as I look down at her. I watch as her lips curve up into a smile. We stare at one another in silence, and then she rises to her toes and touches her mouth to mine in a chaste kiss.

The room erupts in applause, and I don’t quite get why I’m getting all this attention or recognition. I got us in bed with the Russians, and we were on the brink of war, one I was happily ready to start.

When the noise dies down, I flick my gaze around the room. “I don’t deserve an ounce of appreciation. I was ready to march into war with the Perov Bratva, and I would have done it happily for my own selfish reasons,” I begin.

Though I don’t tell them those reasons. Some of the guys know, but I never announced that Chassis was pregnant with someone else’s baby. If they all know, it’s because they’re a bunch of fucking gossips, which they probably do, because that is what they are.

“I’m proud to be the president of the Iron Flame. Financially, I wish we didn’t need to get in bed with the Russians. I wish I could tell them all to go straight to hell,” I say. The men chuckle throughout the space. “Hopefully this is temporary, or hell, if it works out, then who gives a fuck.”

The room erupts again, and then the music is turned up. The men make their way over to the bar, and I turn to face my woman. I cup her cheeks. I can’t believe that this is real, that she’s here with me.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

I don’t elaborate, though I probably should. Maybe I will later. She’s everything to me. Everything I never thought possible—a wife, a lover, a friend, and soon-to-be the mother of our child. Chassis is a hell of a lot to me and deserves thanks, but maybe I’ll show her rather than tell her… later.

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.