Page 59 of Filthy Devil

I press my lips together as I think about how to answer this question. I don’t know what I’m going to say. I haven’t had a conversation about kids with James. I could have one or two if she wanted them.

My grandkids would be older, which is unbelievable. But if that’s what James wanted, if she said that she needed a baby, I’d give it to her. Hell, I’ve fallen for her so damn hard that I would probably give her just about anything she asked me for.

Just when I open my mouth to tell him that I got this shit under control and for him not to worry about his old man’s love life or dick, the hospital door opens, and there stands the subject of the hour.

James is wearing sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. Her hair is up, and her face is makeup-free. She looks fucking perfect. She only takes one step inside the room, her eyes connecting to mine before she freezes.

“I’m okay,” I murmur.

She shakes her head and lifts her hands to her mouth, and then I watch as tears begin to stream down her cheeks. It’s as if a switch has been flipped. Whatever shock she was in, it’s done now because her knees begin to buckle. Bugsy slips his hands beneath her armpits to keep her from hitting the floor.

Elvis doesn’t move, though. He observes, his eyes focused on James. Once she straightens and wipes her eyes, she begins to move toward the side of my bed. She sinks down next to my hip, reaches one arm out, and her palm cups my cheek.

“I’m okay,” I repeat.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine. “He had that knife, and I couldn’t even see, let alone think. I pulled the trigger, and I didn’t stop until he wasn’t moving anymore. Thank god you’re alive,” she whispers.

“I’m alive, sweetheart. Can’t get rid of me that quickly.”

With her hand on my cheek, a fresh flow of tears slips from her eyes and rolls down her cheeks, and then she leans forward as if she can’t hold herself up for another moment, her forehead pressing against mine.

I hear a door open and then close in the background. I know we’re alone. If my son doesn’t believe that this is real right now, then he never will. But I know him. He’s a good man, and he’s going to be cool with it all, no matter what—because he supports me.

I wrap my arms around her back and hold her close to me. James is gentle. She doesn’t press against me too hard, even though I want her to. I want to feel her body against my own—naked.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

JAMES

I love him.

All of him.

Which is why I’m going to have to leave him.

It’s not because I don’t think I’m good enough or think that he deserves someone better. I know I can be what he needs, and he already is everything I’ve ever imagined. But it’s for the simple fact that I cannot and will not let anything else happen to him or his family.

I think the clubhouse burning to the ground was all I needed to see to solidify that. It’s all my fault. He may not want to believe it, but it is. It’s going to kill me to walk away from him, plus I have zero plans of where I’m going, but as I stare into his eyes, none of that matters.

At this exact moment, I don’t want to move. Being this close to him is all I could ever need.

His fingertips begin to run up and down my back. Lifting my head, I look into his face, searching his eyes. I don’t want to hurthim, but I’m afraid that I’m going to press my body against his and then rip his clothes off.

That would be bad.

But I want him one more time before I leave. Before I walk out of that hospital door and never look back. That’s what I’m going to have to do. The more I linger, the less likely I am going to actually leave.

Forcing myself to sit, I look into his eyes for a moment, then begin to chew on my bottom lip. “The clubhouse is gone,” I whisper.

He smirks. “Yeah, I know. Thank fuck I invested in a house, and you got a place to stay.”

The guilt consumes me instantly at his words. I don’t say anything, though. I’m sure it makes me an even bigger asshole by not telling him that I plan on leaving and never coming back. He’ll talk me into staying, which, to be honest, wouldn’t take much convincing anyway at this point.

I’m madly in love with this man, and I don’t want to go anywhere, even if that means it’s exactly what I need to do. Inhaling a deep, trembling breath, I give him a small smile. He opens his mouth to say something else. His eyes are focused on mine as he looks at me like I’m the only person in the whole world.

I wish I were.

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