by Emma Tharp
Amelia blinks a few times, her long lashes bat up and down, highlighting her eyes, which have an amber hue today. That’s all it takes to make me hard. My palms itch to touch her.
“Thank you,” she says. “Are you coming in?”
“No. Get a coat on and come outside.”
Her eyebrows bunch together, but I don’t give it away. I know she’s going to love it. She always enjoys going for rides. She goes back inside and I wait for her on her porch, excited like a school boy going on a first date.
It’s a red lightweight jacket and perfect to keep her cozy. “I’m ready. Where’s your car?”
“No car today.” Grabbing her hand, I lead her to my Harley.
The second her eyes see it, she lets out a little squeal. “We’re going for a ride?”
“If you want to.”
“Yes, I want to.” She skips over, grabs her helmet from the back seat, and secures it on her head like an old pro.
Selfishly, I wanted to take her out for a ride to see the smile on her face, as I don’t get to see it very often anymore. And I can’t wait to have her tiny hands around my waist. It’ll be a bonus if she lays her head on my back. I told her I wouldn’t touch her, but she’s allowed to touch me. If she holds me, maybe it’ll help bring us back to where we were, when things were easier between us. It’s what I want more than anything.
Swinging my leg up and onto the bike, I put my helmet on and shift my weight to keep the balance as she gets on behind me. When her arms wrap around me and her breasts press into me, it takes all of my restraint to keep looking forward and not turn to her, rip off her helmet, and kiss her.
Turning the ignition on, the engine roars to life. There’s no better sound. Well, there’s really no comparison to the noise Amelia makes when she comes apart underneath me, but I’ve got to get my damn head out of the gutter. Doing my best to focus on the road, we weave in and out of traffic, wind whipping past us. Charlottesville has a quaint feel with a mix of restored and renovated buildings. I never take for granted where I grew up. It’s a great area for fishing and hiking but also rich in history, along with its many wineries and craft breweries, so there’s always something to do here. When we make it to the outskirts of town, toward the rolling hills, I know just the spot I’m taking her. There’s a small pond at the end of a dirt road where teenagers come to make out. I’ve never brought anyone here, and I doubt she’ll believe me when I tell her she’s my first, but she is. This time of year, it’ll be quiet and deserted, even though the temperatures are unseasonably warm today.
When I kill the engine and take off my helmet, she looks around, confusion in her features.
“Where are we?” she asks.
Raising my brows at her, I say, “Lovers Lane.”
“Oh, I see. Where you bring all of your conquests.” She takes off her helmet and gives me a playful smirk.
“Never. You’re my first. Thought it’d be a nice spot for a little picnic.” Opening the saddlebag, I grab the subs and the small blanket I brought with us. Setting it out on a nice spot near the bank, I sit down, crossing my legs in front of me. “Have a seat. I got you your favorite sub.”
Her eyes are wide and her mouth is slack. “We’re having a picnic?”
“Yeah. You okay with that?”
“Sure.” She takes her seat next to mine and looks into the bag. “You went to Grants?”
“I said I got your favorite.”
She’s giddy. And not just about the subs. She has been since the first moment I laid eyes on her today. She’s smiled more, the sparkle is back in her eyes. She’s at ease for the first time since the miscarriage.
“Thank you. I’m starving.” She unwraps her food and takes a big bite. When she tilts her head back and moans, my dick twitches in my pants.
“If I knew the sub would make you moan like that, I would’ve bought you one weeks ago.”
Covering her face, she laughs. “It’s really good and I haven’t had one in so long.”
“You seem really good today. I like it,” I say.
She sets her sub down on the wrapper and looks up at me through her lashes. “I feel better. I had a great appointment with a counselor. I think she’s going to help me.”
Thank sweet baby Jesus. “That’s great.”
She gives me a shy little smile, picks up her ham and cheese, and takes another bite.
“It was nice talking to someone with an unbiased opinion. I could breathe easier after I left her office,” she says.
