Claiming Amelia

by Jessica Blake

  Either way, I wanted to rip his throat out.

  Neither heard me approach, and I picked up just a snippet of their conversation.

  “Do you have to leave right now? I figured we could catch up,” he was saying as Amelia gathered her things and held them to her.

  His look was dark, as if he was insulted that she wasn’t falling all over herself to stay at this shitty little coffee shop with him and discuss whatever bullshit he’d invented to lure her here. If I was a different man, if I was the man I’d been destined to be thanks to my last name, I would have pounded him into the floor right then and there.

  Instead, I got my anger under control and took a deep breath before speaking.

  “As a matter of fact, she is leaving right now.”

  The man’s blue eyes shot straight to me, but Amelia didn’t turn around. I noticed her shoulders relax slightly, and later she might give me hell about showing up, but in that moment, I knew she was grateful that I’d arrived when I did. And it sent a surge of emotion through me that I had a hard time processing.

  “And who the hell are you?” Trevor Leonard wasn’t exactly a small man, but he was a good three or four inches shorter than me, and he was soft. We both worked jobs that required a significant amount of office time, but I made staying in shape a priority and lived my life so that there was plenty of discipline and accountability.

  Trevor Leonard lived “under the table,” feeding off the hands of a two-bit thug family and obviously didn’t take care of himself. The last time he’d seen the inside of a gym had to be a decade ago, I thought with a laugh. He had a bit of a belly pushing against his button-up shirt and the beginnings of a double chin. Probably not bad looking at this stage in life, but the man was heading for heart disease, obesity, and most likely at some point in time, prison.

  One hell of a catch, right? And he had the nerve to look offended that someone as beautiful and smart as Amelia Byrne wasn’t interested in spending an afternoon with him over lukewarm coffee and stale pickup lines.

  “I’m her boyfriend, Declan Casey,” I said with absolutely zero hesitation. Amelia snapped her head up and looked at me over her shoulder, those blue eyes going wide at the words.

  I’d given it zero thought up until that moment, but the truth had flown from my lips with no trouble whatsoever. She was mine. I knew it. She knew it, even if she was still convinced she was headed out West soon.

  “Is that so?” The guy still had a bit of attitude in him that I wanted to throttle, but I grinned at him.

  “For the record, you don’t talk to her without her lawyer present, you understand?” I marched forward and pulled a business card from my wallet and tossed it on the table in front of him. It belonged to my lawyer, and I made sure to keep a few on hand so I didn’t have to deal with idiots like this. “Harass her again, and I’ll own your ass, Leonard.”

  Amelia was on her feet now and turning toward me. I put my hand out, a crucial moment, and waited to see what she would do. In reality, she had every right to walk past me and storm out for intruding on her business.

  But, just as I hoped she would, she shot me a look that promised me a few words later on but put her small hand in mind and allowed me to lead the way out to the car where Brennan waited. He’d driven us to lunch today and was going to give us a lift to my condo.

  I felt her hand trembling in mine and swore I’d take a pound of flesh from that asshole for every worry he’d given her. Once she was situated in the back seat, I got in next to Brennan and nodded.

  For his part, Brennan knew not to question her yet. We’d get back to my place, let her collect herself, and make our plan.

  ***

  Two hours later, I was surveying the kitchen pantry and Brennan was getting ready to leave.

  There wasn’t a whole lot more for Amelia to say. She’d been caught off guard and worried about what ignoring Leonard would mean for her family at a time like this. She’d believed him when he promised he would help her, give her advice.

  “And it just seemed so strange, the way he worded everything,” she’d said, rubbing her temples with the pads of her fingertips. “It was like he was encouraging me to make nice with that family after what they had done to JJ. To me. And what does make nice even mean? He wanted us to give them money?”

  Maybe. And from the look on Brennan’s face, he’d thought the same thing. They didn’t necessarily want whatever spare change Amelia and her family could come up with. They wanted favors they could cash in on when they needed it.

