“I’ll get us something to eat from the café,” Harley offered, “and we can talk if you want.”
She did want to talk. Amelia could feel every nerve in her body, and the one person who could help ease all that hot tension inside her was Harley.
A knock on the door had them both groaning at the interruption, but Amelia soon heard something else that alerted her that there’d likely be a lot more groans to come.
Her mother.
“Amelia,” her mother said, and it was obvious she was crying. No, not just crying, but rather sobbing. Loud, hiccupping wet sobs punctuated with more knocks on the door. “Let me in, please.”
Even without the rare please, Amelia wouldn’t have just ignored her. But that was what she wanted to do. Mercy, did she. Her mother wasn’t on her good side right now, considering that she’d gone snooping in her house.
Harley stayed back when she went to the door and opened it. Her mother practically threw herself into Amelia’s arms. Nadine blurted out something through the sobs, something that Amelia couldn’t decipher, but apparently Harley figured it out.
“Your father,” Harley muttered, coming closer.
Swiping away tears, Nadine nodded, and with sob-filled breaths, she said, “Your father went through with it. He filed for a divorce.”
CHAPTER FOUR
HARLEY TRIED TO throw himself into work, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have plenty to do. He’d already moved some of the horses to the back pasture and drawn up the monthly work schedule for the hands, but he wasn’t sure if he’d done either of those things well. Because his mind kept straying back to one thing.
Well, two actually.
Amelia and a possible baby.
Their baby. And no matter how many times he mentally repeated that, it caused his worries to soar. He hadn’t exactly had a good role model in the father department. Or the mother department for that matter.
The notion of fatherhood seemed overwhelming in a good/bad kind of way. Good because it’d be Amelia’s and his son or daughter. Bad because he wasn’t sure how Amelia would react to a positive test result. Or even a negative one. Either way the test turned out, she could decide to end things with him and make a fresh start.
Amelia hadn’t wanted him to go with her to her doctor’s appointment, and Harley had respected her wishes. Waiting, however, was a bitch, and that was why he’d decided to work while he waited. That way, he wouldn’t be under the prying eyes of his mother, Liv, Darla or any guest who happened to show up if he’d gone into his office at the main house.
Harley had just about convinced his body to go off high alert and give his worries a rest when he heard a truck pull up in front of his place. He saw Amelia through the front window, and the high alert returned with a few of its friends to add to the level of intensity.
As she walked toward the porch, he examined her face, looking for any clues, but he saw only the fatigue and worry. He opened the front door, and she kept on walking until she was right in his arms. All in all, that was the best place possible.
“I don’t have the test results yet,” she immediately said and sort of sagged against him. “The doctor put a rush on it at the lab, and he’s going to call me.”
So, another wait, but Harley figured this one would be easier on him because Amelia was there. Now he needed to make sure it was easier on her as well.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Amelia didn’t answer, but she eased back, looked up at him. “Are you okay?” she repeated.
He could give her this. The reassurance that he wanted her to have. So he smiled, nodded and kissed her. He wasn’t sure which of those three things had helped to relieve the troubled look on her face. Maybe it was the combination of all of them, but at least her forehead wasn’t bunched up as much when he pulled back and studied her.
“I’m okay,” he verified. “And we’ll both be all right no matter how this turns out.”
He had to believe that. Wanted her to believe it, too.
Harley didn’t push on his marriage proposal and instead went with a reliable way of giving a “get out of here” shove to the rest of her worried expression. He kissed her again. It obviously wasn’t a chore for him. Kissing Amelia never was. But it sure felt as if they both needed this more than usual.
This time when he started to move back, Amelia caught on to him, grabbing a handful of the front of his shirt and pulling him back to her. Judging by the look in her eyes, he kissed her again, and this time with some of his own tension gone, he felt that slide of heat that only Amelia could give him.
And what a nice slide it was.
It went straight from her mouth to the parts of him that wanted to make this a whole lot more interesting. Of course, one particular part of him believed that interesting was just another word for sex. Thankfully, the rest of him knew that foreplay would make that slide of heat even better.
Amelia made a sound of pleasure when he deepened the kiss. It was music to his ears not just because it meant she was aroused but also because she wasn’t going to let a possible pregnancy stop her from enjoying this.
But it gave Harley a mental stop.
Was it okay for a pregnant woman to have sex? It had to be. Either that or there’d be a lot of horny pregnant women and their partners in the world. He dwelled on that for another couple of moments, until Amelia pressed her hand to his stomach and moved her kissing to his neck.
Harley forgot all about horny pregnant women and test results. He possibly forgot how to speak. He didn’t test that theory because he decided to use his mouth to make Amelia as crazy as he already was.
He went after her neck, too, and he didn’t make nice with his hands. They went after her breasts, which he knew from experience were two of her prime hot zones. Forgoing her kisses on his own neck, he dropped lower so he could put his mouth on her nipples. They were hard and pressed against her shirt.