“You’re going to go back and see her again?”
“Definitely. Don’t get me wrong. You’ve been great and Dora has been doing her best to help me out as well.”
There’s no way for me to hide my distaste for her friend Dora. I’m sure she’s a good friend to Amelia, but since she stopped me from visiting Amelia in the hospital, she’s left a bad taste in my mouth.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Amelia asks.
See, I can’t hide my emotions. “I’m sorry. It’s just Dora. Why doesn’t she like me?”
Amelia scratches her head. “Why wouldn’t she like you? She’s never even met you.”
“Yes, she has. The night of your miscarriage. I stopped by the hospital after work. You were asleep and she wouldn’t let me hang out and wait for you to wake up.” I sound like a pansy even saying this, but it’s true. Dora was acting like Amelia’s bodyguard.
“What?” Her manicured brows peak up toward her forehead. “She never mentioned that.”
That woman definitely doesn’t like me. “Oh, really? What about the flowers? I asked her to give them to you.”
Amelia’s mouth forms a perfect “O” and it’s distracting me from being pissed off at her friend. In fact, it’s making me think dirty thoughts about what I’d like to be doing with that mouth. Damn, I need to focus. I take a bite of my sub and chew on it, taking my aggression out on it.
“You brought me flowers?” Her voice breaks and her eyes and lips turn down.
“I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.” I’m pissed. What did Dora have to gain by keeping my visit a secret? This information could’ve changed things. First of all, Amelia gets gushy when I buy her flowers and second, if she knew that I had come, there’s a chance she would’ve warmed up to me sooner.
Rubbing her forehead, she looks at me completely baffled. “I don’t know. The only reason I can think of is that she thought she was doing me a favor because I asked you not to come, but after you did show up, she should’ve told me. “
“Well, I did come to see you. I wanted to be there for you from the second I heard the news. When you told me not to, I thought about respecting your wishes, but I needed to see you, wanted to hold you.” The sparkle in her eyes makes me want to go to her and put my arms around her. But there’s still a barrier between us that holds me in place.
“Oh, Jackson. I’m sorry I didn’t know about your visit and the flowers. I would’ve called and thanked you.”
“No. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. Dora should’ve let me stay that night, but since she didn’t, I asked her to tell you that I stopped by and to get in touch if you needed anything. If she were a good friend to you, she would have relayed the message. None of this is your fault.”
Her shoulders relax a little. “Okay, let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. What about your brother? Have you seen him?”
“No, I’ve been a bit of a mess. Thought it’d be best to avoid him.”
“Damn. He’s been trying to get together for a beer for a couple of weeks now and I’ve been putting him off and avoiding him. He’s going to be suspicious if I don’t call him soon.”
“You’re going to the bachelor party in Mexico, right? That’s next weekend. You won’t be able to avoid him then.” She tilts her head to the side, exposing part of the soft skin of her neck. She goes wild when I run my tongue over that spot. What I wouldn’t do to kiss her there right now.
H
ead in the game, Jackson. “Yeah. I’m going. I’m kind of dreading it. We’ve got a huge project going on at work and I’m not in the mood to be blitzed for three days straight. He’s going to expect that.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a good time. Some forced downtime by the ocean in the sun with tequila flowing.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t know. I have to go, I’m the best man. I’ll make the best of it.”
Finishing the last bite of her sub, she crinkles up the wrapper and throws it at me, giggling. “I have faith in you.”
“Did you just throw this at me?” Taking the paper, I throw it right back at her. She ducks out of the way at the last second and we both laugh. Hearing the sweet sound tugs at my heart. I want to tackle her to the ground and tickle her, but I won’t break my promise. If she wants me to touch her, she’s going to have to instigate it. Staring into her hazel eyes, her smile wavers; she’s struggling with conflict.
She clears her throat and says, “Are you ready? I’d like to head back now.”
“Sure.” I stand up, grab the wrappers, and return them to the bag on my bike.
