by Mia Ford
“To be honest with you,” she said. “I've been pretty lonely myself lately. Since breaking up with Charlie.”
“So that douche was your ex,” I said, shaking my head. “I kinda figured, but was hoping I was wrong about that. He was just so – douchey.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that he is. But he managed to hide it from me for a long time He's apparently a good actor, what can I say?”
Our eyes met, and in that moment, I couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare into those emerald green eyes and revel in her beauty. She was stunning and yet, didn't seem to understand or even believe that she was. Amelia seemed completely unaware that she was absolutely gorgeous.
“Well, I guess at least with me, you know what you're getting into,” I said softly.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you already know going in the door that I'm fucked up in the head.”
She cringed and pulled her hand back, and for a moment, I thought maybe it was because I'd scared her away. But she surprised me by looking into my eyes and giving me a gentle smile.
“You're not fucked up in the head, Drew. If anyone knows that, it's me,” she said. “You've been through a lot. More than most people can even imagine. And some really heavy, traumatic stuff. What happened over there has affected you, but it doesn't have to define you.”
“So it doesn't scare you away?”
“Not at all. I'm here, aren't I?”
Chapter Eleven
AMELIA
“You know, you don't have to come home with me if you don't want to,” he said, looking down at me with a serious look in his eyes. “I don't want you to feel pressured into doing something you're not comfortable with or just don't want to do. It's okay to say so, you know.”
“Hush,” I said, leaning forward and kissing those soft lips of his for the first time since our night together – and they were every bit as delicious now as they had been then. “I wouldn't be coming home with you if I didn't want to. I'm not the type of girl who lets herself get talked into doing things I don't want to do. I make my own decisions, thank you very much.”
The Uber drive pulled to a stop outside of Drew's house, and that's when it clicked. The large house wasn't because he was married or had a family. It was the exact opposite, in fact. He'd lost his family and the only thing he had left was his home. Large and beautiful, but heart-breaking at the same time. Especially since it was just him and his demons.
That was probably why there was a lack of anything sentimental or personal in there. That's why it seemed so sterile and barren. The memories were just too overwhelming for him in that moment. It was sad and really highlighted just how alone in the world he was. It made my heart go out to him.
“You know,” I said with a laugh, “I was so worried you were married or had kids that first night. I thought you were a cheater and I was just your side piece for the night.”
“Nah,” he said, smiling as we walked in together hand-in-hand. “No wife. Never had the time for a relationship before. Not while I was overseas. I never understood how the other guys could manage it, it just seemed too painful to be apart from somebody you cared about for so long.”
“I can imagine,” I said softly. “Being so far away, hardly getting to talk, let alone –”
“And dying,” he added. There was a distant look in his eyes for a moment, then he turned to me and gave me a soft smile before he elaborated. “Mason was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him when he got home. She made him so happy – he practically glowed whenever he mentioned her name. But that obviously, never happened.”
I had no words that could express how terribly sad that was, so instead, I just said, “I'm sorry, Drew.”
He sighed as he opened his front door. “It is what it is,” he said. “Carrie eventually moved on. Last I heard, she was engaged to a banker or a lawyer or something. Somebody who wasn't getting deployed to shithole countries where they get shot at day in and day out – guys who probably had a really minimal risk of dying in an IED explosion.”
We stepped inside and Drew took my coat, placing it on the rack beside the door. We walked down the hallway – the same hallway I'd used to sneak out of his house a week or so before – and sat in the living room, on the very couch we'd had sex on. I couldn't help but blush at the memories as they came rushing to the surface. And I could tell Drew was feeling somewhat awkward about it all too. Neither of us said much. We sat there staring at each other for a long moment. And eventually, the awkwardness faded and the silence became – companionable.
Drew pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear and smiled. “If I'm being honest, I always wanted what Mason had,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“With Carrie. I always wanted that. That sort of deep, abiding love and stability. I wanted it even though I mocked him for it relentlessly. The truth of the matter was that I wasn't sure anyone would have me the way Carrie and Mason had each other.”
Reaching out, I stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes as he leaned into my touch. “I don't know why you'd think something silly like that. You're gorgeous.”
“And fuck –”
“You're not fucked up in the head!” I said, cutting him off before he could finish that thought. “Stop that.”
“Sorry, hard to break the thought process, I guess,” he said. “It was a process that started long before I enlisted.”
“I figured as much,” I said. “But we're going to work on that, okay?”
“You're not my therapist anymore,” he teased. “Makes it kinda hard to work on it with you.”
“I don't have to be your personal therapist,” I said. “I can still help you become a better person.”
He looked at me for a long moment and then gave me a warm, genuine smile – the first I'd ever seen cross his face.
“I'd like that, Amelia,” he said. “I'd like that a lot.”
The way he said my name, as if it was some sort of delicate flower, was nice to hear. After hearing him call me nothing but Dr. Emerson for days, it was refreshing to hear my first name on his lips. Which speaking of lips – Drew leaned forward and kissed me, his soft, full lips pressed to mine as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I felt his hand in my hair, gently pulling on it as I kissed him back, relishing in the sensation of his lips against mine.
