by Aria Ford
I had forgotten how gentle and strong his hands were, how they clung, just a little, as if each part of me were precious as silk. I leaned against him and moaned as his mouth moved gently over mine.
I had just showered and was dressed in my new nightgown, a soft cotton slip all that stood between me and the soft cotton of the gown. When my body leaned against his, I could feel his lean hardness pressed to me and my arms tensed, drawing him closer.
He moaned and I felt a tightness in his lower body, pressing myself against the bulge in his pants. Suddenly, my need was all-consuming and I reached up, stroking a hand through his hair.
“Carson,” I murmured.
“Amelia!”
It was a low whisper, full of urgency. We kissed again. Then, abruptly, we were on the bed. I leaned into him and his body pressed to mine. I found myself lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling, as his hands stroked my body with a slow urgency.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Oh, yes.”
He sat back and his hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. I reached up and joined him, unfastening them with fevered wanting. My own hand was shaking and his was too. That surprised me. I wrapped my body around his, sitting behind him, my arms holding him loosely as my fingers struggled with the shirt. He chuckled.
“Oh, baby. You make me want you.”
I smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I want you, Carson Grant.”
I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything before. Suddenly, all restraint was gone. Our hands tore at our clothing. I moaned as he pressed me back onto the bed and his hands moved over me. The gown was gone, torn away in one firm yank by his strong hands. Lying on my back, wearing only a silky-soft shift, I looked into his eyes.
“Carson,” I murmured.
“Amelia.”
His lips were hungry on mine, his tongue warm and thick and mobile as it pressed between my lips, plundering my mouth with delicious urgency. My whole body responded and I leaned back, wanting to give myself to him. His hands slid down my body, moving the straps.
He kissed my neck and then moved lower. My body tensed as he sampled my breast. I groaned and tipped my head back as he cupped one breast and licked the other. He looked into my eyes.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Oh, Carson. I want you.”
He removed my shift and then his own trousers. We lay beside each other on the bed. He ran his hands down my body with that same slowness he always employed, the way he made me feel as if I was the most desirable woman alive.
He stroked lower and I shivered as he moved his hand to between my thighs. His fingers played in my slippery moistness, and I heard him groan. The sound aroused me like nothing else, and suddenly I wanted him. I moved my legs apart and stroked his back, trying to nudge him in the right direction. His brown eyes looked into mine with a sweet expression, as if asking permission.
“Yes,” I moaned for the second time. “Please.”
He took the invitation as I meant it and knelt between my legs. I looked up at his body. He was made of muscle, his torso gleaming in the soft light of the bedroom. I reached up to him as he knelt down and stroked my hand along his rippling biceps. He moved lower, his hand searching for me as he got ready to slide inside.
“Oh yes,” I murmured as he lined up with my opening. Then nothing made sense anymore as he filled me. My mind flew away and only my body was left, curved around the fullness of him.
As his body withdrew and slid back in again, I closed my eyes. It had been so many years since he had lain with me, so long since I had felt this, but he still fit me perfectly. Our bodies knew each other like we knew the palms of our hands. They moved in perfect synchrony, his pressing on mine in exactly the way I loved, my heart thudding with the long-lost familiar timing as he thrust in me, first slow, then accelerating.
“Oh, oh. Oh.”
I didn’t know which of us was moaning more loudly as I moved and he moved, withdrawing and pushing, and then we were both thrusting long and hard and urgent. His cock filled me and seemed to be growing as I pushed against him. His head probed in me, rubbing against the sensitive spot just inside me as we moved and I felt my own body start to throb with longing.
I’m about to come.
My body lit up like a flare and I could feel the climax growing inside me and growing and growing…I was shaking and clenching and shivering and my whole body was filling and filling with need.
“Oh!”
I cried out aloud and he kissed my lips, swallowing my cries. I leaned back and let him push into me again and again and again until he cried out too, biting his lip, face contorted, not to shout.
I reached up and wrapped him in my arms and he collapsed against me. I stroked his back and he lay on my shoulder and we stayed like that until we both fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Carson
When I woke up, I couldn’t quite believe it. I was lying on Amelia, my face in her neck. I rolled over very softly, so as not to wake her. I half-sat, planning to creep away. I hadn’t been able to resist her, hadn’t been able to stop this happening. But I should have.
She breathed out slowly, those moist pink lips lightly parted. I felt myself aroused again by the sweetness of her face. She looked so lovely lying there, so inviting that my groin hardened, and I groaned.
“Carson?”
“Amelia,” I whispered. I bent down and kissed her hair. “I should go.”
“I know,” she said. Her eyes were open now, twin pools of ocean. I felt the tug to stay with her, to drown in her soft loveliness until I sank, traceless, into it. But I couldn’t. I felt a sudden panic. I had to leave. How could I do this?
All those years ago, when I had been twenty-one and infinitely more sensible than I was now it seemed, I had known how important it was to break up—how imperative it was not to take her heart to battle with me. Now, ten years later, I was fighting another battle: the enemy might have been invisible and inside me, but I was still embattled and it was not right to bring her to the space of conflict within me.
