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The word love hangs in the air.
I remember after we came together. When we were pressed so close.
I almost blurted it then, roaring out the truth that I love and need her and I always will.
But something stopped me…
It wasn’t the same indecisiveness at last time.
I’ve got an idea for when I tell her I love her.
And it isn’t going to be in an FBI safe house, soundproofed walls or not.
“I didn’t even know I had a sassy side before we met,” Ruby says softly. “I guess we’re both opening up new sides of each other, hmm?”
“That’s the way it should be,” I say. “You asked how you’ve changed me. You’ve made me see I want to grow and develop with another person. I don’t want to stay the same, cold and distant. I want a family… I always did, on some level, but as the years wore on I stopped believing I’d ever find the woman of my dreams. And then a mob princess showed up at my door.”
I hug her tighter to me.
“So, can you feel our child?” I say.
“I know it’s crazy,” she whispers. “But all day I’ve been feeling this thing deep inside of me, like this—”
“Primal need?” I interject, too excited not to.
“Yes,” she says, leaning up on her elbow as the same excitement moves through her. “That’s exactly it. It’s like something has been talking to me. Not literally, but this feeling, this…”
“Compulsion,” I snarl.
“Yes, exactly.”
“Because our bodies know,” I tell her, “how badly we need to be together. Of course, we’re both feeling it. We’re destined to be together, and I don’t give a damn how cheesy that sounds.”
“It doesn’t,” she counters. “At least, not to me. It sounds true. It feels real. It feels…”
“Right.”
I lean in close, tasting her breath before I kiss her.
And then gunshots crack through the house.
I leap to my feet, instantly on high alert, as more gunshots sound from the house…
No, from outside the house.
The guards.
Fuck.
“Wait here,” I growl, stalking to the other side of the room where my clothes and my gun lay.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ruby
“What’s happening?” I yell, as more crack-crack-crack noises sound from elsewhere in the house.
I can’t tell if they’re coming from inside or outside.
“Are those gunshots?”
Panic is coursing through me, poisoning the pleasure and the closeness that has marked the last few hours.
After the craziness of the bunker and our escape, I was foolish enough to believe we might be safe now, might be able to lock ourselves away from the mayhem of the mob and the Cartel and all the rest of it.
“Get dressed,” Rider growls.
He’s wearing a T-shirt and pants, hastily pulled on, and his gun is at his side as he strides toward the door.
“Princess,” he snaps, pausing at the door to throw me a stern glare. “We might need to make a quick getaway. Get dressed and get in the ensuite. Lock the door and wait for me.”
More gunshots sound, triggering an answering noise in my chest, as though somebody’s firing a pistol against my ribcage.
I climb to my feet and start fumbling for my clothes, part of me wondering if I fell asleep in his arms and this is all a nightmare.
There’s no way our closeness can be shattered so quickly, so suddenly.
“You’re not going out there, are you?” I whimper as I wriggle into a T-shirt.
“I don’t know,” Rider says quietly. “Wait… I need to listen.”
He presses his ear against the door, moving with calm, not seeming affected at all by the danger that has suddenly gripped us. I pull on some pants, not bothering with my underwear, feeling the stickiness of his seed against the fabric.
Suddenly the stickiness seems out of place, as though we didn’t just come together and change pieces of each other.
It doesn’t seem fair that I didn’t even get to sink into the fact I’m no longer a virgin before this happened.
It’s a selfish thought, but it’s the truth, and my man has taught me I don’t have to be ashamed of how I feel.
I hate this.
“Fuck,” Rider says quietly. “They’re in the hallway. Bathroom, Ruby. Now.”
“What about you?” I whimper.
He glares at me, his eyes blazing and commanding. “I mean it. Get in there. Now. I can’t fight if you’re here. I won’t be able to focus.”
His tone gives me no chance for argument. It’s a primal way of speaking, a tone of voice that tells me he’s not going to take no for an answer, that I better do as he says or he’s going to drag me in there himself.
As I walk to the bathroom, an insane and out-of-place shiver moves through me at the thought of Rider dragging me in there himself.
My sex tingles and my nipples pebble again. It’s like my womb knows something terrible could happen to him and wants me to take as much of his seed as possible before he…
