Her eyes grow soft, and her hand wraps around my neck, keeping me in place. She presses her lips to mine, and we once again are lost in each other.
It doesn’t bother me that she didn’t say she loves me back. I’m glad she’s not running away, that right now, she’s in my arms. I’m one grateful mother fucker. My girl is back, the bright light in my life—the woman I want to worship in every way possible—is home.
Once again, Amelia is mine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
AMELIA
“Oh God, yes, harder,” I scream as Aaron drives his hips into mine. Sweat coats his forehead, his eyes closed, his teeth gnawing at my lower lip. “More.”
I dig my fingers into his shoulders while the cold of the kitchen counter on my bottom adds to the pleasure that’s rocketing through me.
“Your pussy’s so damn tight . . . fuck,” Aaron mutters as he pulls me in harder, his cock sliding in out of me at a rapid rate, and in the matter of seconds, I’m coming in the middle of Aaron’s kitchen.
Aaron groans against my ear, his body stilling as his orgasm hits him moments after mine.
Still throbbing, still floating down from the high Aaron sent me on, I rest my forehead against his shoulder and take deep breaths.
I don’t even know how many times he’s made me come. I’ve lost count. But in the matter of twelve hours we’ve had sex in his bed, against his bedroom wall, in the shower, against the shower wall, on the bathroom counter, me over the couch, and now in the kitchen.
I want him again. Amazingly, with each itch he scratches, I only want more.
“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers right before kissing the side of my head, his lips lingering on my skin.
He says those three little words whenever he gets the chance, but he doesn’t just say them to say them. It’s not hard to see how genuine he is when he confesses his love to me, how serious he is about being with me again.
And deep down, I share the same love. I know it’s there. I’m thinking it never left. But I’m cautious with saying those three little words, even though I can feel them bubbling closer and closer with each passing moment I spend with Aaron.
But the last time I said those three little words, I said them to Trey, a man who still crosses my mind, allowing my barely bandaged heart to pinch. I don’t know if I’m ready to say them to another man yet.
Once Aaron cleans up and helps me put his sweatpants back on me—it’s chilly after all—he pulls me from the counter into his bare chest. Encased by him, I glide my hands up his back and enjoy every ripple of his muscles against my palms.
“If it was a work day, I’m pretty sure we’d be screwed. There is no way I would be able to leave you right now.” His chest rumbles against my cheek, his laughter soft.
“I would have to call in sick for sure. Everyone would be asking me why I was walking weird.”
“Are you sore?” he asks, pulling me away to gauge my reaction.
I run a finger over the scruff on his cheek, the same scruff that burned me in the best way possible early in the morning when his head was buried between my thighs. “I am sore, but that’s not going to stop me.”
He winces. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have been more careful.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m not sorry about it, that’s for sure.” I press a kiss against his chest.
He’s so different but the same. It’s strange. Aaron was twenty-five when we met. He was sweet, caring, sexy, and only wanted to make me happy. Now at thirty, he’s the same man, but with an extra coat of testosterone. And muscles. Sex with Aaron has always been amazing, but last night, this morning, I can’t even describe it. I don’t know if he’s ravenous to have me back in his life, or if over the years he’s morphed into someone else in the bedroom, but whatever it is, it’s addicting. I can’t stop myself from touching him, kissing him, making him hum with need.
The way he growls when kissing my neck, or the way his powerful body shifts when I stroke his cock, or the way he drives into me with such force, such abandon, it’s all new, and it’s all I want.
Aaron rubs my back and stares at me, a bit of awe in his eyes. “Is this for real?” he asks. “Are you really in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, kissing me, loving on me?”
“It is and I am.” I smile, unable to hide the joy I feel.
Shaking his head he lets out a long pent-up breath. “Honestly, I never thought I would be able to hold you again, and now you’re here, After last night I could die a happy man.”
“Can I ask you something?” I lower my hands to his hips where I grip him, playing with the elastic of his sweats.
“Ask away.”
“If you talked to me instead of pushing me away, do you think there would have been a way we could have worked everything out, to have the best of both worlds?”
Sighing, he lifts me on the counter so he can look me better in the eyes. He spreads my legs and steps into my space, warming me from the cold counter.
“I’ve thought about it a lot. What if I had taken the chance and tried to make things work?” He shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t think I was mature enough to make it work. I was still very much attached to making my mom happy even though she didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t in a good position in my career, or my life for that matter. The best thing I had going for me was you, and I didn’t want to be the one who held you back. I needed to make changes. Grow.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “I was the one who always seemed to screw up something in our relationship. I was always apologizing. I saw myself as a roadblock to your drive to earn an education. I didn’t want to be the jealous boyfriend who wondered what you were doing every night while away from me. I think in the end, I would have fucked something up, ending us no matter what. I wasn’t the man capable of walking beside you. Not then.”
This man, this sweet, caring man. Does he not understand his worth in this relationship? Does he not get how much he contributes to my happiness?
“This isn’t a one-way street, Aaron. You’re not the only one who gets something out of this relationship. You have a way of making me feel cherished, special, understood and I think that’s rare.”
“I’m sorry.” He lets out a long breath. “I’m not very good at seeing my worth, never have been. I’ve always felt second best my whole life, never good enough.” He runs a hand over his face and laughs sardonically. “Shit, talk about mom issues.”
“Hey.” I still him. “You’re important to me, and I see the worth in you.” I kiss the space above his heart. “Don’t let how your mom treats you determine the incredible man you are.”
His strong hands pull me into his chest, and he hugs me hard, his lips pressing against my head. “I love you, Amelia. So damn much.”
We stay there, in his kitchen wrapped around each other for longer than expected, just enjoying the feel of once again being in each other’s arms. I never thought moving to Binghamton would bring this, but I’m damn glad that I did.