Page 96 of Filthy Hot

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I stand from the sofa. Carrying my iPad in one hand and her body with the other, I walk us toward our bedroom. It’s been months. I should probably find us another place, but I like this too much. Maybe once we start having kids. Maybe.

Once we’re in my room, I toss the iPad on the dresser and turn her, pressing her back against the closed door. My mouth is on hers. I devour her. Only when I need to breathe do I lift my lips and look into her eyes.

“Marry me as soon as possible,” I demand. “Three days.”

I already looked up how long you have to wait between applying for a marriage license and getting married in the state of Texas, and it’s seventy-two hours. I’m fucking ready and serious to do this thing.

“I’m pregnant, Rider.”

The words seem to shock the shit out of her the same way they do me. We stare at one another wide-eyed, and for a moment, there is complete silence. Without a single word, I slam my mouth against hers.

I can’t believe this is real. I kiss her hard, trying to express my excitement, and when I lift my head, I spin her around before walking us over to the bed. I sink down on the edge with her legs still wrapped tightly around my waist.

I cup her cheeks and look into her eyes. “You’re for real,” I murmur.

She nods her head. “Shawn and Ryan brought a test for me. But I didn’t tell anyone the results. You’re the first. I can’t believe it happened. That it’s real.”

“I’m so fucking happy, baby.”

And I am. We talked about kids after Ryan had Millie, but I didn’t think it would happen like this. So fast. And as scared as I am about the whole process, excitement trumps fear. It always will.

Kyle leans forward and touches her mouth against mine just as a knock sounds on the door. I think about ignoring it, but it’s the middle of the day, and I’m sure there’s a good reason for this shit. Turning my head, I call out for whoever it is to come in.

The door swings open, and Brew stands in the doorway, his eyes wild as they connect with mine. I start to ask him what’s wrong when he jerks his chin. His next words are ones that I’ve been fucking dreading ever hearing, words that I thought I’d protected the club against.

“Clink was picked up. Caught transporting drugs over the state line. Fuckers were waiting for him.”

Shit.

Kyle gasps, but I don’t say anything. I can’t. This is my fault. I didn’t cover enough bases. Fucking fuck.

Kyle climbs off my lap, my hard-on completely vanishes, and I stand. Making my way toward Brew, I stop and turn to look over my shoulder at Kyle. I give her a small smile and tip my head toward the door.

She knows what’s up, knows that I’m still not ready for her to be out of my sight—she follows behind us.

This is going to be a long fucking day. I cannot believe that this happened. This means that we start from scratch, and I have a feeling the Southern Mafia, as quiet as they’ve been, are the ones who have orchestrated this.

Loner isn’t going to just let us lock his dumb ass in a refrigerated truck for days, kill his brother, and get away with it. I knew there would be retaliation. I just didn’t know when or how.

Now I do.

That treaty is bullshit, and the war is on.

And fuck him for ruining my moment with Kyle. Loner is going to pay for that, too. He’s going to pay for it all. We should have never agreed to that treaty. It wasn’t ever going to be followed. Atomic and Nash both thought it was the right thing to do, but here we are, three months later, and now one of our men is going to be put away.

Brew stops and turns to me, his gaze finding mine before he speaks. “Nobody had any way to know,” he murmurs.

The door to the clubhouse flies open, and my breath hitches at the sight in front of me. As if we need any more fucking drama. Then Brew’s entire body jerks at the sight of the woman standing in the threshold.

Spencer Maddison.

Clink’s little sister doesn’t appear to be so little anymore.

“You assholes got my brother thrown in jail,” she snaps.

Brew growls, then marches toward her. Turning to Kyle, I shake my head. I reach out and wrap my fingers around the side of her throat. “I’ll be in the conference room. I’ll come out as soon as I can. Tomorrow morning, we go for our marriage license.”

“We don’t have to,” Kyle whispers.

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