Six Months Later
The steam from the shower wraps around us like a warm cocoon, and I lean back against Hurricane’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my spine. His hands trace gentle circles over my swollen belly, our twins moving restlessly inside me as if they can sense the tension radiating from their father.
It’s two hours before he has to leave.
Two hours before he rides out to face the Rojas Cartel in what everyone’s callingOperation Darkfire.
Immy is finally asleep after fighting bedtime for what felt like forever. She’s been clingy lately, like she knows that her daddy’s on edge, that we’re all on edge—kids seem to sense that stuff.
“They’re active tonight,” Hurricane murmurs against my ear, his voice rough with emotion as one of the babies kicks particularly hard against his palm.
“They know their daddy’s about to do something s-stupid,” I whisper, my voice cracking despite my efforts to stay strong.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel his chest rise and fall with a shaky breath. “Not stupid, Sha. Necessary.”
I want to argue with him.
I want to tell him that nothing is more necessary than him staying here with us.
Staying safe.
Staying alive.
But I know Hurricane, and I know Defiance. When Javier Rojas started making his play for government control, when LA Defiance called for help, there was never any question that Hurricane would answer.
This isn’t just about territory anymore.
It’s about the future—our children’s future.
Javier Rojas wants to build a totalitarian empire, and Hurricane would rather die than let Immy and our unborn twins grow up in that kind of world.
I understand it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Turn around,” he whispers, his hands sliding to my hips.
I turn in his arms, the water cascading over my skin, careful with my massive belly, and look up into those ice-blue eyes that have been my anchor through everything. His dusky blond hair is damp and curling slightly at the ends, and his beard has grown longer over the past few weeks. He looks older, more weathered, like the weight of what’s coming has aged him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes out the words while his hands cup my face. “Even when you take up all the space in the shower, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”
Despite his jab, I smile. “I feel like an elephant. A very cranky, very pregnant elephant who can’t see her own feet.”
His laugh is soft and warm, and then his mouth is on mine, kissing me with a desperation that makes my heart ache. Tears spring to my eyes, but I push them away. I won’t spend these precious moments crying.
His hands roam over my wet skin, worshiping every curve, every swell, like he’s memorizing me. When his fingers trail between my legs, I gasp, my body responding to his touch despite the heaviness of my emotions.
“Hurricane,” I murmur, my hands fisting in his wet hair.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against my lips. “Let me make you feel good.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, his lips brushing over the swell of my belly before trailing lower. The steam wraps around us as he spreads my thighs wider, his big hands firm on my hips. “Lean back, baby. Let me taste what’smine.” His mouthfinds me without hesitation, tongue flicking over my clit before sucking it into his mouth with a growl that vibrates against me. The sharp cry that leaves me echoes off the tiles as my knees threaten to buckle, and I clutch the wall to stay upright. “That’s it…” He groans between licks, his voice wrecked and reverent. “Give it to me. Let me hear you fall apart.”
He devours me like a man starving, his beard scraping deliciously against my thighs, tongue sliding deep before circling back up to tease. Every move is precise, practiced, but desperate, too, like he knows this might be the last chance to worship me this way. The water pelts against his broad shoulders as he pins me with his eyes, those stormy blues burning into me while he eats me alive. The coil inside me winds tight, and when his thumb joins in, rubbing circles in time with his tongue, I scream his name, my whole body convulsing as I come undone.
His fingers work their magic, knowing exactly how to touch me, how to make me forget everything except the pleasure building inside me. The warm water cascades over us as he brings me higher and higher, until I’m gasping his name and falling apart in his arms.
But he isn’t finished.
He rises, towering over me, his chest slick with water, his mouth glistening with me. He kisses me hard, shoving his tongue into my mouth so I taste myself on him. “You’remine!” He growls out the word against my lips. “Every inch of you belongs to me. Even swollen with my babies, you’re my woman.” He grabs my hand and guides it to his cock, thick and hard between us. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me.Always.”
