Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

“We haven’t talked about what you went through when you lost the baby,” he said softly. “Or about how you coped with losing your other tube. When exactly did it happen?”

I tensed at his question, not because I didn’t want to discuss this, but because of the guilt I felt over it, and the loss I still felt sharply. That loss could slice pain deeply in my soul in the most unexpected moments. However, I knew he needed these answers, so I gave them to him. “I fell pregnant when you were home on leave for your cousin’s funeral during your last tour. The doctor monitored me with blood tests every few days so he could rule out another ectopic pregnancy, but at six weeks he determined it was ectopic. He recommended surgery rather than an injection and things didn’t go as well as he hoped.”

“Fuck,” he said. “I wish I’d known, Angel. I would have been there for you. Six weeks of that and then having to deal with everything that happened….”

I shifted so I could look up at him, hating the pain I saw on his face. “I know you would have, but it was on me. I made the decision to get pregnant; I dealt with the consequence. Mum and Cleo were there for me.”

“It wasn’t on you,” he said with force. “Fuck, losing a baby was definitely not on you. I don’t ever want you to think that again. And I’m so fucking sorry I’ve spent the last few days unable to think straight about this. You keep saying you’re sorry I might not be able to have children, but you always wanted children just as much as I did; I’m sorry this has been taken away from you.”

Tears filled my eyes, which Winter gently wiped away. Then, with regret clear in his eyes, he said, “I talked with your mum a lot after we broke up, and looking back now, I’m pretty sure she came close to telling me about the baby. There were times when she seemed like she had something to say but then held it back. I should have fucking pushed her.”

I moved to straddle him and then leaned forward, bringing my chest close to his. “Promise me you won’t waste time looking back with regret at the things you think you should or could have done. We’ve wasted enough time; I just want to get on with living in the now and planning our future. I want babies with you, somehow, some way. I want to watch you teach our children in the same way your father taught you. And I want to grow old with you in a home filled with the kind of memories we were lucky enough to make when we were kids. I know you’re still hurting here”—I placed my hand over his heart—“and that it will take you time to move past that, but I don’t think looking back all the time will help. I think we have to look forward.”

Winter took hold of my face, sliding his hands up into my hair, and kissed the hell out of me. He kept his lips to mine as he switched our positions so he was on top of me. When he finally dragged his mouth from mine, he said, “Y

ou will be a mother; I will make fucking sure of it. And our children will be the luckiest kids alive because of who their mother is.” He dropped another kiss to my lips before adding, with the kind of Winter-grin that made my ovaries explode, “Just so you know, I plan on being one of those dirty old men who can’t keep his hands to himself. Those memories you wanna make are gonna include a lot of filthy sex right up until the day I die.”

I returned his grin. “I know, because you really are your father’s son. That man’s hands were all over your mother every time I saw them together.”

He laughed and kissed me, again. “Fuck I’ve missed you, baby. You will never leave my sight again if I can fucking help it.”

I laughed, too, and wondered how I had ever managed to stay away from him for so long. Then, turning serious, I whispered, “I think Birdie Morrison has a good ring to it. Do you?”

Heat flashed in those eyes of his. Then, arching a brow, he said, “What happened to us starting off with dating again?”

“Well, I guess we could, if that’s what you want….”

When his lips met mine this time, they were demanding, and expressed so much more than just a kiss. I was breathless and needy by the time he was done. “No fucking way are we going back to dating,” he growled, causing desire to pool low in my belly. God, I will never have enough of him.

“Good, because I plan on moving in with you as soon as we get back to Sydney. And I’m not even taking no for an answer.”

“Fucking hell, woman,” he said, grinding his dick against me, “This bossy side of you has me hard as fuck. There’s not going to be any sleep for either of us tonight.”

Wrapping my legs around him and rolling my hips to meet his moves, I said with a grin, “I don’t know…. Just because I talk too much, you want to shut me up with your dick.”

“No,” he said forcefully, “I can deal with your need to talk my fucking ear off. This”—he rocked into me again—“is because you are by far the sexiest woman alive and I can’t get enough of you.”

With that, he slammed into me and showed me exactly how much he wanted me. All was right in our world, and never again would I put what we had at risk. Winter Morrison was the man I would love and cherish for every day of the rest of my life.

31

BIRDIE

“These red shoes look exactly like the red shoes I just packed, and the red ones before that,” Winter said. “How many pairs of red shoes does a woman actually fucking need?”

I snatched the shoes from him. “Maybe you should go help Carey finish up in the kitchen. I don’t need to hear your thoughts about the rest of my wardrobe.”

His brow arched and he did exactly what I didn’t want him to do. He eyed the other side of my wardrobe. “Fuck me, Angel.” Then looking at me, he said, “By my count, we’ve already packed forty-seven pairs of shoes. There’s gotta be at least that again in here.”

I stepped next to him. “Yes, and don’t they look beautiful in there? I mean, you certainly don’t complain when I wear them.”

“I wouldn’t fucking complain if you didn’t wear them.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t complain if I didn’t wear anything. And why are you counting my shoes?” I knew that letting Winter anywhere near the packing of my clothes and shoes and bags would be a bad idea, but he’d insisted on helping. We hadn’t even gotten to the bags yet. God help me.

“Birdie”—he snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me close—“we’re moving in together. I’m going to see how many pairs of shoes you own, and how many more you buy, and all the places you try to hide them from me.” He took hold of my face with both hands and bent his to mine. “Don’t start hiding from me now, baby.”

Winter was so damn perceptive. Since we’d arrived home from Brisbane three days ago, it had been a whirlwind of getting back to work, catching up with my family, doing all the things I needed to do to move house, and packing. And while it was exactly what I wanted, Winter had taken charge and was driving this forward faster than I could keep up. Fast was his way, as was ignoring obstacles and making shit happen regardless. I hadn’t forgotten that, but seeing it in action had proved a little overwhelming.