CHAPTER TWELVE

Carson

I went upstairs and shut the door. I curled up on the bed. Overhead, I could clearly hear Amelia running around in the attic with the kids. I covered my ears with my hands, trying to blot out the noise, the laughter, the excited squeals.

She’s so good. So sweet. So loving. Oh, God! I love her so much. I hate this.

I closed my eyes tight, wishing I was anywhere but here. Why had I agreed to come here, to put myself through this? Of all the hardships I had faced, seeing Amelia and knowing I couldn’t have her was one of the worst.

Well, now she knows. She’s seen how I am now. She probably pities me.

I let out a shaky breath. I was ashamed of her seeing me debilitated, I told myself. I was glad too, though—or I should be. Now she knew I wasn’t the strong, arrogant, confident guy I had been. I was a broken man; a man who curled up under the table when he heard a loud noise.

“She thinks you’re pathetic, Grant.”

I used the words like a whip, scourging myself with them. Perhaps if I repeated it enough times I would numb myself to the pain of it, make myself hardened against it.

I was not going to think about that kiss. The way her body melted to me. The way her plump, moist lips parted, letting me slide in. The taste of her—peaches and sugar. I wouldn’t let myself think about how delicious and wonderful she was. My body was already aroused and I groaned, feeling my loins twitch with need.

Amelia Carlyle, you torture me.

She had always been like that; those teasing blue eyes, high, full breasts; playful expression. She always made me want her so much it was stupid. I would have crawled through the coals to get to that sweetness, to feel her on my body. But that didn’t matter now. I couldn’t have her. I couldn’t inflict her with myself.

“I won’t do it.”

The temptation was so strong, though. I couldn’t deny it. I needed her. I needed her so much it hurt.

How can I even think this, when I can’t even bear to let her see me?

I sighed. I was embarrassed about her having seen me in that state—I couldn’t help it. If I was thinking straight, what I would do was go and apologize. As soon as they were finished in the attic, that was what I would do. I sat up. My head hurt. The mirror showed me a man with eyes swollen from tears, my face a mess.

“Well, I can’t go up there looking like this.”

I went through to the bathroom opposite my room and took a long hot shower. When I got out, some of the swelling in my face and eyes had gone down a bit. Good.

I heard the front door open, and my best friend Brett’s voice.

“Hey, everyone! We’re back! Where are you?”

Amelia’s voice replied from the landing. “We’re in my room. Making decorations for the tree!”

“Yes! I’m making stars, Daddy!”

“I’m making a elephant!”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling. Josh had a great imagination. I shrugged on a good shirt and looked out of the window, noticing it was already dark outside. I guessed it to be about 5:00 p.m.

“Carson?” Brett called. “Where are you? We were just about to get the fire going. Want to help?”

“Sure,” I called, feeling nervous. I straightened my back and marched down the stairs, glad that Amelia was still in her room. I still felt awkward and didn’t want to catch her eye. I still needed to apologize. I still wanted her.

As I thought about her, I felt my groin lurch and I bit my lip, straining against the feeling.

“Coming, Brett,” I called. My voice strained and I coughed. “Let’s make a competition. I bet my fire will burn slower.”

“You bastard,” Brett said affectionately. “You’re on.”

We chuckled. I went into the sitting room to bank up the fire. It was something I was good at. I knew mine would outlast Brett’s, which was the only reason I bet it. He came in to watch me.

“We thought of having fish tonight. That work for you?”

“Sure,” I grunted, settling a last log in place and sitting back to survey my handiwork. “That looks right, yeah?”

Brett shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

I slitted my eyes at him and chuckled. “You just want to win, bro.”

“I always want to win,” Brett said lightly. “Seldom happens, though.”

We both laughed and he led me through to the kitchen for a beer.

I didn’t get a chance to see Amelia on her own after that. First, Brett and Reese drew me into a long conversation about bungalows, and then, when Amelia came down, the kids trooping behind her, it was almost time for dinner.

It was after we’d finished eating that she yawned and said she’d need to go upstairs to finalize some report or other. I waited until she’d gone and then excused myself.

“Sorry, guys. I just remembered I had to make a call. Excuse me.”

“Sure,” Reese said, looking sleepy. She was sitting with Josh on her knee, Cayley making a puzzle on the floor behind us. Brett was on his laptop again.

I went upstairs feeling my hands suddenly sweat with nervousness. I wasn’t going to make a call, of course. I was going to speak to Amelia. To say sorry.

I reached the landing and headed left, to where her bedroom was. Listened for a while. I could hear no sounds coming out and so, my breath tight in my chest, I knocked on the door.

“Hello?” she called through the wood. “Come in.”

I opened the door. She was sitting on her bed in her nightgown. It clung to her sweet curves and my loins caught fire.

“Uh, Amelia,” I said, my voice tight. “I…I’m sorry. I just wanted to say…to tell you…” I dried up. My mind was blank, heart thumping. I didn’t know what to say.

“Come in,” she said gently.

I did so, trembling. I shut the door behind me. I didn’t want to share this with everyone. I also didn’t want to move from where I was, for fear of what my rising need would make me do. I leaned on the door and faced her, groin aching.

“Amelia,” I said softly. “I wanted to say sorry. And to thank you for being so nice. So understanding.” My voice caught and I cleared my throat. I found myself looking into her eyes.

She blinked, and those big blue eyes misted up. “Oh, Carson,” she said softly. “You don’t need to say sorry. Not for anything.”

I walked forward as she stood up. Her arms came around me and her lips moved to mine. I gasped and held her and my tongue slid into her sweet lips and my fingers felt her soft hair. It was as if we had never been apart. We were young and we were lovers and all that mattered was that we wanted each other.

My hands traced her back and she moved back and looked into my eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

I kissed her again, hungrily this time. Her moist pink lips parted and allowed my tongue to thrust in. I tensed and felt her sigh against me. My body pulsed with want. “Amelia,” I said, blinded with longing, as we drew apart.

“Carson.”

She looked very much as I felt. Her lips were sweetly parted, her eyes dazed. Her pupils were big and wide and her cheeks burned. I could feel a corresponding urgency rising in me. I looked at her body, dressed with casual elegance in the satin-soft shift. Her curves were sweet—high, firm breasts and a narrow waist. Her cleavage just showing at the neck of the gown. It was white, and the color suited her. “You’re stunning.” I breathed.

She blushed.

I knew what her body looked like. I knew the pale skin, the softness of it, the wide nipples, the way it felt to be inside her. Somehow my body remembered those pleasure though a decade had gone past. I gripped her in my arms, fingers hot and eager as I slid them under the sweater, stroking her back. She moaned so sweetly that I had to grit my teeth as my loins tensed. I breathed in her scent, struggling for calm. My fingers slid lower and then around, my hands cupping her breasts through the lacy bra. I unfastened it and slid my hands beneath the chest band, wincing with tingling desire as I felt her nipples hard in my hands.

She was gasping and I could see she wanted it almost as much as I did. The fact astonished me. My body didn’t stop to think about it, though, and neither did I.

I leaned hungrily against her, my mouth exploring that sweet pink moistness once again as I stroked her hair and whispered in her ear how much I needed her.

She nodded and pressed her body against mine. “Yes, Carson,” she murmured. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” I thought I might die of longing as we moved, quick as we could muster, over to the bed.