Rough Ride (Chaos #5)(45)

“Not everything is in Chaos’s power,” I pointed out.

“That man they lost, name was Black, he had a woman and two boys.”

Uh-oh!

“She’s Chaos lore too, baby,” he went on gently. “The way it’s told, she never got over that and they loved their brother, they loved that woman, they loved those boys, so they felt his loss three ways. So when I say we’re gonna do everything in our power not to lose anything precious along the way, we’re gonna go balls to the wall with that.”

He didn’t lean into me but the way he was looking at me changed so it made it feel like he’d slid across the couch and got in my space.

“We are not doin’ this stupid. We’re playin’ this smart. Those men have women and children to protect, Rosalie. I know you get that Club is a family, but maybe you don’t get that Club is family. We want this done and we’re all in to do it, but we’re not gonna Butch and Sundance this shit. We all got different parents but we share blood. Chaos is our blood, baby, and I’m not sayin’ shit isn’t intense. I’m sayin’ we’re not taking unnecessary chances. And I can’t tell the future. What I’m askin’ is for you to trust me.”

“I trust you, Snapper.”

“Then all we got left is to eat and then we can go upstairs.”

“There’s nothing you have for the agenda?” I asked.

“Nope,” he answered.

Well, that was a relief.

“We have something else to talk about,” I shared as he shoved food in his mouth.

“What?” he asked after he’d swallowed.

“I want you to get that what I’m gonna say is real and not about all you’re giving me.”

“What?” he repeated.

“And I’m worried it’s too soon and you won’t believe in it.”

“Baby…” He was losing patience. “What?”

“I’m not falling for you,” I told him.

A look came over his face that made me scramble to keep talking.

“I’ve already fallen in love with you.”

He froze.

Solid.

Staring at me.

I sat.

Solid.

Staring at him.

Snapper broke the silence.

“Shit, fuck, we’re gonna have to nuke it,” he growled, practically threw his plate on the coffee table, yanked mine out of my hand and did the same, then pulled me out of the couch.

Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me up the stairs.

“Snap!” I snapped.

He turned and I nearly collided with him but stopped because his hands came up, framed my face, and he bent low from his step above me to put his face in mine.

“You just gave yourself to me, Rosie, so I’m havin’ you now and I don’t give a shit the naan is never as good after it’s microwaved.”

I was wrong.

The fireplace was okay for setting a romantic mood.

But the best romance in the world was standing with your man’s hands on you in the curve of a spiral staircase talking about microwaving naan bread.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to throw my arms around him. I wanted to go up on my toes and press my lips hard to his.

I’d found the man who was perfect for me and he was mine.

I didn’t get a shot to do any of that.

He dropped his head farther and kissed me.

It didn’t even start sweet.

It started wet and hot and stayed that way until Snapper broke the kiss, let go of my face, but again grabbed my hand and pulled me up the rest of the stairs.

When we got up there, I was ready to yank off all my clothes, all his clothes, and go at it fast and furious.

But Snapper had other ideas.

Sure, he walked direct to the bed.

And sure, he got right on it.

That was, sitting on it and pulling me in his lap with both my legs to the side (not even any straddle action!).

He reached out, turned on the light, and came back to me.

“Snapper,” I whispered, curling the fingers of one hand around the side of his neck.

“Rosalie,” he whispered back, sliding his hand up my spine.

When his fingers made it into my hair and he didn’t pull me down to his lips, I shared, “Mom and I bought condoms at Walgreens.”

His eyes flashed. “Love a girl who’s prepared.”

“I’m not usually prepared.”

“Strike that. Love my Rosalie was in the headspace to know this was gonna happen and she prepared for me. But just to say, baby, you never need to worry. I’ll have that covered for us.”

I had no doubt.

I stroked his whiskered jaw with my thumb and asked, “Are you gonna kiss me?”

“In a sec,” he answered, his fingers in my hair, the tips of them stroking the edge of my hairline behind my ear.

It felt crazy-nice.

His tongue in my mouth on the stairs had felt better.

He did this for a while, staring up into my eyes, and I shifted in his lap.

“Honey—” I began to prompt.

“This is gonna be our first time, Rosie, so we’re gonna remember it, and I want it to be worth remembering.”

Oh God.

How much more perfect could he be?