Just a Number (47 page)

I run a hand over my face, understanding that I am partially to blame for this, but also unsure how to feel about her confession. Truthfully, even with everything we’ve sorted out already, I’m still a little angry and hurt, and I can’t get the image of the two of them pressed together out of my head. Bringing it up triggers my feelings of rage, but I know those feelings stem back to Gretchen. Hopefully that means I’ll be able to overcome it soon.

Do I feel badly for reacting the way I did? Absolutely. But was I unjustified in said reaction? I don’t believe so.

Taking a breath, I try to explain further so she might understand what seeing her dancing like that did to me emotionally. “But, seeing you with him? I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it drove me to the brink of madness. I saw you on the dance floor, and I flashed back to Gretchen cheating on me. I’ve been in a dishonest relationship before, and I’m sorry, but it’s made me a little quick to act first and ask questions later. I know it’s not healthy, and I’m working on it, but you can’t fault me for feeling what I feel.”

Amelia jumps to her feet and walks toward me, her eyes wide and apologetic. “I know,” she says, standing a foot away from me. “It was so stupid, and if I could take it back, I would. I crossed a line I honestly didn’t even know we’d drawn, and I’m sorry for that.”

I hear the sincerity in her voice, but I still don’t think she really understands, so I add on, “I’m well aware that Gretchen has absolutely no place in our relationship, but you have to realize that I have a past. I was married to that woman for a long time, and sometimes I can’t help but remember how she would react to certain situations. This is especially clear when you react differently or even in ways that cause me to flash back to the harder parts of our relationship. Like when I saw another man’s body pressed up against yours, his hands on your hips and thighs, and the lazy smile on your face—the smile you wear after I’ve made you come—it pushed me to the edge, and I suddenly felt…extremely possessive of you. I realize I have no right to feel that way, but the truth is, I do.

“In no way does this mean I’m constantly comparing you to one another—there’s no secret list of pros and cons hidden from you—and it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m holding you down on the same level as her. Our experiences shape us into who we are, Amelia, and I know I’ve developed some pretty fucked up trust issues which cause me to quickly jump to conclusions when it comes to any signs of infidelity—and that’s what seeing you dancing did.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

“I know. I am, too.”

“I think having you comparing me to her—”

I shake my head. “No. I wasn’t comparing you to her. I was comparing how I felt last night to how I felt when I found out about her infidelity—there is absolutely a difference there.”

“Okay. I get that, but the truth remains that it upset me. Probably because it held a modicum of truth.”

“Amelia, no…”

“Hear me out for just a second.” I do. “Everybody there last night saw me dancing with Justin. Like you, they didn’t know him or his sexual orientation. Then you flew in and pummeled him. To a room full of strangers, I looked like a cheater—a cheater like Gretchen. Thinking back on this just now, as we’ve been sitting here talking, well, it doesn’t sit well with me. Even though I thought I was better than her in so many ways, the fact is, my dad was right.” I hadn’t been expecting to hear that Alan might have actually fought for me versus against me, so I’m left a little stunned as Amelia continues. “I really didn't consider your feelings—something that was also common of Gretchen. I don’t want to lose you, Owen, so it's a scary thought to have any similarities to her, knowing what she did and why you left.”

Neither of us moves, still unsure where we stand, so I decide to take another giant leap. “You said something to me this morning that struck true, and I feel it only fair to be honest with you about it after you were brave enough to open up to me: You wondered if my behavior was due to his age. While that’s not all of it, it was—no,
is
a large part of it. Like you, I’m hyper-aware of our age difference and the very real possibility that you could leave me for someone younger whenever the mood struck.” Sighing, I cast my eyes from hers, scratching the back of my neck as I remembered what my sister had said. “We’re both at very different points in our lives, Amelia—something we both knew going into this. But somewhere along the line, we lost sight of that. We got so caught up in trying to justify our relationship to everyone else that we forgot about all the things that could ruin us. You deserve to be with someone who doesn’t assume the worst before asking questions, and I feel like I deserve someone who respects and holds the same standards in a relationship.”

“Wait… Wh-what are you saying?” Amelia asks, voice trembling.

“You’re young, still finishing college. You want to start on your career next year, and I… Well, I want a family.”

“Oh.” Amelia pauses, raising a hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She forces a smile as a lone tears slips from her eye and rolls down her cheek. She averts her gaze and swipes it away, probably hoping I hadn’t seen it. “Well, at least we had fun while it lasted. That was why we started, right?” She steps forward, swiping the tear from her cheek. “I guess ending things now, before we fall even deeper, is the right thing to do. I’ll, uh, let myself out.”

I’m stunned into silence, going over what I said and wondering where I went wrong. It was never my intention to end things, but I definitely see how she had gotten that impression. Before she can leave the living room, I grab her by the arm. “Amelia,” I say softly, staring deep into her eyes. “This isn’t me telling you it’s over between us… I don’t want this to be over.”

“But you just said…”

“I know what I said, but that’s not what I meant… Well, it is, but I think it got lost in translation.” I sense her relief, drinking it in like a fresh glass of water. “All I was trying to say was that, because we’re at these points in our lives, we need to work harder—communicate better—to make it work. I love you, Amelia. You make me see the world in new and exciting ways. I’m alive in ways I never knew possible. But…”

“What?”

“If I told you I wanted to have a baby in the next year, what would you say?”

“I—” Amelia inhales deeply, biting her lower lip as she contemplates my hypothetical request. “I’d want to talk about it, but it wouldn’t be off the table. I’d consider it. For you.”

“That’s all I ask,” I say. Hearing that she’d consider my request is all I need. To know that we’d be open to discussing it and even compromising on when to start that stage of our relationship comforts me in a way I didn’t even know I’d been craving until this morning.