“Not here,” he said, pulling back.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my desire growing by the second.
I wanted him, and I wanted him right then and there. But if not there, then where?
“Let's go to the bedroom,” he said. “I mean, if you want to.”
This Drew was a different animal than the one I'd met that first night. He was actually somewhat sweet – now that we were looking at something different, something potentially more than just a one-night stand. I could get used to seeing that side of him.
“Yes, please,” I said.
We moved to the bedroom, where Drew laid me down on my back, planting a line of soft kisses all the way down my neck as he undressed me. He moved slowly this time, was more deliberate knowing that there was no reason to rush. No reason to hurry. I wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he.
Drew moved between my legs, placing his mouth on my most intimate parts. My body moved upward as his tongue circled my clit. He took his time and savored my body, kissing and licking and sucking before fucking me with his tongue. When he finally slid his tongue inside of me, I thought I was going to come. My body shuddered and my eyes rolled back in my head. Needless to say, it felt amazing.
The way he used his mouth was magical, sending me to the brink of orgasm within a matter of minutes. The first orgasm hit me hard and fast, and I held onto Drew's head, pushing his tongue deeper inside of me as my body writhed on the bed underneath him.
Just as my orgasm subsided and my heartrate came down to somewhere below somebody who'd just run a marathon, Drew looked up at me, my juices on his lips and smiled. God, I
wanted him inside of me. Need it. And in that moment, that's the only thing I wanted, so I pulled him up until he was on top of me, his cock pressing against my opening.
This time, I managed to say, “Wear a condom, please,” before he plunged into my depths.
Drew reached over to his nightstand, pulled out a rubber and slipped it over his cock, which already had pre-cum brimming at the top. He reached back in the drawer and pulled out some lube – for which I was grateful – and stroked it down the length of his shaft until it was glistening.
It was going to be a whole different experience with this bit of preparation – but I knew it was going to be just as amazing. Of that, I had no doubts.
Once he was wrapped up, I reached out and took him into my hand, stroking him before placing him against my opening once more. He pushed himself inside of me, stretching my pussy as it swallowed up his big, thick cock. My entire body shuddered as he entered me and I let out a low groan. I raised myself up to meet his thrust, our bodies becoming one as the pleasure took hold of me.
He stared down into my eyes as he gently moved in and out of my warm, wet pussy, taking time to get used to one another and enjoying every second of it. He was raised above me, his strong arms holding him up, his body already covered in sweat from fucking me. I leaned upward, kissing him as I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on for dear life.
Together, we found a rhythm that worked perfectly for us. He thrust inside of me as I moved up to meet his body, as we groaned with pleasure in unison.
“Drew, oh Drew...” I said, my head thrashing from side to side.
It felt so nice to say his name – to know his name – before having him inside of me again. If I'd thought what we shared before was amazing, this time was ten times better. The intimacy, the connection between us was deeper, stronger – and that always made the sex way better.
And that's how I came a second time, with him on top of me, staring down into my eyes like I was a Goddess – and in that moment, I truly felt like one too. When I was with him, I felt like there was no other woman but me for him. I never caught him sneaking a peek at the tight ass of some sweet, young waitress, or some chick on the street with a top cut so low, her tits were hanging out. When he was with me, I felt like the only woman in the world for him.
As he pumped his cock into me again and again, I let out a scream and he held onto me. My orgasm subsided soon after, but he continued moving in and out of me with an expert pace. I writhed underneath him and scratched at his back as he fucked me, unable to control myself as I called out his name over and over again.
“Yes, Amelia... Oh God, yes,” he said, his body beginning to tremble.
The way he said my name – with such a depth of feeling – and the way he looked at me. It was perfect.
Drew groaned, his eyes closing as his breath grew ragged and shallow. I knew he was fighting the need to explode inside of me. He was trying so hard to keep going, to extend our pleasure. And as much as I wanted the pleasure to never end, I also loved knowing I drove him this crazy enough that he couldn't control himself.
I clenched my vaginal muscles around his cock, squeezing him tight as he pounded himself deep into me. His body shook violently and his eyes flew open as he stared down at me, a look of near panic on his face as he completely lost all control.
“Oh God...” he moaned, his words becoming nothing but animalistic grunts and groans as he thrust that big, beautiful cock deep inside of me one last time.
Seeing the look on his face as he thrust himself deep into me made me come again. Hard. We came together as one, our bodies thrashing wildly as we lost all control, letting the pleasure take hold of the both of us. And we stared into each other's eyes, revelling in the look on his face, as we experienced one of the best orgasms of my entire life.
Drew collapsed beside me, letting out a deep breath. “Wow,” he said.
“Wow indeed,” I replied. “Though it seems like a vast understatement.”
We both stared off into space for a moment, revelling in that post-sex glow. But then he turned and kissed me. Deeply. Passionately. There was a lot behind that kiss – a lot more than just sex. It was a kiss with real feeling. And real meaning.