This time her moan of desire was a lot louder, and as he’d known she would do, she surrendered to it. Her head rolled back while she soaked up the pleasure he was giving her.
Soon, though, shirt kisses just weren’t enough. The fire kicked up a flame or two, which urged him to go for skin to skin. Harley shoved up her shirt, pushed down her bra and put his tongue to good use on her puckered nipples.
Her next groan had an edge of urgency to it, and she fisted her hand in his hair, anchoring him against her breasts while her other hand dropped to his butt. No anchoring there. She gave him a push, aligning them in the best possible way. With his erection right in the vee of her thighs.
“I want you now,” she demanded, “and don’t you dare say no.”
If he’d been able to speak—which was still to be determined—there was zero chance that a no would come out of his mouth. Especially not with her right nipple still rolling around on his tongue.
Amelia clearly meant that now part because she started walking him backward toward his bedroom. This was familiar ground for both of them. They’d had sex plenty of times at his place, in his bed, but this seemed...different. As if they had been on a severe sex diet and were now breaking the fast. Harley felt starved for her.
They made it to his bedroom with only minimal bruising. A hazard that came with walking, groping and kissing at the same time.
Oh, and with Amelia unzipping him and sliding her hand down into his jeans and onto his erection.
He nearly got a concussion from that when he banged his head on the doorjamb. The injury was totally worth it, though, because the pleasure that spiked through him could have gotten him through any pain. Heck, it could have gotten him through major surgery.
Since Amelia was still driving the motion train, she pushed him onto the bed and quickly followed on top of him.
“Don’t say no,” she repeated, rising above him and stripping off her top and bra.
Ha
rley figured this was a sort of sexual sign language, his way of saying yes, and he unzipped her jeans and did a turnabout fair play. He dipped his hand down into her panties. Into her. And got the reward of her loud moan of pleasure along with some creative profanity.
He smiled. It was one of the things he liked about this cowgirl with the silver-spoon roots. She had a dirty mouth when he stroked sensitive parts of her. Well, one specific sensitive part anyway.
She tolerated his strokes for a few moments before horny Amelia emerged and went after him. He’d seen this transformation many, many times, and it never got old. Using that dirty mouth to whisper equally dirty suggestions, she tugged at his clothes. Fast and urgent. Wild. Begging him to hurry. If he hadn’t already been hard as stone, seeing that kind of need in her would have done the trick.
Harley hurried, helping her shimmy out of her jeans. Her, helping him peel off his shirt. Fast and furious didn’t mean, though, that he couldn’t take in the sights. And what a sight it was. Amelia had an amazing body. All those curves. All that soft skin.
He got in a few more fondles before she leaned over to get a condom from his nightstand drawer. Thankfully, just doing that didn’t give her a safe-sex flash that would cause her to think of those looming test results. Her putting on the condom was rote. Their routine.
But there was nothing routine when she took hold of his erection and guided it into her.
They could do this a million times, more, and it would still give him that crazy mix of scalding pleasure and send him soaring to new heights. He was never sure how she managed that, but he was thankful for it.
Amelia liked being on top, which suited him just fine because it gave him the chance to watch her while she rode him. Her hair was loose now, the long dark locks shifting and spilling onto her breasts as her body moved with the thrusts. She wouldn’t take long, he knew. Couldn’t. Something this intense just didn’t have a long shelf life and would burn out fast. The good side to that was they could usually have a slower, second round after they caught their breaths.
For now, though, Harley didn’t want his breath. He only wanted Amelia and those long, deep thrusts that slid over his erection. Squeezing him. Torturing him. Until he finally felt her release. The torture kicked up another fiery notch as her climax caused her muscles to contract, squeeze and coax him to the only place he wanted to go. He got off right along with Amelia.
With her breath gusting and her face flushed, she took a moment before she leaned down and kissed him. “Please don’t tell me you regret us doing that,” she murmured against his mouth.
Finally, Harley rediscovered his vocal abilities and said the one word she’d been telling him not to say. “No.”
* * *
AMELIA HAD TOLD Harley not to regret them having sex. And she’d meant it. She didn’t want him having any regrets.
But she certainly did.
Sex had a way of clouding judgment at a time when Harley and she needed every shred of judgment they could get. If she was pregnant, then she needed to be thinking about the future. And figuring out a way to turn down his marriage proposal without crushing him. She cared for Harley, maybe even loved him, but she didn’t want him to be locked into a marriage for the sake of a child.
Of course, that judgment-clouding reminder hadn’t stopped Amelia from having shower sex with Harley.
She could curse herself now for lapsing into that, but at the time it’d seemed necessary. It was strange how often things felt necessary with Harley.
She’d just finished putting her clothes back on when her phone rang, and Amelia practically sprained her wrist yanking it from her pocket. It got Harley’s complete attention, too, and he stopped in mid-zip to look at the phone with her. They both groaned when they saw that it wasn’t her doctor’s name on the screen.
It was her mother.
Unable to deal with the woman right now, she pressed the decline button. Just as someone knocked on the door.
