Her brows furrowed. “It is. I know I need to lose some weight, but—”
“Lose a pound and I’d be disappointed.”
That shut her up.
“I don’t want a woman who’s just bones, Amelia. I want a real woman. That’s you.”
She winced and tried to push him away. “I’m not. You’re just…confused, that’s all.”
“If we had more time, I’d show you just how clear my thinking is. Since we don’t, I’m going to have to ask you to trust me, just a little. I know what I like, baby, and your body is it.”
She mumbled something.
“What?”
She shook her head and set the glass on the desk in front of them.
He leaned in, his shoulder brushing hers, his lips near her ear. She was wearing another set of dangly earrings, this one with threads of purple stones and beads in various shades. Her earrings were the only real pop of color she ever wore.
“What’d you say, baby?”
She sighed, a little defeated. Her words came haltingly and whispered. “I said, you wouldn’t say that if you’d seen me naked.”
Fuck, if that didn’t go straight to his cock. Just the word ‘naked’ from her full lips was enough to start the ignition sequence. “Just because I haven’t, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
At her sharp inhale, he pressed a light-as-air kiss to the hinge of her jaw, just below the tip of her earring. “You shouldn’t say that word, though, at least not at the pub.”
“Wh-which word?”
“Naked.”
He’d shifted down to her neck and her pulse beat fast against his mouth.
She swallowed, the corresponding wave in her throat pushing on his lips. “Oh. I guess I thought you wouldn’t be interested in me that way.”
His mouth fell open. “Seriously?”
Her eyes shot to his. “Wh-what?”
He cupped her face again and brought it close to his. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want you to say the word ‘naked’ because I really like the way you say it. I like it so much, my dick gets hard.”
Her eyes widened.
“Not to mention, I also start thinking about you naked, and then I think of all the things I’d like to do to you naked. Which, since we’re technically at work, is not a good place to be thinking such things.”
“Oh.”
That was a surprised ‘oh’ and he liked it a fuck of a lot. “Have you thought about what I said yesterday? About starting something with me?”
She took an immediate step back but remained in his arms.
“I take that to mean you made a decision,” he muttered.
“I don’t think we should go out,” she blurted. “Not if I’m working here.”
Damn.
“I mean, I think I might want to try, but I wouldn’t know how to act. How do I act one way at work and one way not at work? Then again, I kind of did that when Piers was my boss, though in a different way, but I didn’t really like it, and—”
This time he took a more proactive approach to her rambling.
He kissed her.
Her mouth was still talking when his lips fell, giving him the advantage of her open lips without building up to it. She let out a small yip and stilled, her eyes wide. She didn’t resist, just didn’t move.
He paused to lift her glasses and set them in her hair, giving him more access. At the sight of confused bliss in her eyes, he returned to her lips. He worked slowly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world, and there wasn’t a room full of people just down the hall.
Once he’d tasted her, Christ, he wanted more. But he had to move slowly.
Achingly, painfully slowly.
She finally began to relax, her lips now tentative against his, as if it weren’t just their first kiss, but her first kiss ever. Then, just as slowly, her tongue brushed against his.
He was gone.
He stood and drew her up and close with a low growl, banding his arms around her.
He shifted her until she sat on the edge of the desk.
He pushed forward, her legs parting for him.
When she let out a cry of surprise, he tore his mouth away.
It was too fast, too soon. He knew that.
Yet, fuck, he wanted her.
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for it to get so hot.” He righted her glasses. “It’s hard to resist you.”
She blinked. “It is?”
He pressed a soft, close-mouthed kiss to her lips. “Yeah.”
“Oh.”
Another surprised ‘oh’.
He grinned. “Right. So, a few things we need to deal with.”
She tensed and tried to push him back.
He leaned forward, keeping his body right there between her long-ass legs, and put his hands on the desk by her hips. “One, you do not need to act one way at work and another ‘not at work’. You’re here, I want you. You’re not here, I want you, too. Be you.”
She bit her lower lip and his grin disappeared.
“Two, do not ever mention that fuckwad to me again.” At her blank look, he clarified, “Piers. He’s gone, he’s out of our lives, let’s all move on.”
She slumped a little and looked away. Clearly, she didn’t believe that. He’d help her get through it. He’d earn her trust and a relationship with her, but he needed her on board to work towards that.
“Three, I want to explore things with you. You don’t want to let the other staff know, we can keep it quiet until we decide otherwise, but unless you tell me to fuck off, you’re not running from me. I want to see you. Repeatedly.”
Her forehead wrinkled.
“Finally, four, I am your boss.”
That had her looking up.
“I know it’s going to be awkward at first while we find our footing as a couple, but we’ll get through it. If, for some reason, it doesn’t work out between us, your job is safe. You may not believe that yet, but that’s because you don’t know me. When you do, you’ll know you’re safe with me, Amelia. Not just your job, but you are safe with me.”
He leaned closer and spoke gently. “You’re safe with me, baby.”
