Page 27 of Heart of Stone (Stoneheart MC #1)

ANDI

" W e need to talk."

I look up from where I am folding laundry on the couch to find Hawk in the doorway. The kids are finally asleep after another long day of illness, but the house finally has that peaceful quiet that only comes after dark.

He's been here all week, sleeping on the couch, taking care of us while we fought off the stomach bug. Never complaining about the sick or the laundry or the stench. He is there.

Steady. Present. Patient.

It terrifies me how easily he's slipped back into our lives.

"Yeah," I agree, setting aside one of Adam's tiny shirts. "We do."

I've put off this talk for as long as possible, but we need to hash it out. He needs to understand where I am, and what I need if he really does want to make this work.

And I have a sneaky suspicion he does.

He sits beside me, closer than necessary but not quite touching. "I'm not going to promise I'll never let you down."

That isn't what I'd expected him to lead with.

"No?"

"No." He turns to face me fully. "Because sometimes I will. Sometimes the club will need me, and I'll have to go. Sometimes I'll make the wrong choice. I'm not perfect, Andi."

"I never asked you to be perfect."

"I know." His hand finds mine, warm and callused. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you and Abby needed me."

"I was terrified," I whisper. "She was blue. I thought she was dying. I needed you."

His head bends and he brushes his lips over my knuckles.

"You'll never know how sorry I am for leaving you to deal with that.

So fucking sorry." His fingers lace with mine.

"I could promise that will never happen again, but I can't. Shit happens, and sometimes no matter how much we fight, we let the people in our lives down. "

His gaze pierces mine, direct and full of emotion.

"But I can promise to try. I want to be the man these kids deserve. The man you deserve."

"Hawk—"

"Let me finish." His other hand comes up to cup my cheek. "I've been thinking about what family means. Not just blood or patches, but the kind you choose.”

My heart thunders against my ribs. "And?"

"I choose you. All of you." His thumb brushes my cheek.

"I want to be here for middle-of-the-night fevers and first steps and Christmas mornings.

I want to teach the girls to ride bikes and show Adam how to throw a punch.

I want to fall asleep beside you every night and wake up to tiny humans jumping on our bed. "

Tears burn my eyes. "You can't just?—"

"I can. I am." His voice roughens. "I love you, Andi. I love our kids. And I'm going to spend every day proving it."

"Even when the club needs you?"

"We'll figure it out." He presses his forehead to mine. "I've already talked to Stone about stepping back from some duties. Delegating more to the prospects and other brothers."

That surprises me. "You'd do that?"

"For my family? Yeah." His smile is soft. "Turns out being sergeant-at-arms isn't worth much if I don't have anyone to come home to."

"I'm scared," I admit.

"Of what?"

"To believe you. To let myself need you." My voice cracks. "But I'm so tired of being alone. I missed you."

The admission costs me something, scraping raw against my pride. I've spent so long being strong, being enough by myself that to be with someone else feels like cracking my chest open and laying my heart bare.

"God, I missed you too." His arms tighten around me. "Every morning I'd wake up reaching for you."

"It's scary," I whisper into his shirt. "How much I want this to work. How much I need you."

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "Say it again."

"I need you." The words come easier this time. "And that terrifies me because everyone I've ever needed has left. They all walked away. And I can't—" My voice breaks. "I can't watch you walk away again. Not when the kids love you. Not when I?—"

"When you what?" His thumb traces my cheek, catching tears I hadn't realized were falling.

"I love you." The words tumble out, unstoppable now. "I love how you make pancakes shaped like dinosaurs. How you know which of the twins is which even when they try to trick you. How Adam lights up when he hears your bike. How you make me feel safe enough to be scared sometimes."

"Andi—"

"No, let me finish." I press my hand to his chest, feeling his heart thunder under my palm. "I love you. And it scares the hell out of me because for the first time in my life, I want to let someone help carry the load. I want to believe in someone else's strength besides my own."

His forehead presses to mine, his breath warm against my lips. "Then believe in me. Believe in us. I'll spend every day proving we're worth the risk."

"Promise?"

"With everything I am." He kisses me then, soft and sweet and full of promise. "You and these kids? You're everything."

I wipe at my wet cheeks. "You're taking three kids with this deal."

His tone leaves no room for argument. "If you'll have me, then I swear I'll spend the rest of my life being worthy of your trust, and theirs."

I study his face, seeing the truth there. The love. The determination.

"When you mess up, I’ll be mad," I say softly.

"Justifiably so."

"I’ll make you do laundry. And change all of Adam’s diapers."

His lips quirk. "You'll have every right to be."

"But you'll come home?"