She wouldn’t put it past her mother to have already been on the porch when she made the call, and while Amelia couldn’t hit a decline button for a knock, she could ignore it. Or rather she could have if the knock hadn’t turned to a pounding that seemed to shake the door.
“Amelia, it’s me,” someone called out.
This time Harley and she didn’t groan. They cursed instead. Because it was her father, Patrick.
Even though she wasn’t especially pleased with his visit, Amelia did want to get his side of the story of this breakup with her mom. She glanced in the mirror long enough to run a hand through her mussed hair, and even though she looked as if she’d just had shower sex, she still went to the door to answer it.
Her father didn’t look as if he’d been having a good day, either. There were bags under his eyes, probably from lack of sleep, and his suit was wrinkled. He also hadn’t shaved in a day or two. Or combed his hair. In a contest of which one of them looked more disheveled, her dad would win.
“Harley,” her father said, looking over her shoulder.
“Mr. Wade,” Harley greeted back.
There wasn’t any friendliness in either of their tones. Just as there hadn’t been the one and only other time they’d met. That’d been at Amelia’s house when her father had dropped by one morning for a surprise visit. But he’d been the one to get the surprise when Harley had come out of her bedroom wearing just his boxers. Other than a cool nod and an indifferent hello, her father hadn’t said anything else to Harley before he’d excused himself and told her that he’d call before he came over the next time.
Unlike her mother, her dad most likely hadn’t made any snooping trips to her place where he could have uncovered pregnancy tests.
“Your mother told you what’s going on?” her dad asked, and then he walked into the house invited.
Amelia nodded but didn’t shut the door. If her father started yelling, which was a strong possibility, she was going to get him out of Harley’s place. She might have still had some afterglow from two rounds of great sex, but her fun meter for other stuff—like her parents’ baggage—was at an all-time low.
“She slept with that singer,” her father added, making Marty’s career title sound like an unidentified fungus.
Amelia had been about to nod again, but then her father flung his hand in the direction of Harley’s small front yard. That was when she saw Marty standing there. It was amazing, but he managed to look charming even though there was nothing for him to be charming about.
“I tried to explain to Patrick that I was only with Nadine one time,” Marty volunteered.
“That’s like saying you’re a little bit pregnant,” her father grumbled, and when his narrowed gaze came back to hers, she realized someone, probably her mother, had ratted her out.
Amelia didn’t need to ask how he felt about possibly becoming a grandfather. He didn’t approve of Harley and her. But before she could borrow Liv’s word and tell her father that Harley was none of his beeswax, she heard another voice.
Her mother.
“Oh, God,” Nadine frantically called out. “You two aren’t going to fight, are you?”
Since her father and Marty weren’t anywhere close to each other, Amelia thought that possibility was jumping the gun, but there was some venom in her father’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if that was because Harley might have gotten her pregnant or because of Marty. Maybe it was both. Patrick Wade wasn’t used to having his perfect world getting a kick in the butt.
“I should punch him,” Patrick snarled, turning to face Marty.
Marty held up his hands in what might have been a charming surrender, but then he shrugged. “It seems to me, though, that you should punch yourself for not paying more attention to an attractive woman like Nadine. She wouldn’t have strayed had she been happy at home.”
“Ah, hell,” Harley cursed, summing up completely how Amelia felt. F
or such a charmer, Marty was clearly an idiot, and he’d just thrown word gasoline on a blaze created by a single dazzle-induced indiscretion.
“Excuse me?” her father said, which was man-code for you’re about to get your ass whipped.
Marty, who was perhaps accustomed to men trying to kick his ass, adjusted his hands. No more gesture of surrender. He waggled his fingers in a challenge.
“Hell,” Harley repeated when her father turned to storm out.
Amelia did some storming, too, to stop him, but Harley was faster. With a couple of long strides, he bounded down the steps and got between the two men.
“They’re going to fight,” her mother yelled to no one in particular. Apparently, her socialite training had prepared her to watch, fret and wring her hands, but it was training that Amelia had obviously failed because she ditched the hand wringing and fretting and went to stand by Harley.
“There’ll be no fights,” Amelia warned her father and Marty, and she made sure there was some meanness in her voice.
“Marty, don’t hit him,” Tracy yelled. She came running from the direction of the main house, and Liv and Darla were right behind her.
“I didn’t start this,” Marty insisted. “But I’ll damn well finish it.”
Spoken like an idiot because he had in a way started it when he’d slept with a married woman.
“You heard Amelia,” Harley snarled. “There’ll be no fights.”
“I called the sheriff,” Darla shouted. “He’ll be here any minute.”
Great. Just what they didn’t need. Amelia knew Sheriff Leyton Jameson, and he had a reputation for being a good cop, but he was also one of Marty’s “love children.” The law wouldn’t help this situation. They all needed to calm down. Unfortunately, what she was about to say probably wouldn’t accomplish that, but it might get her parents to leave.
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