“Okay,” she said immediately.
He grinned again. “Good. Glad we got that clear.”
After he pushed back, she stood and straightened her sweater that didn’t need straightening.
“Um, Hector?”
“Yeah?”
“I may want to take things…slow.”
“Okay.”
“Like, super slow.”
Shit. His dick was going to be pissed at him, but there wasn’t anything he would do about it. He’d take his time to earn her trust, emotionally and physically. “All right. As slow or as fast as you need. We’ll take it your pace.”
She sighed in what seemed like relief.
Damn. Had some asshole taken things too fast for her? Or worse?
She carefully picked up her water glass as if it were fine china. “Should I go back out front?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second.”
She nodded but didn’t move.
“Everything all right?”
She stared at the glass, then at him, then back at the glass. She was biting her lip again.
Damn it. Had he hurt her? “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t say anything for a few moments, then shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind.”
He touched her arm gently as she passed him on her way to the door. “What is it?”
She mumbled something quickly.
“What, Amelia?”
“Can I keep this glass?”
His head jerked back. Of all the things she might’ve said, that wasn’t one he expected. “The glass? Why?”
She blushed. “Never mind.”
He stepped in her path. “Hey, if you want it, you can keep it. We’ll be getting all new as part of the refurb. We were just going to donate these to charity anyway.”
“Really?” She
smiled, really smiled, and fuck him if it didn’t light up and warm that entire dismal office.
He’d give her anything for that smile. It always left him with the kind of warmth felt after a long time of feeling cold. He hadn’t realized he’d been cold, either.
He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice as bland as possible. “Yeah. Keep it. Will you tell me why? You don’t have to tell me now, but someday?”
Her smile disappeared. Damn, he missed it already.
She pursed her lips but nodded. “Someday.”
“Someday.”
After she walked out, he smiled.
He glanced down at his legs. When he’d lost them, he hadn’t wanted a ‘someday’. He hadn’t wanted any day. He’d wanted to die rather than suffer through pain, rehab, and learning to walk again. He hadn’t wanted anything for a very long time after he came back from his last mission.
Now, he looked forward to things. He looked forward to his new prosthetics, and he looked forward to turning this place around, even if he wasn’t sure he could make it a success. He looked forward to dinners with Low and his love—Cecilia, whom Low called Lily—and their little girl, Liliana.
He pulled out the seashell Liliana had given him, the ridges of it smooth under his thumb. She hadn’t given it to him directly—it had been through Low—but it marked the start of his turning point. He’d be having dinner with them again someday soon.
He looked up and remembered Amelia as she had been moments ago, smiling bright and happy.
He was glad there was going to be a ‘someday’ with Amelia.
Chapter Four
One month later…
* * *
When Millie’s phone alarm went off, she reached out to turn it off. Then she stretched both arms and legs out before sinking back into the covers, her hands lazy above her head.
She’d dreamed of him last night. Hector. She’d replayed the kiss over and over again—as she did practically every night, and a lot during the day, if she were honest—and had finally fallen asleep imagining more than a kiss.
All that meant she’d woken up a little hot and bothered, but also comfy and rested. The last was something she’d thought she’d never be again.
Four weeks. Four almost blissful weeks of no clocking in or out, no walking home at four in the morning after the pub closed, and hours and hours of time to just be and breathe and create new beauty.
It was such a simple thing, having time to relax, but she’d so rarely had it before. Other people might take it for granted, but she never ever would; she knew how precious it was.
She sighed and turned to the side. Checking the time again, she knew she couldn’t delay.
Because of Hector.
She went to the bathroom and did her morning routine, then ambled back out to her kitchen. She lived in an efficiency or studio apartment, so there really wasn’t room for much. On top of that, it was messy, but every piece of mess was hers. She’d earned it, worked hard for it, took care of it. It might be silly, but she was proud of her mess.
Her bed doubled as a couch, and her dining table tripled as a dining area, home office, and her worktable. Right now, since it was covered in jewelry paraphernalia, it wasn’t much use for anything else.
One day, she’d be just making jewelry full-time and seeing people’s happy faces when she sold them something they loved. She’d gotten a glimpse of what that life could look like these past several weeks, and it had only made her want it more.
Someday it would happen.
She popped the kettle on and drank some juice while she waited. Right on schedule, at eight in the morning, her phone rang.
She took the call. “Hi, Hector.”
“Morning, baby.”
A ripple of warmth spread through her. His voice was always a little gruff in the morning, and she secretly loved it.
She hadn’t loved the first time he’d called her. Then, he’d woken her and found her scratchy morning voice immensely amusing, while she’d found him immensely annoying. After he’d called her again the next morning, she’d started setting her alarm to wake up before his calls so she wouldn’t be caught off guard.
It seemed like he was always catching her off guard.
Truthfully, after the first call, she hadn’t minded getting up early for him. She liked hearing his voice first thing in the morning.
“You woke up early again.”