  She let out a long sigh. “I need to call my father and let him know,” she said wearily. I knew it was the last thing she wanted to do, but Jack would want to know. “I just hope it doesn’t add even more to everything. He didn’t look so great this morning.”

  Finn had mentioned something the day before about Jack Sr. moving a little slower, despite the forced smiles he kept on his face for his wife. I hated to think that maybe things were picking up speed with his sickness. Amelia mentioned he had another appointment coming up. No wonder she seemed so tired, even after sleeping a solid eight or nine hours in my bed.

  After she’d padded down the hall to my bedroom with her cell in her hand, Brennan looked at me.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” he said grimly, obviously not liking the turn the entire thing had taken. It was one thing to mess with jobsites, bids, and contracts. Hell, they’d even stooped to arson at this point, but having a prosecutor in their back pocket and waving it around like some shiny new toy? Low, even for the Duffy brothers.

  “Let me know,” I said, seeing him to the door and locking it behind him.

  I’d planned to make dinner that evening, and as I heard talking coming from behind my closed door, I decided to get started a little early so we could relax the rest of the night.

  Amelia, most likely, had eaten gourmet cuisine regularly for the past seven years. And me? I couldn’t cook anything fancy to save my life. But I did make a mean beef stew thanks to my Nana Casey, who packed away at least two of the cans of Guinness from the six-pack she had to buy whenever she made it.

  I’d made sure to add some artisan bread to the grocery list I’d sent my assistant, and sure enough, a glorious round loaf was sitting on top of my counter. Clara deserved a raise.

  The meal was simple, but it was also comforting and heavy. Just what she needed right now when her life was blowing her in twenty-five different directions at once. At one point, I had to run and grab my phone from the living room and heard her in the shower, giving me extra time to get the stew moving along.

  By the time she came out wearing a pair of running shorts and a zip-up hoodie sweatshirt, the whole house smelled fantastic.

  “I can’t wait to eat.” She looked adorable with a towel wrapped around her head. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  I handed her a spoon, and she grinned. With zero hesitation, she lifted the heavy lid from the Dutch oven and grabbed a spoonful before covering it again.

  It was hot, and I watched in painful, erotic fascination as she blew on the steaming spoon. I was imagining a few other things those delectable lips could be doing.

  “Oh my,” she breathed as she tasted the stew. “Seriously, Declan… you made this?”

  She looked around the kitchen, like she was searching for packaging or a delivery bag hidden somewhere.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, giving the underside of her cute butt a pinch as I set her out of the way and tasted the stew for myself. It was just a pinch shy of enough salt, but I’d wait. The first couple of times I made it, I’d overdone the salt, and there wasn’t much you could do once that happened. If nothing else, I was a man who learned from his mistakes.

  “That’s seriously really good,” she said as she wandered toward the living room, the disbelief clear in her voice.

  I was starting to get offended.

  “Why is that so surprising? You don’t think I can cook for myself?”

  S
he smirked at me and cocked her hip out.

  “Not that you can’t so much as you don’t need to.” She waved her hands around, motioning toward the grandeur of the penthouse.

  I grinned. “What does this…” I mimicked her hand motions, “have to do with being able to feed myself?”

  She gave me a sorry face and opened her mouth for what I thought might be an apology.

  I held up a hand. “I’m kidding. I really don’t like cooking most of the time, and you’re right, it’s so much easier to order in.”

  Twenty minutes later, we were eating. An hour after that, the dishes were done, and the kitchen was clean, and I had her head in my lap, playing with her hair as we settled in for the third episode in a row of her favorite British show. A strange concept revolving around paranormal creatures that end up as roommates. I’d given up trying to understand the different dialects and begun to amuse myself by running my fingers through her hair and seeing what sort of sighs and moans I could coax out of her.

  Turns out, my girl was very sensitive.