We put our helmets on and barely look at each other. Getting on the bike, I hold it steady for her to get on. This time, she puts her hands so tentatively around my waist, it’s almost as if they aren’t even there. As we ease off the dirt road, I hit the accelerator and my bike jerks forward. It gets the desired result. Her arms squeeze around me. I grin to myself. I’ll use any tools I can to get what I want.
The ride goes by entirely too quick. Pulling into her driveway, I turn off the engine and reluctantly take off my helmet. I don’t want tonight to be over. It’s gone by too fast and I haven’t seen enough of that smile. “Let me walk you to your door.”
Amelia pulls off her helmet and shakes out her long dark hair. She hands it to me and I set it down. “Thank you for the sub and the ride.”
“Thank you for coming.” It’s as if we’re reduced to pleasantries now.
We make our way to her front door. She riffles through her purse and pulls out her key, but before she puts it in the lock, she turns to me and says, “It’s early. I’ve got a bottle of wine in the kitchen. Would you like to come in for a glass?”
“That would be great.” This is exactly what the doctor ordered. This promise I made to keep my hands off is going to be tricky.
The ends of her mouth tug up into a shy grin. “Great.”
I stare at her perfect ass as she leads me through her door. How in the fuck am I going to be good tonight?
8
Amelia
What in the world am I thinking? Nothing good can come from me inviting him in to my house. It’s too soon. Yet here I am, opening a bottle of wine for him and I to share.
I miss him.
There, I said it. And today after hearing about how Dora kept it from me that Jackson came by the hospital to see me, my head is a mess. All I could think about when I was there was that he was heartless and didn’t care. But he did.
My appointment with the counselor this week did help. I’m starting to see things clearer. And Jackson is here now and he’s trying. What more could I ask for? I do wish he’d touch me. At first it was best that he didn’t, but now I crave it. This isn’t easy for him. I can see it in his eyes and his actions. It’s hard for him to hold back and I admire him for being strong for both of us. Now I’m ready to feel him again. Maybe after a drink, I’ll be brave enough to tell him.
Handing him a glass of red wine, I lead him to my living room. It’s hard to know how to act with him here. Looking at the chair in the corner, I remember the last time we were here, we made love on it. My neck and cheeks heat up.
“Everything okay?” Jackson asks, getting comfortable on my couch.
I sit next to him, but make sure to leave some breathing room in between us. “Yes. I’m good. How about you?”
Turning his body, he faces me. “I’m great. Thanks for inviting me in. I’ve missed you and when I was driving you home, I wasn’t ready for the night to be over.”
Where has this side of Jackson been? He’s open, expressive, and damn sexy. His eyes scan my lips and there’s hunger and desire there. I push the sleeves up on my shirt and sweep my hair behind me, attempting to cool off. “I thought it’d be nice to spend more time together too.”
“It makes me happy.” He takes a sip of his wine and I can’t stop looking at his full lips. That’s when I see it. Some kind of dark colored fuzz on his cheek. Must be from the winter hat he wore on our ride.
Leaning in toward him, I reach for the fluff. He startles and turns his head toward my hand and runs his nose into my finger. It’s pretty hard because he immediately grasps his nose and says, “Ouch.”
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I angle myself closer to him, checking his face.
“I’ll be fine.” Jackson pulls his hand away and checks it tentatively. “No blood.”
“Wow. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was trying to get this off your cheek.” Grabbing the fuzz, I show it to him. His face is warm with just the right amount of stubble. “It was on your cheek. I was just trying to help.” I put my hands up in defense.
“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting you to touch me.”
“Do you mind?” My voice comes out in just above a whisper.
Shaking his head, he says, “No. Not at all. I love when you touch me, Amelia. You can put your hands on me anytime you want, day or night. When I told you I wouldn’t touch you, it’s because I need you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. It wasn’t about being physical, I want to be your shoulder emotionally too.”
