Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(59)
It didn’t matter who it was, as long as it was Chaos, as long as she had that link to her old man, as long as the cum that jetted up inside her was the seed of the brotherhood.
It was just that Hound, for years, had been giving her the opening.
And she finally needed it enough, she’d walked right through.
“Shep—”
“Go to sleep,” he grunted.
“I was—”
He squeezed her belly, pressed his body hard into her and growled, “Keely, go to fucking sleep.”
Her frame was strung tight, and it felt like she forced it to relax before she replied, “Okay. We’ll talk in the morning.”
They wouldn’t.
They’d talk tomorrow night, somewhere private, quiet, not there, not at the house that Black bought her, not anywhere a brother could see, not anywhere an old lady might catch them, not anywhere anyone in the biker world might witness the end of something that hadn’t begun.
She linked her fingers in his at her belly and held on tight.
He let her, not because he liked the feel, just because he couldn’t deal with the shit.
He waited until she fell asleep.
It took a long time.
But finally her body loosened, as did her grip.
Only then did he slide his fingers from hers.
But he didn’t let her go.
He had one more night.
A few more hours.
A few more hours of make believe.
He was going to fucking take it.
Then it would be over.
Defeat
Hound was awake before the alarm sounded.
Keely started in his arms and lifted her head.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
He slid his arm from around her waist, muttering back, “You best git.”
It was dark but he still saw the shadow of her head turn his way.
“Shep, baby—”
“You got work, I gotta get some more shuteye before I see to Jean then I got shit to do for the Club.”
And he fucking did.
It was time to knock some teeth down some throats and do it hoping he was bulletproof.
“I think something happened last night,” she said softly.
She thought?
“Keely, you need to get moving,” he reminded her.
“You told me we’d talk in the morning,” she reminded him. “It’s morning.”
“And we’re talkin’ but we don’t got a lot of time because, like I said, you got work and I got shit to do.”
“Hound—”
“Woman, shake a fuckin’ leg. We’ll talk tonight.”
She studied him through the dark before she asked, “You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
And he was sure.
They were absolutely going to talk that night.
More studying but he didn’t take it. He rolled the other way and turned on his light.
Then it was him that got out of bed, murmuring, “Before you go in there, I’m gonna hit the pisser.”
He did that and she came in wearing her underwear while he was washing his hands.
Her eyes were steady but searching on him in his mirror.
He didn’t touch her as he walked out.
He didn’t know what to do then.
Get in bed, which meant watching her put on clothes and get ready to leave his place, her not knowing it was for the last time, him feeling a hole in his soul because he did.
Or get in bed and turn his back to her like a sulking kid.
Uncomfortable and feeling like a fucking moron in his own goddamned house.
He should have kicked her ass out the night before.
In the end, Hound did neither.
He yanked up his jeans commando and strolled down the hall to his kitchen.
He didn’t have a coffeemaker, something Keely gave him shit for, told him last weekend that was her next addition, but he didn’t need one. If he wanted coffee, he went over to visit Jean.
So he had no reason to be in his kitchen either.
He still stayed there, leaning into a hand on the counter of the bar that faced his living room and scowling at the furniture she picked for him, wondering if it’d fit through his windows so he could just shove it out.
She walked into the room, and he stopped scowling at his furniture to turn a blank face to her.
Keely didn’t miss it.
But she powered through it.
“You want me to come earlier? I can make dinner for Jean before we talk,” she offered, like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn’t touched her tongue to her husband’s name on his fucking body with Hound’s cum up her cunt.
“That might be good,” he lied. “I’ll ask Jean and text you.”
She seemed to relax at that.
“Okay,” she said quiet, then came to him, put her hand on his stomach and tipped her head back.
He went through the motions, putting his lips to hers, even setting his hand on her waist.
When he lifted away, she looked confused and worried again.
“Are you gonna walk me to my car?” she asked.
Fuck.
He was so deep in his own head, he forgot.
“Right, yeah. Be back,” he grunted, walked around her, down the hall, tore on a tee, jammed his feet into his boots and then walked back.