  And what’s more? The sighs and moans that came from her pretty lips had done a number on me. One that had become apparent with her head on my lap.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Amelia

  The afternoon had been an absolute nightmare — if I was putting it lightly.

  Trevor was a creep. The underlying threat he’d made so obvious in his voice as he smiled at me and tried to reassure me that everything was fine had made me feel vulnerable. Like I wasn’t really strong enough, with my idiot brother, my clueless mother, and my sick father, to handle the shit storm that was brewing on his watch.

  It’d been an ugly feeling, to say the least.

  And then this giant of a man had come crashing through the door like some well-dressed knight in shining armor and had literally put that moron in his place with a well-designed business card belonging to some high-powered lawyer that Trevor obviously recognized. He’d backed off quickly then.

  Another pass of Declan’s strong fingers through my hair pulled any and all thoughts of Trevor from my head and put them squarely where they belonged — on the man who’d called himself my boyfriend. He’d called me his girlfriend before, but that had been to a physician in the privacy of his apartment. This had been different. I’d nearly swallowed my tongue when he said it, and it took every bit of acting skill I possessed not to let my eyes bug out of my head.

  And the feeling it created had been… warm. Before I got too comfortable to revel in it, though, I reminded myself of two things. One, he’d probably just said that to scare off Trevor. And two, as I always had to remind myself, this was temporary. I didn’t have a future working part-time in Boston for very much longer. I had a lot more I wanted to accomplish in other places.

  I closed my eyes and moaned when his fingers started squeezing my scalp, no longer running through my hair, but actually massaging the sensitive skin on my head.

  Realizing how loud I’d just been, I grinned, my face growing hot, wondering if my moan had been as loud to him as it had been to me. Seconds later, when I felt a sudden swell near the back of my head, I realized that not only had he heard me, he appreciated it. Probably not nearly as much as I’d appreciated the amazing beef stew, television date, and head massage I was getting — but, um, still. His appreciation was very clear.

  And my momma always told me I should say thank you nicely to anyone who was kind in return. She probably didn’t mean it the way my libido was meaning it, but…

  His fingers made another pass through my hair, and I pushed myself into a sitting position, ready to show my appreciation. Declan watched as I adjusted until I was on my knees beside him.

  I didn’t hesitate much before leaning forward and grasping his face in my hands, then pressing my mouth to his. There was something about Declan that awoke this gnawing hunger in my stomach — this need to touch and to feel and to taste him. To memorize the way he smelled, to learn how he liked to be touched, to teach him how I liked to be touched.

  His mouth moved against mine, and it wasn’t long before he’d taken control of the kiss, gripping the back of my head and turning me to get a better angle.

  Declan was an amazing kisser, so it wasn’t much of a struggle to let him lead. After a few moments of his gentleness, I wrangled control back from him by straddling him, my knees on both sides of his hips.

  I felt him, his urgency, right at my very center, and despite feeling like I was in control for this one, things got heated really quickly.

  “Fuck, baby,” he breathed against my mouth as my hips ground against him. The jolt of electricity it shot through me had me grasping his shoulders tighter, and I’d gone from half-asleep while getting a head massage to nearly tearing the man’s clothing off in the space of half a minute. That was the magic Declan Casey did to me on a regular basis.

  Needing to feel his skin, I pulled his t-shirt up, and Declan raised his arms to make it easier for me. My hands went everywhere, down the rounded muscles on his shoulders and across the sculpted pecs that teased from beneath the fitted button-down shirts he wore so perfectly.

  His tongue became more aggressive as the magic I was making worked him just as hard. In no time, my sweatshirt and tank top were tossed on the floor behind me, and I found myself in nothing more than a tiny pair of running shorts and a black lace bra.

  Declan tore from my mouth and pressed his lips to the swell on the top of my breast, sucking and nipping just enough to leave a small, red bruise.

  “Did you just give me a hickey?” I laughed as I asked it, astonished that a man like him was capable of such a thing. His throaty chuckle was sexy as hell.

