by Aria Ford
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 ha
d 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 indescribably 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.
I was seated with Josh on my right, Brett on my left. Reese and Cayley were opposite me, so the only option was for Carson to sit at the head of the table, the furthest place from me.
Good, I thought.
If he had been next to me I wouldn’t have been able to help my knee touching his and then I would have been distracted all morning.
As it was, he was quiet. I sat in contented silence, the warm, melty feeling of the night before flooding my limbs with sweet sleepiness. I feel amazing.
I heard Carson cough. “Pass me the milk?” he asked.
“Sure,” Reese nodded amiably. “It’s a cold morning,” she added mildly.
“Is it?” I said. I really hadn’t noticed—my whole body was warm and drowsy and content.
They all looked at me oddly. Brett chuckled.
“It’s freezing out there,” he observed mildly. “Did you sleep, sis?” he asked, frowning at me.
“A bit,” I said. My cheeks flamed and I bit my lip, delicious shyness filling me.
After that, conversation died down. The kids kept up a lively debate about the nature of their Christmas presents, but other than that, there was little talk. I was wrapped in the haze of memories and every little thing, from the taste of berries to the smell of coffee, was new, as if my nerves had sharpened during the night. I was so happy.
After breakfast, Reese announced she had to go to town. “I need to go to the post-office…I think Mom sent something from Miami.”
“A parcel from Granny?” Josh asked, eyes shining.
“Hurray!” Cayley cried. I smiled.
“My mom spoils them,” Reese observed with a grin.
“Well, it’s only had positive effects,” I smiled at the kids. Cayley beamed at me.
“I’d better head off and shower,” Brett commented, pushing back his chair.
“Brett Carlyle. Must you beat me to it?” Reese pouted.
“Okay, okay. I’ll check my mail. You go first.”
“Thank you.”
They both laughed.
Brett headed upstairs and Carson excused himself at once. I pretended not to wish he’d stay longer. I turned to the kids.
“So,” I said. “Who wants to make decorations?”
“Me!” they shouted. I smiled.
“Okay, then. We’ll go through to the sitting room. It’s warmer in there.”
“Hurray!”
“Can we make polar bears?”
I frowned. “If you like?”
“I can draw a polar bear!” Josh announced grandly.
Listening to their chatter, I let myself sink into the quiet joy of morning.
“Amelia?”
“Mm?” I asked. I was sitting at the table in the dining-room, plaiting paper chains for the ceiling. Cayley was with me, covered in glitter, holding the other end, smooth brow furrowed with concentration. Josh had abandoned us for the attic and his cars once more.
“You’re making the gravy, right?” Brett asked me. He had evidently been cutting up onions and came from the kitchen redolent of cooking. He had a cautionary frown as if making the gravy were some intricate part of football strategy. I laughed.
“That’s right,” I said warmly. Cayley smiled up at me.
“Can I help? Are you cooking now?”
I smiled at her. “Don’t see why not!”
“Good. I want to be the best chef when I grow up. Then I’ll win all the competitions. Isn’t that nice?”
I laughed. Brett guffawed. “She’s as bad as I am,” he said. “Which reminds me. It’s my turn to make the fire. I’ve got to beat Carson!”
I laughed. Carson was good at making fires. He had lit one in me that evening too, I thought distractedly, and it was still burning fiercely, melting me from the inside. No matter how many distractions were on hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“Is there anything else you need for the gravy, Mel?” Brett’s voice interrupted me.
I bit my lip, thinking. “You have strawberry jam?”
“Yes,” he called, voice echoing from the cupboard. “It’s going into the gravy? You sure about that, right?”
I laughed. “Sure
I am! It’s my secret weapon.”
“As long as it isn’t a weapon of mass devastation,” he said. The instant the words were out of his mouth we looked at each other, both feeling awkward. I cast a guilty eye around, checking Carson wasn’t in immediate range of hearing. Making jokes about the Iraq War, however indirect the reference, wasn’t something either of us meant to do where he might hear it.
“He’s in the attic with Reese and Josh, probably.”
“Whew.”
Brett smiled and patted my hand. “I think he’s okay, Mel,” he said gently. “In fact, he’s looking good. I didn’t think he’d ever lose that stressed expression; but from yesterday he seems to have changed. Literally overnight, he looks relaxed. It must be Christmas, or something.”
I felt a glow spread through my chest. I hoped I was right, and that it was because of me that he looked happier now. I certainly felt happier.
“It could be,” I said, warmly. “I feel happier too.”
“I know. I noticed,” Brett smiled. “You look great, sis. It’s so nice to see you so happy.”
I smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair fondly. “Thanks, bro.”
I squeezed his hand and he stroked my hair like he used to when we were kids. Then he cleared his throat, looking away.
“I should go and wrap gifts,” he said. “It’s Christmas tomorrow.”
“Hell,” I said, shaking my head with amazement. “It really is. So should I.”
“I hope you haven’t spoiled me, sister,” he said, giving me an affectionate shove.
“I think I regrettably haven’t,” I said, biting my lip.
“Perfect,” Brett grinned. “Having you here’s gift enough, you know.”
“Aw,” I said, feeling my throat tight with feeling. I really didn’t know Brett cared so much. I blinked against my tears. “Thanks, bro.”
“Not at all. Now I’d better get busy. Where’s the wrapping paper.”
“It’s in the attic, Brett,” Reese called patiently from the study by the front door. “Where you put it.”
He sighed. “Thanks, sweetie.” he grinned at me. “Wives: catering for short-term memory-loss on seven continents.”
