CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Carson
It isn’t often that I wake up beside the girl of my dreams. I dragged myself from Amelia’s bed with a heart that floated in heaven.
When I reached my own bedroom, my mood abruptly plummeted. I sighed. What had I been thinking? Had I been thinking? What had I done?
I sat down on my own bed and covered my face with my hands.
Carson Grant, you are stupid.
I rolled onto my side, feeling completely wretched. I had let my longing rule me. I was always scathing about other people thinking with the head of their cock, not their own head. Now I’d done it. I groaned.
It wasn’t just longing. A small voice in my head reminded me reasonably that Amelia wasn’t just about physical arousal. It was everything about her. My heart wanted her as much as my mind, as much as my body.
When she came in and found me on the floor, my heart had opened to her and we had built a new trust between us. That closeness had led to now. To us spending the night together. I sighed.
I did want her. I don’t regret it. Not at all.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself the indulgence of reliving the memories. Pushing myself inside her hot, tight well. Riding her slowly, then fast. The way she sighed under me. I groaned.
The memories that followed were more gentle and more moving—her snuggled close, her head on my shoulder. The way her skin smelled, the feel of her, warm in my arms. Her hand on my chest. I sat up, not wanting to let my mind go there.
No, Carson.
I had made things worse for myself, I realized that painfully. I had allowed myself to remember the paradise of her bed. And now I had to move away.
I will hurt her.
I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let myself get close to her, settle down, wreak all the destruction that hid inside me, on her. She deserved better.
But what could I do? I had sent her a clear message: a true message. I love you.
I didn’t know how to send the equally-clear, equally-true message: I cannot commit to you.
I was in no state, I thought ruefully, to actually commit to a job. Never mind a person. It scared me. If an accident happened at work, or someone cheeked me, I would probably lose it with them, too, get myself fired. And there was no way my sweetheart should face something I wouldn’t do to a boss.
I looked out onto the dark garden, the leaves rustling in a fitful breeze. The restlessness suited my mood and I had to remind myself how cold it was out there, fight the temptation to go out and walk, and walk…
That’s not a good idea. I need to think of a plan. If I could fix the problem, maybe I could forgive myself.
But what could I do about this? I’d really landed myself in the deep end: I could hardly just act like nothing happened, could I?
How am I supposed to keep a distance?
I had moved things on to another level and now I wanted them to go back to yesterday. Which was impossible.
I went back to the bed and slid into it, trying to separate my mind from the thought of her lying next door. My mind went off fantasizing again. I recalled the taut breasts, the pale thighs, the indescribably good feeling of being inside.
As my cock hardened and I gritted my teeth, knowing that, if I thought about her much more I would actually climax here and now, I came up with a plan.
I needed Amelia to see what Brett had seen. She knew something about my vulnerability. Now she needed to see my cruelty. My brokenness.
I would show it to her. If I did nothing else, I would manage to get it right: I would manage to make her hate me.
It was a bitter thought and it did not help me rest. But I must have eventually done so because I woke the next morning to soft daylight and the kettle, boiling downstairs.