Page 140 of Filthy Elites

The relief is so sharp it nearly takes me to my knees. I stumble towards her, wavering on my feet. “Shit, man, you’ve been shot,” Troy says as he grabs ahold of me, trying to stop me.

“I need … Haley…” I say forcing my feet to move forward one step at a time.

Troy takes one look at me and curses. A moment later, he shoves his head beneath my good arm and wraps an arm around my waist to help me. I hiss as he bumps into what I’m now sure is either a cracked or broken rib—I’d say cracked since breathing isn’t too difficult. I don’t care, though, all I can focus on is my girl.

“Viks!” She doesn’t hesitate. The second I get close, she pushes Andrei away and despite the wince she gives as she tries to stand back up, I can’t help but just feel fucking grateful that she’s still alive.

Troy releases me, moving away as she comes right to me—right where she belongs. In my arms. Tears streak her beautiful face. The dark streaks of her make up have now been smeared even further down her cheek.

“Fuck, baby…” I close my good arm around her and pull her closer. Fuck, nothing but being inside of her could be close enough. I want to tear her apart and crawl inside of her. I want to know that there’s absolutely nothing that can separate us.

“I’m okay,” she whispers as if she knows I need to hear it. “You’re okay?”

I jerk a nod against her shoulder, leaning into her soft, smaller frame. My sweet girl in my arms? Yeah, I’m fucking okay. I’m the greatest.

“I should spank your ass,” I growl as I squeeze her despite my pain.

“Okay,” she says, nodding her head against my chest. “You can spank me, fuck me, do whatever the fuck you want to do to me. I don’t care.”

“Yeah?” I close my eyes and just inhale the sweet feminine scent of her. “Then marry me.”

“What?” She pushes back and looks up at me, her brows pinched down.

“You said do whatever the fuck I want to do,” I remind her. “So, this is it, I’m staking my fucking claim, Haley.”

She blinks at me as if comprehending words are far beyond her capabilities right now, and looking at her—her bleeding arm, the burn across her hip where a bullet grazed her—it wouldn’t surprise me. I blow out a breath and just pull her back against me.

“We can talk about it later,” I promise. Maybe I was rushing things.

“No.” Her voice is quiet and she doesn’t push me away again. Instead, she curls closer, locking her arms around my waist, burying her head against my chest. “No, we don’t need to talk about it.”

“I’m not letting you walk away,” I warn her. “We will talk about it later.”

She just shakes her head. “We don’t need to.” Her head tilts up and she looks at me. I reach up and thumb away a thin strand of brown hair clinging to her sweaty cheek before cupping it in my hand.

“Why don’t we need to?”

“Because I already know my answer,” she replies, “and it’s yes.”

Epilogue: Haley

6 months later…

I’m nervous. I hate being nervous. I pace from one side of the room to the other, feeling a skittering up my spine. “Baby, calm down,” Viks says from where he sits on one of the green room’s couches. His words don’t have any effect on me. I continue walking, biting my nails. Alyssa’s fucking late and there’s no telling how many people are waiting in the art gallery downstairs.

On my next pass, he grabs me around the waist and pulls me onto his lap. “What are you freaking out about?”

“Everything?”

He grabs my hand and pulls it away from my mouth, replacing it with his lips. I sink into the kiss with no remorse. His tongue invades and moves over mine, stroking into me.

“I bet I know what will take your mind off things,” he says. I bet he does too, and when his hand goes beneath my shirt, I don’t stop him.

“Will you?” I ask. I don’t care if I’m practically begging.

He opens his eyes and pulls back, a hand arching up to cup against my face. His fingers skim down my jawline. “You want me to distract you?”

I nod, reaching up and clutching onto him as I turn and settle my legs on either side of his hips. The thickness of his cock brushes against my cunt and I lower myself down on it, rubbing insistently through the fabric of our clothes.

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