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“I want you,” I answer honestly. “So if that means we need to talk instead of fuck, I guess I can be flexible.”
She arches a brow at me but doesn’t say anything for a while. The silence makes me uncomfortable, but finally, she simply says, “Okay.”
I press my lips to hers, savoring just the feel of her mouth on mine as relief rushes through me. There’s no tongue, just the soft caress of our lips, and it’s just as addicting as when we’re devouring one another.
When we part, I rest my forehead on hers and release her face, gripping her waist instead. My dick is rock hard, but after telling her that we need to slow things down, I probably shouldn’t let my dick run the rest of this meeting. “I have one more question for you.”
“Yes?”
“Do you mind if I take a picture of your gnomes?”
She rears back with a smile on her lips. “What?”
“It’s for Oliver. He kept asking me all damn weekend if the darn things moved, and I told him I forgot to look, so I promised I would take a picture of them today for evidence.”
Amelia’s smile lights up the entire room. “That is the sweetest thing. And you know what? Let’s move them, so it looks like it actually happened!”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No. It will be fun!” She takes my hand in hers and leads me to my office door.
“Seriously, Amelia, you don’t know what you’re starting. I thought the same thing about that damn Elf on the Shelf, and now the entire month of December is pure fucking torture.”
She releases my hand once we make our way out to the main part of my office, where Yvonne is eating her lunch, pausing in nervousness as we walk past her. And once we’re outside, I follow the sight of Amelia’s ass and hips swinging from side to side as she marches over to the flower bed outside of her office and crouches down to adjust the gnomes.
“Seriously, you don’t have to do this.”
She sets them in a different spot, somewhere clearly different from where they were before. “It’s no problem. I think this is adorable. Oliver will love this.”
My heart constricts a bit as I watch this woman who barely knows my kid go above and beyond to make him happy and believe in magic. I can’t think about a time when Monica put that much thought into her own child. But Amelia is doing it without a second thought, and that’s the kind of shit that tells me to watch how close we become. It’s actions like these that had me putting up the walls I built three years ago and vowing never to take them down.
“There.” She stands tall again, brushing the dust off her hands. “Get out your phone.”
She points down to the gnomes with a shocked expression on her face, her mouth in the perfect little O. And even though I know she’s being dramatic for the picture, all it’s making me think about is how her mouth looks like that with my cock deep inside of it.
Jesus, Ethan, you have problems.
“Thank you, Amelia.” I snap the picture and then place my phone back in my pocket and shove my hands in as well, not sure what to do with them. We’re out in the open, so I can’t really touch her. But after what she just did, I desperately want to.
“Please let me know how he reacts, okay?”
“I will. And lunch tomorrow?”
“Yes. Have a good day, Ethan.” She turns and unlocks her office door, stepping inside with a small wave, leaving me standing out in the blinding sun lusting after her. And that’s when I should have known right there that I was in trouble when it came to Amelia St. Clair.
* * *
“So what do you do when you’re not trying to repair every broken marriage in Los Angeles?” I stare across Amelia’s desk at her as she takes a bite of her chow mein. We decided on Chinese for lunch since there’s a small shop across the street that a bunch of the other business owners in the complex rave about.
She pauses mid-chew. “I think for the sake of our arrangement, perhaps we shouldn’t discuss work.”
The woman might actually be on to something. “Not a bad idea, actually. But still, answer the question.”
I know that getting to know each other better was her idea, but I have to admit, I’m having a little too much fun with this. I have permission to dig for information on this woman now, and I’m taking full advantage.
“Well, I have a group of girlfriends that I do pretty much everything with. We have brunch almost every Sunday together at Frankie’s Diner. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes, but I haven’t been yet.”
“You should go. Take Oliver, he’ll love it. They have amazing waffles with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.”
“Sounds like something he’d be into.” And there she goes again, thinking about my kid. “So what else?”
“Honestly, I like to get outside. Walking, hiking, going to the beach. Being stuck inside all day can make me go a little crazy. Oh, and I take pole dancing classes.”
I nearly choke on a noodle. “Excuse me? What was that last one?”
She fights her grin but fails. “Pole dancing. You know? Like what a stripper does? Only I do it for the physical benefits, not to support myself financially.”
“Fuck, Amelia. Why do you have to say shit like that?” I reach down and adjust my dick in my slacks.
She giggles as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You asked. So what about you?”
“I hang out with Oliver, primarily. We cook dinner together, play outside and practice soccer since he just started playing, and I love watching football. Pre-season has already started, but I’m a diehard Dallas fan, so I’m hoping we can make the playoffs this year.”
“Football and Oliver, got it. No other friends you hang out with?”
“Besides your brother? Not really. Remember, I just moved back here from San Diego.”
She moves her food around with her fork, avoiding my eyes. “And what about Oliver’s mom?” Her eyes flick up to mine, waiting for my response.
The last thing I want to do is discuss Monica with her. I don’t owe her those details, and it’s not something I like discussing anyway. But I decide to at least appease her curiosity. “She’s not in the picture.”
Her face falls. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s her loss.” I clear my throat, moving my own food around with my fork now.
See? This is why I don’t bother getting to know women. I like to get in, get what I need, and get out, even though it’s been months since I’ve done that before Amelia came along.
But the pity, the sadness in her eyes as she looks at me, is something I can’t fucking stand.
“You sure orgasms aren’t on the menu today?” I ask, trying to defuse the situation.
She rolls her eyes. “Men. And no, Ethan. You suggested lunch, so that’s what we’re having—lunch.”
“Yeah, but you have a cookie that I’m dying to eat too.”
“Did you just compare my vagina to a cookie?” She holds up one of the fortune cookies in the air.
“I did. And yours has the best fortune of them all—an orgasm. It’s guaranteed to be true every time.”
“Not every time,” she mutters.
“It is if I’m down there.”
