I answer him with a kiss. A push of my salty lips against his. He kisses me back without hesitation. His large palm fisting into my hair to deepen our touch.
There’s a desperation in the way his mouth moves over mine. In the way his tongue swipes into my mouth, dragging against mine in thick, wet caresses.
It’s not a pretty kiss. No soft moans of pleasure or teasing flicks of a tongue. It’s messy and chaotic and altogether frantic. Longing exploding in our faces in our need to be as close as possible.
Ass sliding to the edge of the couch, my thighs press against his obliques. I swallow his rough groan, drinking it down like it’s only ever been mine. Like no one else has ever heard the ragged sound of need breaking from his eager lips.
Palm pressed into my spine, he lifts me from the couch, sliding backward. His ass to the carpet, my legs remain stuck to his sides, letting us feel his potent want thickening against my core.
His kiss, unbreaking, only intensifies as the seconds tick by. There’s an agony in the way he kisses me. An endeavor on his lips. A silent prayer sealed in the fusion of our mouths.
Love me, he asks. He begs. He pleads.
Harder, he urges.
Completely, he burns.
Who am I to deny him?
Tearing my lips from his, I let the promise in my eyes bore into his.
“Are you sure?” I ask, pressing my forehead to his. “About this. About us. You’ve just discovered you’re a dad. You have teenage twins, Rocco. Do you need this complication?”
Inhaling heavily, he shakes his head, our skin still touching. “It’s the one thing in my life I am sure about. You. The best part of each day is you, beauty. You settle me,” he concedes. “You’ve become the best part of me.”
“Rocco,” I whisper.
“With you, I no longer have to hide the hideous parts of who I am,” he admits, almost hesitantly. Definitely quietly. Maybe even a little uncertainly. “You make me believe you love those parts too... all the ugly,” he clarifies.
I want to cry. I want to grab his hand and force it into my chest so he can feel what he does to me. “I don’t love your ugly parts,” I whisper.
His eyes flash in understanding, in a defeat that weakens his valor.
“I don’t love your ugly parts because they don’t exist, Rocco. Every unseemly thing you’ve done has been done through love. That’s not ugly, baby. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. To me, you’re everything and I do love every part of you. But there’s no ugly, not to me.”
It’s taken me almost too long to recognize that. I pinned him as an unhinged psychopath, refusing to see his purpose. Rocco Shay, unbeknownst to everyone, might very well be the most devoted human being I’ve ever known. Lawlessly, sure. A chaotic devotion that drives him. He’s driven by love so fiercely it’s read as hate.
Talk about poetic. This striking man has been reared by the most hateful of souls, judged by the rest of us and for what, loving too hard?
My hands frame his face, pulling him back to look into his eyes. “I’d bleed for you too. I poured so much effort into hating you, that you bulldozed your way into my heart without me noticing. Without either of us noticing.” We smile. “But more than that, you showed me how to love myself. You gave something I thought was lost. You let me be free.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rocco
I hold hands.
Who would’ve thought?
But driving to her father’s house, ready to face the scorn of the two people I’ve dedicated my life to finding, Camryn’s hand resting comfortably in mine, I feel centered.
So, yeah… I hold fucking hands.
As if reading my thoughts, she squeezes my palm. “How are you feeling?”
Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I glance in her direction. “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t know how to navigate this shitty situation. I just want them to accept that I’m their dad, but they have every right not to.”
“You’re scared,” she deducts.
Scared. “Fuck, beauty. I’m petrified.”
“That’s good,” she tells me. “Love is scary. You love them. You want it to work out.”
Lifting her hand to my mouth, I press my lips to her knuckles.
Love isn’t just scary, it’s a catastrophe waiting to happen. A constant test the universe enjoys throwing at you, measuring your commitment to the feeling, waiting for you to fuck up. If my life has taught me anything, it’s that. My mother. My kids. Mira. Shit, even Kane. The most important people in my life and the love I have for them has been pushed to its limits. Time and time again. Problem is, more often than not, I fail.
We walk into Rein’s home hand-in-hand. My feet a step ahead of hers, daring someone to comment. Maybe I should’ve checked with her whether she was ready to divulge our new status to her family, but I don’t want to give her the option to back away from me. I told her that.
All. In.
I’ve given her everything. I’m not interested in taking steps backward.
Blake sits at the breakfast bar, Dominic cooking her bacon and eggs as she chatters away eagerly. Her face lights up as she speaks, her hands moving in quick, excited movements to emphasize her story.
She reminds me of Lila. The soft chuckle that trails off as she laughs. The wide, infectious smile that stretches over the entirety of her face; crinkling her eyes, carving small dimples into her cheeks, showing her slightly crooked teeth.
It gives me pause.
I have a daughter.
One my mother will never meet.
A miniature version of her, that she would’ve adored on sight.
The smell of their breakfast drifts through the house, making my stomach rumble. It’s loud enough for them to hear, alerting them to our presence.
Blake’s voice cuts off almost immediately, eyes darting to me in uncertainty, her smile disappearing almost immediately, replaced with a thin line of caution.
I hate that she was completely comfortable alone in Dominic’s company. A stranger. One that owes her nothing. But I stand a few feet away, her father, and she shuts down.
“Hi,” she tests, after an awkward beat of silence.
“Mornin’,” I respond. “Sleep okay?”
“Dad,” Camryn interrupts. “Let’s, uh, check on that thing you wanted to show me.”
My eyes close on a sigh. “Smooth, Cami.”
“Yes.” Dominic places his spatula down stiffly. “That thing, good idea.”
Blake and I watch them disappear, their quick-moving feet only a tad more awkward than their made-up escape.
“They’re, uh, graceful.”
I smile. “Wanna walk out back?”
Jumping from the stool, she nods. “Sure.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“Sleeping.” Her face softens at his mention, the love shared between the two of them enough to chip away at a small cluster of my guilt for leaving them without family for too long. In reality, they weren’t alone, and from experience, it makes the world of fucking difference.
“He has nightmares,” she tells me openly. “They can be pretty bad. He crashes out pretty heavily after particularly awful nights.”