“Thank you, Amelia,” he said.
“For what?” I laughed. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“Not for the sex – although I should, it was pretty amazing,” he said and laughed. “But for coming back. For not running away from me.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say in that moment – as ridiculous as it sounded.
I really had no words to say to that. I was happy that I came back too. This wasn't just for him; it was for me as well. I was getting chilly, so I pulled the covers up and nestled myself down deep into them. His bed was so cozy, so soft, and so wonderfully warm. I could probably die right then and there – after mind-blowing sex and in the most comfortable bed I'd ever been in – and have been perfectly happy.
“Promise me one thing, please?”
“What's that?”
“Promise me you won't sneak out in the middle of the night again,” he said. “Because I'd really like to make you breakfast this time.”
“That sounds nice,” I said. “Really nice.”
And Drew pulled me close, my head resting on his bare chest, and I thought to myself – I could really get used to this.
BOOK 3: CRUSH
Chapter One
“Belle!”
My head snapped up and I saw my roommate and best friend, Alexa, bounding across the kitchen. She grinned at me as she dumped a handful of pasta into a pot full of boiling water on the stove.
“Hey,” I said with a grin. Setting my backpack down on a chair, I did a lazy twirl across the hardwood floor. It felt good to be home – especially considering today had been my last week of classes before finals. I’d worked my ass off this week, and I really needed a break.
“I’m making dinner,” Alexa said dryly. She grabbed a jar of marinara sauce and started unscrewing the lid. “This looks good, right?”
I snickered. “You’re not supposed to put that in until the pasta’s done,” I said as kindly as I could. Alexa had never really been prone to making good meals. In the two-and-a-half years that we’d been living together, I’d done the vast majority of the cooking. But I didn’t mind – that was one of the things that made me and Alexa work so well as roommates. Sure, we were good friends. But we also knew our strengths: I was a better cook, and Alexa wasn’t bad at cleaning…and gossip.
“Thanks, sous chef,” Alexa teased. She set the sauce down on the counter and sighed dramatically. Her big blue eyes widened as she slapped her hand against her forehead. “I had the worst day,” she added.
I frowned, knowing a story was coming. “Oh, yeah? Tell me about it,” I replied. Moving my bag from the chair to the floor, I slid down in the chair, making sure to keep one eye on the stove. Alexa’s dramatics were nothing new, and I knew from experience that it was a good idea to keep track of time. Knowing my best friend as well as I did, I knew her story could take hours.
“Well, I ran into Jared,” Alexa said. She paused for dramatic effect.
“And?” I rolled my eyes. “What happened?”
“Only the worst thing ever.” Alexa pranced from one end of the kitchen to the other, swinging her graceful arms through the air like she was practicing dance.
I giggled. “He ignored you?”
Alexa’s nostrils flared. “Worse,” she complained. “He made this huge thing about how we hadn’t talked in forever! And he tried to hug me!”
I snickered. “Heaven forfend, a man try to touch you.”
Alexa smirked. “Well, I could tell he missed me.” Irritation spread over her features and she flopped down into another kitchen chair. “But that’s not the point.”
I stood up and walked over to the stove, poking at the pasta with a wooden spoon. It was still a touch too stiff for my liking, so I set a lid down on the pot
and watched the cloudy water swirling around. Cooking had always been soothing for me, even though I hadn’t done much of it growing up. We’d always had a maid, and a cook, and usually a sommelier…although my stepdad, Mitchell, had been talking for years about how he wanted to learn more about wine himself.
Even though it sounds like I grew up really rich, the truth is a little more complicated than that. When I was twelve, my mother Anne married Mitchell Rhodes – real estate mogul and consulting pro. He’d made billions from New York City real estate over the past few decades, and he lived like a king. Before Mom met Mitchell, our life was pretty boring. We’d lived in Buffalo, in a little apartment with bad insulation and no heat in the long winters. Mom had fallen for Mitchell when she’d met him in New York, on a trip with her girlfriends. He’d swept her off her feet, and they’d married within the year.
Mom had teased me when I was younger. I could still see her happy face now as she stroked my hair and pulled me into a tight hug. “I named you Belle because you were my little princess,” Mom had said. “But now you’re really going to be a princess!”
In reality, things had been a little murkier than that. Mitchell had always been kind to me, but it was clear that he didn’t have much interest in being a stepfather. And his son, Jackson, my stepbrother, was an asshole. There weren’t any other words I could use to describe him. He was a perfect, smug, gorgeous asshole.
Just thinking about him made me want to shudder. I hadn’t spoken to him in years – Jackson is nine years my senior, and thankfully he left Mitchell’s house as soon as he turned eighteen so we never even lived under the same roof. The last time I’d seen him, when I was sixteen, he’d spent the whole afternoon flirting with me. I’d been so taken by his charms that I hadn’t even noticed that my period had started. But Jackson had, and he tricked me into exposing my bloodstained butt to a roomful of people…. everyone waiting to wish Mitchell a happy fiftieth birthday.