“Amelia.” I kissed her lips, then stood up, looking about, blinking, for my shirt and pants. What if Brett had looked for me? What would he be thinking now? What if?
She moaned, a sweet soft noise, and all thoughts were banished from my mind, fleeing this beautiful space like darkness when the curtains part. I felt my heart surge.
I shrugged on my shirt and sat down on the bed, drawing on my briefs. Amelia moved and knelt beside me, arms around my shoulders. I kissed her arm.
“I have to go,” I repeated gently.
“I know,” she whispered into my hair.
I dressed hastily and stood, then kissed her in the doorway. She molded herself to me in that sweet way that drove me crazy. I breathed out a big sigh and stroked her hair.
I looked into her eyes, feeling my own eyes moist again. I blinked rapidly and turned away.
When I shut the door behind me I felt bereft. My heart was on the other side of that door and I left it, an empty voyager, walking without direction to my room. I collapsed on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.
“Carson Grant, you’re stupid.”
I was being an absolute fool. I was in love with her. What could I do?
I wanted her so badly that my body was already twitching, already wanting her. I couldn’t believe it! How could I have let this happen? I had been so good, so diligent, in walking away. Now I had gone and started it all off again, made myself love her and set the whole pattern off again.
I sighed. I should go and shower. I slid out of the clothes again and drew on a robe, heading out into the hallway.
In the shower, the dark thoughts fell away. The smell of mint-scented shower gel wreathed me and with it the glow of happiness and wonder came back. I forgot about all the negatives and dwelt on the sweet wonder of my memories. I thought about the way she kissed me, her long arms around me, the way she groaned.
Oh, my. I want you so much, Amelia
. My love.
I closed my eyes, stinging with soap and tears of need. I had many other women during my time in the army, but Amelia had always been the one who held my heart. She was the woman of my heart; therefore I should protect her against myself.
I turned off the shower and dried myself, then went back to my room. I tried to get some emails written, but my mind was elsewhere. It was, to be precise, beside Amelia. Thinking of her, replaying each delicious second.
“Oh, God.”
I didn’t want to but I knew I should end this. I couldn’t keep on paying more and more of myself into this doomed situation. I loved Amelia as I ever had. And, when I was twenty-one, I had the basic sense to break things off. Why, now, ten years later, couldn’t I do the same? I knew what I had to do: I had to make her hate me before the feelings between us overwhelmed us both.
I closed my eyes and clenched my hands. I couldn’t do this. I had to think of some way round this constant ache for her. I had to do something. I couldn’t just go with my feelings on this or I would ruin her life. I wouldn’t let myself destroy her. Never again.
***
When Carson left, I stayed where I was. I wouldn’t have moved, just then, for anything in the world. My body was filled with a wild happiness and at once I was so relaxed I thought I might die.
“I can’t quite believe it.”
I couldn’t. I was sitting in my nightie, my arms around myself. I could still smell Carson and could still feel him touching me. I shivered, stood and drew on my nightgown.
The memories of the previous evening played around my mind. The feel of his strong hands on my skin. The way his mouth explored me. The sweet fullness as he slid inside me, banishing all thought except the wild need to push against him, faster and faster and faster until I screamed with pleasure.
Part of me couldn’t quite believe that what happened was real. That I had actually slept with Carson here, on this bed. I touched the covers, letting the satiny microfiber of the cover slide under my palm. Here was where he had lain. It still felt warm.
Oh, Carson. I love you.
I wrapped my arms around myself and thought about what had just happened. I couldn’t have felt more wonderful if I tried. My mind soared and my heart was full.
I sighed. I should probably wash, I thought. Somehow, I didn’t want to clean the scent of him from my skin. I looked at the clock. It was 10:00 p.m. I chuckled a little shakily. We had been together for about an hour. It was the most wonderful way to spend an hour. I stretched, feeling every muscle warm and relaxed.
I felt wonderful.
I headed into the hallway for a shower, finding myself drawn to where his room was just across the landing from mine. I looked at the door, smiling, and slipped into the bathroom, which was opposite the door that led to his room. As the shower sluiced hot water over me, I closed my eyes and recalled the sweetness of his hands on my body, the way his fingers slid over me, seeking out my places of pleasure.
I washed myself and dried my hair, then headed back to my room. I had meant to compare my and Jess’s books, making a last check. As I fired up my laptop I found I was filled with a giddy, happy energy. Working didn’t seem so hard.
I set about checking the columns and I even found myself calculating the tax return. Everything was easy and pleasant now that I had Carson beside me. My heart was in a place of joy it hadn’t been, I realized, for years.
I have always loved Carson.
It was a surprise to me, even though I think on one level I always knew the truth of it. I loved Carson and there was no other man who had ever made me feel as he did.
When I had finished checking the taxes I rolled onto my back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.
I am so happy.
Of all the strange and wonderful things that might have happened for Christmas, this was the absolute last one I would have expected. It was only the twenty-third of the month, for Heaven’s sakes! In three days, my life had changed.
I grinned and leaned back, hugging myself. I slid under the covers, recalling each delicious instant of our time together.
