No accusation for the nights I’ve not come to bed.
Just Amelia.
Looking at me like she sees every crack I’ve tried to hide and has decided not to be frightened by a single one.
She rises onto her toes and kisses me gently
So gentle I feel it somewhere deeper than my mouth.
My hands go to her waist.
I don’t pull.
I don’t take.
I only hold her because I need somewhere safe to put my hands. Her breasts press against my chest as she kisses my jaw.
With each press of her lips and caress of her hands, I hear her.
I’m here.
I know.
Let me help you.
When she slowly lowers herself before me, my breath stops.
Seeing Amelia on her knees for me undoes something I didn’t know was locked inside my chest.
This woman.
My woman.
The one who should be asleep in my bed, safe and warm, not down here beneath the spray of a shower trying to piece me back together with nothing but soft hands and silent devotion.
My body reacts to her the way it always does.
Instantly.
Completely.
There’s no part of me that knows how to remain unaffected by Amelia Moore. Not when she looks at me. Not when she touches me. Not when she stands too close and smells like home.
I’m hard for her before she ever reaches me.
I always am.
It’s almost cruel, the power she has over me without even trying.
One hand slides into her wet hair, not to guide her…simply to touch.
To anchor myself.
To make sure this is real and not some mercy my exhausted mind has created because I needed her too badly.
Her eyes stay on mine as she grips my cock and guides me into her mouth.
Instantly, I’m surrounded by her warmth, and despite my raging hardon, I feel more relaxed than I have in years.
