His hands run slowly up my back, cupping me closer until they tangle in my hair. He moans into my mouth, a moan so organic, so earthy. I need to kiss him.
But it’s more than a need to touch him, kiss him, love him. It’s as though my heart has woken up. It’s as though scales have been removed from my eyes, and I can see beyond the filter of pain and hurt. It’s obvious how much he’s always loved me. I clearly see he is the man meant for me. And I’m the woman for him. After the visit with my dad and the love Aaron has for him as well, I know it’s not just about us. We’re already family. The whole time I’ve been back home, he has stood by my side. He’s provided Aaron-shaped pillows to cushion my heartache. He’s watched and relearned things about me rather than assume I’m still the same girl he once dated. And if that isn’t one hell of a neon sign about how true love works, I’m not sure what is.
He asked for a second chance, but I think it should be me asking him for that second chance. He needs to know that.
The grip is so strong yet soft, his mouth urgent yet gentle, and his groans, guttural yet sweet. He’s holding back, and I don’t want him to.
I break our connection and lace our hands, pulling his away from my hair. I look him in the eyes and say, “Take me into your house, Aaron.”
He exhales a long pent-up breath and shakes his head. “I can’t risk—”
“You’re not risking anything.” I press my finger over his full lips. “I want this; I want us.”
“You want us?” he asks, almost sounding timid.
I nod. “I want us, Aaron.”
He shakes his head in disbelief and kisses me softly on the forehead before pulling me toward his house. Thank God. This is all I want right now, this man, me naked under him, his love pouring over me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AARON
This feels like a dream, a dream that’s going to be snatched away if I make one wrong move, if I’m not careful enough, if I jerk too fast and wake myself up.
This was the end goal, to have Amelia believe in us, be in my arms again, but now that it’s actually happening, I fear she’ll second-guess her choice. Am I a rebound or does her heart and soul want a second chance for us?
She left me . . . us . . . last Thursday to be with Trey. I haven’t pressed her for information about why she broke up with him, but it is reasonable to wonder if I’m her convenient friend, lover, wanted for comfort while she tries to figure out her future. I don’t want to be that man; I want to be the man she calls her forever. I want to be the man she kisses goodnight and the man she shares a cup of coffee with in the morning. I want to be the man who holds her hand while walking down the street. I want to be the man who takes her to our bedroom and makes love to her.
But there is no guarantee she wants me as that man. She might want that now, living on a high from her visit with her father, but what about in the morning, when she wakes up, her actions from last night being emotionally charged rather than thought out properly? As we walk into my house, ready to make love, what does she want?
Worry etches my features, and she notices right away.
She presses her hand against my face. “What’s wrong? What happened to that handsome smile of yours?”
I grip the back of my neck, shut my front door, and turn toward her. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Amelia.”
“Aaron, stop overthinking everything. Just feel this, us.” She presses her hand against my chest and my hands itch to pull her closer.
“I want to, baby, I really do, but I can’t help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. Are you only acting on emotion instead of what you really want? I can’t live through another breakup with you; there is no way I’ll survive if you walk away from me. I don’t want to rush anything. I can wait, I have all the time in the world to wait for you, Amelia.”
Her eyes soften and her mouth stretches across her face in a sweet smile. “Aaron, my handsome man, I feel this pull between us. It’s real. It’s not me acting on emotion. It’s me thinking clearly. I want you, I need you, and I’m ready. I’m ready to give us a second chance. I’m ready if you’ll give me a second chance. Stop trying to deny the inevitable.”
I emulate her smile. The inevitable. That used to be such a negative word in my vocabulary, a countdown to disappointment, but with one simple sentence, Amelia changes the meaning and use of that word.
And there was no way in hell I want to deny that inevitable.
Taking a leap, my heart on my sleeve, I link my hand with Amelia’s and take her to my bedroom, not bothering with lights.
I place her in front of me, her legs pressing against my large bed, and slowly start to unbutton my shirt. Her eyes are glued to my fingers, watching every flick of the button, and with each reveal of skin, her breathing gets heavier. With my shirt completely unbuttoned, I leave it open but don’t take it off. I step forward and grab Amelia’s hand. I press it against my chest, letting her palm feel the strength of my pecs, loving the way her touch makes them twitch. Moving along, restricting the time she gets to spend touching that part of me, I move her hand lower to my abs. She bites her bottom lip as she grazes her fingernails along my skin. I want her to feel the new me, to explore the man I am now, not thinking of the man I used to be.
Moving her hand again, I bring it the V in my waist where her fingers run along the edge. Her other hand grabs my side and with an exhale, she glides her hands up my chest, slowly, leisurely, but methodically, memorizing every contour, every ridge.
When she reaches my heart, she circles her finger around, branding me with her touch before she leans forward and presses a kiss above my rapidly beating heart. Numb, unable to move, I completely freeze as she continues to explore my body, pushing my shirt off my arms. When my upper half is bare, she sighs and moves her hands over my pecs again, her fingers grazing my nipples, causing me to hiss through my teeth.
Shit, that feels good. Not just because I haven’t been with a woman in a while, but because it’s Amelia who’s touching me. The woman I never thought I’d see again is touching me, admiring me, loving me with every scrape of her nails.
“Your tattoos don’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to them,” she whispers, tracing the black ink.
“They’re demons,” I answer on a swallow. I got them after I broke up with Amelia. I needed a way to express myself, to let out some of the pain.
“They wrap around your heart.” She looks up at me.
I nod. “Because that’s where my demons live.” I brush her hair over her shoulder and cup her cheek. “You mean everything to me, Amelia. You were the light in my dark life. You found me when I was lost, and when I had to say goodbye, the light vanished and the demons took over. They took up residence in my heart and ate away at me every fucking day.”