My body heated with longing as I thought of his lips, pushed onto mine, his body, hard cock pulsing, thrust in me. I longed to feel it.
I knew, without the slightest doubt in my mind, that Carson was the man I would always want. I also knew that he could be difficult sometimes. But it didn’t matter to me; not at all. He was the man I wanted.
“Carson,” I murmured as I lay there, snuggled under the coverlet, my nose filled with the musk of his scent. “I love you.”
I wished I could have whispered it to him as he nestled close to me. But I hoped, in my heart, that saying it was enough. I felt sure he would know that; that he would read the message in my eyes and know I loved him.
I fell asleep looking forward to breakfast.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Carson
It isn’t often that I wake up beside the girl of my dreams. I dragged myself from Amelia’s bed with a heart that floated in heaven.
When I reached my own bedroom, my mood abruptly plummeted. I sighed. What had I been thinking? Had I been thinking? What had I done?
I sat down on my own bed and covered my face with my hands.
Carson Grant, you are stupid.
I rolled onto my side, feeling completely wretched. I had let my longing rule me. I was always scathing about other people thinking with the head of their cock, not their own head. Now I’d done it. I groaned.
It wasn’t just longing. A small voice in my head reminded me reasonably that Amelia wasn’t just about physical arousal. It was everything about her. My heart wanted her as much as my mind, as much as my body.
When she came in and found me on the floor, my heart had opened to her and we had built a new trust between us. That closeness had led to now. To us spending the night together. I sighed.
I did want her. I don’t regret it. Not at all.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself the indulgence of reliving the memories. Pushing myself inside her hot, tight well. Riding her slowly, then fast. The way she sighed under me. I groaned.
The memories that followed were more gentle and more moving—her snuggled close, her head on my shoulder. The way her skin smelled, the feel of her, warm in my arms. Her hand on my chest. I sat up, not wanting to let my mind go there.
No, Carson.
I had made things worse for myself, I realized that painfully. I had allowed myself to remember the paradise of her bed. And now I had to move away.
I will hurt her.
I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let myself get close to her, settle down, wreak all the destruction that hid inside me, on her. She deserved better.
But what could I do? I had sent her a clear message: a true message. I love you.
I didn’t know how to send the equally-clear, equally-true message: I cannot commit to you.
I was in no state, I thought ruefully, to actually commit to a job. Never mind a person. It scared me. If an accident happened at work, or someone cheeked me, I would probably lose it with them, too, get myself fired. And there was no way my sweetheart should face something I wouldn’t do to a boss.
I looked out onto the dark garden, the leaves rustling in a fitful breeze. The restlessness suited my mood and I had to remind myself how cold it was out there, fight the temptation to go out and walk, and walk…
That’s not a good idea. I need to think of a plan. If I could fix the problem, maybe I could forgive myself.
But what could I do about this? I’d really landed myself in the deep end: I could hardly just act like nothing happened, could I?
How am I supposed to keep a distance?
I had moved things on to another level and now I wanted them to go back to yesterday. Which was impossible.
I went back to the bed and slid into it, trying to separate my mind from the thought of her lying next door. My mind went off fantasizing again. I recalled the taut breasts, the pale thighs, the indesc
ribably good feeling of being inside.
As my cock hardened and I gritted my teeth, knowing that, if I thought about her much more I would actually climax here and now, I came up with a plan.
I needed Amelia to see what Brett had seen. She knew something about my vulnerability. Now she needed to see my cruelty. My brokenness.
I would show it to her. If I did nothing else, I would manage to get it right: I would manage to make her hate me.
It was a bitter thought and it did not help me rest. But I must have eventually done so because I woke the next morning to soft daylight and the kettle, boiling downstairs.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Amelia
Most of the next morning passed in a dreamy haze. I guessed that anyone looking at me for longer than three seconds would notice how happy I was, but I couldn’t hide it. I knew I should, because if anyone noticed they would ask questions that didn’t have easy answers. I didn’t want to hide it, though.
“You’re cheerful, sis,” Reese had observed that morning when I sat down to breakfast.
“It is almost Christmas,” I had said, smiling blandly. That seemed to be a good excuse, but I wasn’t sure if it would be enough to fool my sharp-eyed relative. Even my voice sounded happy.
“That makes sense,” she said. She glanced at me shrewdly and I blushed.
I had broken eye contact before she caught the silly, drowsy look in my eye and guessed once and for all what was on my mind.
Well, who was on my mind would have been a more accurate description.
My mind was full of Carson. When he came down to breakfast, my eyes went to him immediately. My heart felt as if someone stabbed it, so sudden and overwhelming was the feeling that possessed me.
“Hi, everyone,” he said. He looked as if he hadn’t slept. I couldn’t help smiling. I looked quickly away. Brett was looking at us and I knew it was only a matter of time before he guessed.
“Hi,” I said softly.
He looked into my eyes. We couldn’t look away. He broke the gaze. It was just as well. The silence had already stretched a little, as if Brett and Reese were looking at us oddly. I coughed. Carson walked in and looked for somewhere to sit, studiously avoiding glancing my way.