"Always." He pulls me closer. "No matter what, I'll always come home to you."

I let myself lean into him, let myself believe. "Okay."

"Okay?" His voice holds hope.

"Yeah." I press my face into his neck, breathing in leather and soap and him. "But you're still sleeping on the couch."

His laugh rumbles through his chest. "Can I convince you otherwise?"

"You can try."

His smile turns wicked. "Challenge accepted."

He kisses me then, slow and deep, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss as he pulls me closer.

This is different from our other kisses. Those have been charged with need or desperation.

This feels like coming home.

"Missed you," he murmurs against my lips. "Missed this."

"Show me," I whisper.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his own dark with intent. Then he stands, scooping me into his arms in one smooth motion.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you to bed." He starts down the hall. "Unless you object?"

I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "The kids?—"

"Are out cold." He shoulders open my bedroom door. "And I've got the baby monitor right here."

He lays me on the bed with surprising gentleness, following me down until his weight presses me into the mattress.

"Still want me on the couch?" he asks, his lips trailing down my neck.

"Hmm." I arch into him as his hands find skin. "I might be persuaded to reconsider."

His laugh is low and rich. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Then his mouth is on mine again, and words become unnecessary. His tongue sweeps into my mouth as his hands slide under my shirt, callused fingers mapping the curve of my spine. I arch into his touch, wanting more, needing everything he can give me.

We take our time undressing each other, each revealed inch of skin a revelation. His tattoos are a roadmap I explore with fingers and tongue, tracing tiny kisses over the club's emblem on his chest, feeling his heart thunder under my lips.

There’s no rush here, no pressure. Time seems to stand still as we rediscovered each other, relearning what it takes to make the other shiver with pleasure.

"Missed this," he murmurs, his mouth trailing slow, delicious kisses down my neck. "Missed you. The way you taste, the sounds you make."

His hands find my breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks until I'm gasping. When he replaces his fingers with his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue has me arching off the bed.

This is no longer gentle lovemaking—it’s a reclaiming. A branding of one to the other. Each touch, each kiss, each shared breath is both an apology and a promise.

He works his way down my body with devastating focus, as if he's trying to memorize every curve, every reaction. His beard scrapes deliciously against my inner thigh as he settles between my legs.

"Look at me," he demands softly.

I prop myself up on my elbows, meeting his gaze. The intensity there steals my breath.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathes, his eyes dark with want and something deeper, something that makes my heart clench. "So fucking beautiful. Spread out for me, trusting me again."

"Hawk—"

"Let me show you," he whispers against my skin. "Let me prove how much I need you."

Then his mouth is on me, and coherent thought becomes impossible. He takes me apart with lips and tongue, working me higher and higher until I'm trembling on the edge.

But it's not enough. I need more. Need him.

I pull him back up my body, desperate for his kiss, his touch, the solid weight of him above me. His hands and mouth work magic on my body, drawing sounds from me I didn't know I could make.

"Tell me you're mine," he growls against my throat.

"I’m yours," I gasp. "Always yours."

His cock slides home, and we both groan as he fills me. The stretch and burn of him is exquisite, dancing me across a knife edge of pleasure and pain. His body covers mine completely, his weight a delicious anchor as he holds himself still, letting me adjust.

“I love you, Andi. So fucking much.”

His mouth finds my breast, teeth grazing sensitive flesh as his thumb works circles against my clit.

My answer is to lift my hips and beg for more, wrapping my legs around him to pull him deeper. His groan rumbles through his chest as he begins to move, each thrust slow and deep like he’s trying to claim every inch of me.

His free hand grips my hip hard enough to leave marks as he holds me in place, thrusting into me, claiming me, branding me.

"Mine," he growls, picking up his pace. "Say it again."

"Yours." I drag my nails down his back, loving how his muscles bunch under my hands. "All yours."

His rhythm falters at my words, his control slipping. Good. I want him as desperate as I feel, as consumed by this need between us.

"Never letting you go again," he promises, his voice rough. Each word is punctuated by a thrust that drives me higher. “I love you.”

The raw honesty in his voice, combined with the perfect angle of his hips, sends me over the edge. I shatter around him, my body clamping down as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. He follows a moment later, my name a promise on his lips as he pulses inside me.

After, he holds me close, his fingers drawing gentle patterns across my skin. The silence between us is easy, even if it holds an unasked questions.

I sigh, closing my eyes, knowing we've crossed a line. There's no going back from this. From us.

Smiling, I open my eyes, turning my head toward him.

"Stay," I whisper into the darkness.

His arms tighten around me. "Forever, little lamb."