  “Just claiming what’s mine,” he said before moving to the other breast and leaving a similar mark. I should have been pissed at the audacity, but it turned me the hell on. I was wild for him at that point and ground myself even harder against him.

  The pained groan I got from Declan let me know I was torturing him in all the right ways, and when he practically tossed me to the side, so he could get his own sweatpants and boxer briefs off before removing my shorts and panties, I was lost.

  When he pulled a condom from the pocket before tossing them to the side, I grinned. “Prepared much?”

  He grinned and rolled it on. “Prepared always.”

  I figured we’d move to his bedroom or try the floor, but he must have been inspired by the position I started us in because his large hands were back around my waist and lifting me to straddle him. With my knees comfortably adjusted, he positioned himself at my entrance.

  “Ride me, baby.”

  Staring into his eyes, I sank down on him, hissing a sharp breath through my teeth as my body adjusted to not only his size but the position itself. I groaned at the exquisite fullness.

  Fully seated, I held still a moment while I got used to the feeling of him being so deep inside me. Sneaking a glance through my lashes, I noticed that Declan was looking tense too. It was certainly gratifying to see that I was affecting him as much as he was affecting me.

  “Don’t move, Amelia,” he ground through clenched teeth.

  I opened my eyes and blinked at him. “Why?”

  “Because this is a memory I want to burn in my psyche. I want this moment to last me the rest of my life.” His hands skimmed up my thighs, my hips, my belly, not stopping until they were on my breasts. “It’s too perfect. You’re too perfect. I want to feel this forever.”

  The words were intense and heavy, and instead of turning me off, they turned me way the hell on. There was no stopping me once I started moving against him, his strong hands squeezing my ass, helping me to lift and lower, faster and faster.

  His head dipped and took one of my nipples in his mouth, and I nearly flew off the sofa at the sensation of his hot tongue on the tight bud. I must have moaned, because his grip on me tightened and he pushed harder into me, raking a line of friction directly against my sensitive clit.

  It was so much. Too
much. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. The way he looked at me. The way he mumbled my name. The way he smelled. We smelled. Every one of my senses were in overload.

  He nibbled down my neck, his teeth closing over the sensitive arch where the curve met my shoulder. Fingers digging into my ass, he moved me higher, faster, changing the angle until my nerves lit up and pleasure like I’d never known sizzled and burned.

  He bit me, and I gasped, his mouth sliding back up to my jaw, where he sucked on my lower lip, each pull in perfect time to the rhythm of his thrusts.

  Oh… oh… oh!

  I wailed as the orgasm exploded through me, and Declan cursed as my body gripped him harder as I trembled through the assault. His hands worked me up and down, faster and faster, building the friction as my climax went on and on and on.

  I was sobbing, but he continued to move as he chased his own release. His face was a mask of intensity as he claimed me. “Again, baby,” he panted against my mouth. “Come for me again.”

  Again?

  I couldn’t… surely. But as his thrusts grew even more desperate, his thumb on my clit more urgent, I knew I was close and moving closer.

  He leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth… and bit. Hot pain flared, triggering the most erotic pleasure, and my second orgasm claimed me, hitting me like a wave on a rocky shore.

  It hit Declan too, I knew because his face twisted into a beautiful agony, and he roared, driving me down on him harder, working me up and down, the friction more intense, almost too much as the climax went on and on.

  I screamed, unable to stop the release of sound from escaping from my burning lungs. It was too much, yet I knew it would never be enough.

  ***

  “Amelia, honey, we’re in the emergency room.”

  I could hardly comprehend my mother’s words. I’d just finished a lunch shift on a Wednesday afternoon after a crappy start to the week. My father’s work truck, parked safely in the driveway last we’d seen it, had been set on fire sometime in the early hours of Monday morning. A detective from the local precinct had left me a voicemail message yesterday, and now this.