Page 25 of Ace's Legacy
"I believe you'll try," I say. "But after what I saw yesterday... Ryan, this is serious. People could die. You could die."
His grip on my hand tightens. "I'm not planning on it."
"No one ever plans on dying," I counter. "But it happens anyway, especially in your line of work."
"What are you asking me to do?"
"I'm not asking anything. I'm just saying that if we're going to plan a future together, whether as co-parents or something more, we need to be realistic about the risks."
"The club is planning a final strike against Charles," he says, his voice low. "Once he's gone, the danger disappears with him."
"And if something happens to you during this 'final strike'?" I can't keep the fear from my voice.
"It won't—"
"But if it does," I insist. "What happens to us then? To the baby?"
He looks troubled, as if this possibility hasn't fully occurred to him before. "I could talk to Reaper about staying back, focusing on protection detail instead of—"
"No," I interrupt. "I'm not asking you to abandon your brothers when they need you. I'm asking if you've thought about what happens to your child if you don't come back."
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "You want me to make arrangements."
I nod. "If something happens to you, I need to know our child will be taken care of, that there won't be Vultures MC coming after us for revenge, that the club won't forget about us."
"The club would never—" he starts, then stops himself. "You're right. We should have contingencies in place." He squeezes my hand. "I'll talk to Reaper today, make sure everything's official. If anything happens to me, the club will protect you both. Financially, physically, whatever you need."
"Thank you," I say, genuinely moved by his willingness to plan for the worst.
He clasps his hands behind his head and leans back against the couch, the movement stretching his t-shirt across his chest. He looks gorgeous, no other word for it. Those green eyes, that perfect jawline, the lean strength in his arms.
I know it isn't the right time to think about it, but I can't help remembering our night at the motel. How his hands had roamed over my body, appreciating every curve, every soft part of me that I'd spent years being insecure about. How he'd made me feel cherished like never before.
And now, he's facing a deadly threat. He could die. The thought makes my stomach clench with fear, but underneath that is another feeling entirely—desire. Part of me wants a last kiss, a last touch, a last fuck. I want to feel him inside me again before he goes to what could be his final fight.
But how do I say that? I've always been shy. That night with him was the first and only time in my life I've truly let myself loose, followed pure desire instead of overthinking every move.
I also feel guilty for thinking about sex when we're in danger, when I should be packing, when we just had this serious conversation about our future.
"You okay?" Ryan asks, noticing my silence.
"Yes," I say quickly. "Just thinking."
His lips curve into a smile. "If I'm a lucky man, you're thinking the same thing I am."
I gulp, my throat suddenly dry. "What are you thinking about?"
He smirks, that goddamn sexy, annoying smirk that makes my insides melt, and leans closer, moving my hair away from my ear.
His breath is warm against my skin as he whispers, "You're right. I don't know what the future holds. But I know the dangers, and if there's a chance I die in this final fight..." He pauses, his lips brushing my earlobe. "I want to fuck you one last time."
A shiver runs through me. "Isn't the celebration usually after the fight?" I manage to tease, my voice breathier than intended.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. "Usually, yes. But the fight has no date settled yet, and I'm not sure I can resist you now."
My heart pounds against my ribs. "Then don't resist."
The shackles are off. The corners of his mouth go up, his sexy smirk returning as he moves closer, hands suddenly touching every inch of my body. I lie back on the couch and close my eyes, surrendering to his exploration. I love the feeling of himtouching me, his strong hands grappling and squeezing my breasts through my dress.