“Oh,” is all I can seem to say. The desire to take off his shirt and feel the smooth skin of his chest overwhelms me. I tuck my hands under my lap.
“If I’m being honest, I miss the hell out of touching you. My fingers miss the curves and heat of your body, your sweet smell, there’s nothing like it anywhere. I miss that too.” He shifts himself closer to me, his knee grazes mine, all of my nerve endings come to life in that small space. “What about you? Do you miss touching me, Amelia?”
It’s as if I swallowed a handful of cotton, my mouth is too dry. I take a sip of my wine and say, “Y…Yes.”
“You can touch me, if you want to,” he rasps out, moving closer. “Do you want that?”
Suddenly reduced to a schoolgirl, my heart rate picks up and my hands start to sweat. I nod at him and wipe my palms on my pants. Reaching up to his chest, I place my fingers over his heart, feeling it beat in time with mine.
“Do you want me to take my shirt off?” he asks.
Hell yes! But am I ready? My body and mind are telling me it’s time, but my heart isn’t quite sure yet. “Please.”
“Please, what?” Jackson’s eyes are wide. He knows what he’s doing. He’s making me ask for everything I want.
“Take your shirt off.” My voice cracks like a pubescent boy.
Lifting the hem of his white t-shirt, he takes his time tugging it over his head, gaze never leaving mine. Nothing has changed, his pecs and abs are perfectly sculpted. He’s gorgeous. Taking a tentative hand, I trace a line from his stomach up over his chest around his shoulder, resting my open hand there. His skin is like warm silk to my touch. I don’t think I take a breath. His eyes close and he tilts his head back. I want him to take the lead and kiss me now, but I know he won’t. It’s all about me and what I want tonight.
One touch is all it takes. I need more. “Can I kiss you?” Why did I just ask him that? When have I ever asked anyone permission for anything?
His eyes are half lidded as he leans in and nods. Easing my face closer to him, his breath is warm and smells of red wine. I graze my lips gently against his, light as a feather, and it’s as if a tug pulls at my heart, the connection between us visceral and strong. My hands, unsure of their next course of action, make their way to his hair, running the strands through my fingers and pulling him closer to me. My mouth opens to him and our
tongues take no time getting reacquainted. The pressure and intensity increase by the second. Running my hands down his stomach grants me a low moan from his lips. I press my body against his and know it’s not enough. Pulling back, I yank my shirt off and reach back to unlatch my bra. His eyes smolder as they take me in. My heart thunders in my chest and warmth pools between my legs.
“Will you please touch me now?” My voice is small and pleading.
In a beat his hands move to my waist and up my ribs, gentle and bold at the same time. I shiver in anticipation of his skilled hands and mouth on me. His fingertips sweep up between my breasts and over my collarbone.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jackson says seconds before his warm mouth sucks my nipple to a hard point. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer to him. I move onto his lap and sparks ignite when his arousal presses against me. Riding up and down him creates delicious friction that starts to ease the tension that’s been building since he got here.
Jackson’s mouth kisses my shoulder and lazily drags up to my jaw while his hands guide my hips up and down his length. Every last ounce of my attention is laser-focused on the sound of our labored breathing and the sensations dancing all over my body.
Placing my hands on his shoulders, they shake under my touch. Staring into his eyes, there’s more here now than there used to be. There’s a depth, a connection between us that was lacking before. What’s missing now is the physical joining of our bodies. I want him inside me, to see the look on his beautiful face the moment he enters me. I shiver even thinking about how good it’d feel to have his thick length thrust in and out of my slick entrance. But am I ready?
“Can I feel you?” He takes his hand and eases it down my pants.
“Wait!” Pulling away, I draw in a shaking breath. “I’m sorry. Too much too soon. Maybe I shouldn’t have.” I can’t go any further, even if I wanted to. My body isn’t ready yet, it needs more time. Embarrassment washes over me like a stinging, heavy wave ready to knock me over.