She rolled her eyes. “You say that every morning now.”
“And you say that every morning now. It’s a tradition.”
She had a tradition with Hector. Since he wasn’t there to see it, she grinned.
“What are you up to today, baby?”
Another ‘baby’. He’d said that a lot, too. Nearly a month of calls and it never got old. “Same old. You?”
She could hear the sounds of traffic in the background. He was still living at the MARC—the Masillian Advanced Recovery Centre, which the Captain established and ran for injured soldiers—until the pub was finished.
“Got the roofers coming today. If the rain holds out, they should get some of the roof done. Plumbing and electrical prep is going on, too, and they’ll be ready to start tomorrow. Today’s the last day to see the Royal Court before it gets gutted and renamed. Why don’t you come by?”
Her soft intake of breath was muffled by the sound of her kettle. She turned it off and reached for her tea mug.
“Amelia?”
She hitched the phone between her ear and shoulder, leaving both hands free to make her tea. “I—maybe.”
“Hmm.”
It was an answer she’d given a lot over the last few weeks.
Why don’t you come over, and I’ll show you the plans for the pub? Maybe.
Why don’t we go out to dinner? Maybe.
Why don’t I come over and pick you up? We’ll spend the afternoon together.
That last was a firm no.
She liked the phone calls, loved them if she were honest with herself. But a phone call was safe and easy. It was harder to think straight and protect herself when he was standing in front of her in all his hotness.
Plus, it was harder to disappoint him on the phone. He may not like her ‘maybes’ but he still called every day. What would happen if he saw her every day instead, and realized that maybe she was better as a friend and not worth the time for something more?
She didn’t want to face that reality. So, she clung to her maybes.
“Amelia—”
Her phone beeped an incoming call and she glanced at the screen. She didn’t recognize the caller, but she gave her number out to potential customers in case they wanted something custom-made. It was early for a call, but she didn’t want to lose a customer by not answering it.
She put the phone back to her ear. “I’ve got another call. Have a good day, okay?”
He paused, the sound of the morning rush hour filling the silence. “All right, baby. You have a good day, too.”
She mumbled goodbye, stuck a smile on her face, and answered the other call. “Hi! This is Millie of Rainfall Designs. How can I help you?”
“You fucking bitch.”
Every cell in her body locked for two seconds. The sound of his voice permeated her senses and sent a chill washing through her, and her fingers let go of the mug. It shattered on the floor in a mess of cracked ceramic and scalding liquid that burned her feet.
She hissed and jumped back.
Shit!
“That’s right little bastard sister. They finally let me out on bail while I’m waiting for my trial. My. Fucking. Trial. That’s on you. You put me in there.”
Piers.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
She couldn’t deal with him. It had been weeks without him. Weeks without his abuse, his insults, taunting, and torments. Being able to relax wasn’t just about not working until she collapsed. Relaxing was also about avoiding negative people and the way they constantly tried to bring her down.
P
iers was really good at bringing her down.
Weeks without him meant her defenses were down. She wasn’t in survival mode. She was in ‘enjoying-morning-talks-with-Hector-mode’.
Piers was still talking, still saying nasty things and blaming her for everything.
She did the only thing she could do.
She hung up.
She was breathing as if she’d just run a mile in a minute. Her feet were on fire, her vision slightly hazy, her mind reeling, and her pajama bottoms soaked.
Because the kitchen was so small, she was able to hunch over and reach the sink without needing to move much. She turned the water ice cold and held a towel under it. When it saturated, she wrung it out with shaky hands.
When her phone rang again, she ignored it.
She rubbed the cool towel over her face a couple times, then sunk down to the floor in a squat so she wouldn’t end up sitting in a pool of tea.
She gently placed the towel on her feet, whimpering when the cool met the inflamed skin. Her foot was burned but not cut. She brushed gently, wiping away tea and errant bits of mug.
Her lower lip was wobbling when she reached out for the mug’s handle, which was still attached to a shard of the mug. On it, in children’s handwriting, she could see est and mmy.
She’d given that to her mother. A school project that she’d made into a gift.
World’s Best Mommy. Five minutes earlier, that’s what the mug had said.
Now it lay destroyed and, for some odd reason, she felt as though she’d just lost her mother all over again. Her mother wasn’t dead, but with the dementia, she never remembered her anymore.
Her mother stopped remembering the mug only a year ago. It agitated her, so the staff at her nursing home had asked Millie to take it away. In fact, they’d asked her to reduce the number of visits she made, too.
She’d stopped remembering Millie a year and a half ago. Wasn’t that just a kick in the ass? Her mother had remembered the mug for longer than she had remembered her own daughter. Then again, her mother hadn’t kept her for long, discarding her at age eight, but she’d clearly kept the mug for longer, so maybe it made sense.
Sniffling, she threw the towel on the floor and it slowly began absorbing the tea.
Rush (Hector & Millie) (Seaside Valleria #1) Page 6