Her smile returns, wide and genuine. “After you left,” she says softly, “I realized that, had I been in your position and saw some woman dancing with you the way I was dancing with Justin, I’d have lost my damn mind. So, I get it now, and I can’t apologize enough for it.”

I stand a little straighter, my chest expanding as my ego inflates. It’s a typical male reaction, and I’m not proud of it, but hearing Amelia admit that she was just as much at fault as me helps. I take a step forward, closing the small distance between us, and look deep into her eyes.

“To be honest, there was only one word going through my mind as I made my way through that bar.” I feel like oxygen is becoming scarce as her breathing deepens, her breasts brushing against my chest.

Amelia pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, her chest heaving with deeper breaths as her eyes flit between mine, and I can’t stop my desire from consuming me. Even though we still have so much to talk about, I want her, and I sense she wants me just as much.

“Oh?” A shiver overtakes her as my hand shifts, the backs of my fingers grazing her hip. She trembles again, shifting her legs slightly, and swallows thickly. Lust surges through my veins in response as the tension between us builds. Every emotion we’d experienced in the last fourteen hours—anger, remorse, fear, love—amalgamates, creating this intoxicating sexual fog I can’t ignore any longer.

I continue to tease the hem of her short skirt, pushing it up slightly as I lean forward, licking my lips. I can’t stay away from her any more. I need her as much as she needs me.

“
Mine
.”

In a flash, her hands fly up to my face, and I press my lips to hers. She moans when my hands move down over her hips until my fingers hook into the hem of her skirt. Frantic, I tug at her panties, pushing her across the living room and pressing her back against a wall. She steps out of the lace fabric as I push my sweater up her body, grazing her supple breasts over the shirt she wears underneath. She raises her arms so I can remove the sweater entirely, and I throw it to the floor, her shirt following shortly after. Our lips hungrily collide again, her fingers twisting into my hair. She pulls her skirt up around her waist and hops up, wrapping her legs around my hips as I brace her between my body and the wall. Gripping her ass with my right hand, I slip my left below her ass to fumble with the button of my jeans and push them out of the way to free my erection.

“Owen,” she pants when I pull my lips from hers and kiss along her delicate jaw, letting my length graze the silky skin between her legs.

“Tell me,” I murmur between pecks, hiking her skirt up around her waist before palming one of her amazing breasts in my left hand. “Tell me who you belong to.”

Her body quivers against mine, her legs tightening around my hips and trying to force me closer to her, desperate to have me inside her.

I recognize that Amelia isn’t the type of girl who allows a guy to treat her like a possession; she’s strong and confident, never taking shit from anyone—male or female—but she seems receptive to it as she moans and gyrates her hips against me.  She hisses when I push my hips forward, my erection strong and prominent as it glides between her thighs. “Amelia,” I say, my tone laced with impatience.

“You,” she whimpers, meeting my intense stare, eyebrows pulled up and together, pleading. “I belong to you.”

I kiss her again before pulling her lower lip between my teeth as I slip my hand around her ass and adjust her hips slightly to line us up. She moans when I graze her delicate flesh, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes in ecstasy.

“Baby,” she whispers. “Please…”

Smiling smugly, I lean forward, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

The tip of my erection brushes against her again, and she bites back a cry of passion. “You,” she replies breathlessly when I shift my hips again.

I hum with the shake of my head. “Not good enough.”

Amelia threads her fingers into my damp hair as I kiss a trail down her collarbone and take one of her pert nipples into my mouth. My tongue swirls around the erect peak, and she arches her back toward me. “I-I want you.” With a smirk, I nip at the swell of her breast, surprising a gasp from her. “Make love to me,” she begs. “Claim me, Owen. Make me yours.”

With a growl of satisfaction, I pull back. A look of confusion sweeps over Amelia’s face, but it is quickly replaced with bliss the second I grip her hips and enter her. Her fingers curl into my neck and shoulders as her cries fill the room, and while I’m definitely enjoying the sensation of her tight warmth surrounding me, the truth of the matter is, the standing position is slightly awkward.

She pulls my lips back to hers as I peel her back from the wall and walk us back toward the couch. I lower us and then withdraw from between her thighs, earning a very frustrated groan that is short-lived as I flip her over onto her hands and knees. Grabbing the arm of the couch, she presents herself to me while my hands move roughly over her skin with purpose. I bunch the supple leather skirt up around her slender waist, exposing her to me entirely. My hands continue to glide over Amelia’s ass, and then up along the curve of her hips and toward her shoulders before moving back down her spine. She groans when I reach the base of her spine, gently sliding my fingers between her cheeks and applying the right amount of pressure to make her mewl. Her hands tighten around the arm of the couch, nails scratching the leather ever-so-lightly as I continue to tease her, and she begs quietly for me to take her again. The sound of her voice fades as I oblige her, moving slowly at first, my hips pistoning at a steady pace, my enthusiasm increasing.

My fingers continue to knead the soft flesh of her tight little ass, and she cries out when I begin thrusting harder and faster, my pleasure amplifying. My vision starts to blur and every muscle in my body tenses, coiling tight and preparing to release. I’m seconds away from what promises to be the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever had, and Amelia is announcing how close she is as well when I pull away from her body for a second time.

With another, more vocal, groan of displeasure, she turns to look at me. I only smile wickedly before sitting back on the couch, legs parted and arms draped along the back. She glances down to my lap, finding me still rock-hard and glistening, and I watch her expectantly. Not only do I want to watch her ride me to completion, but I need to be face to face with her when it happens, too. I crave the pleasure of watching her face as she comes undone.

Understanding flashes in her hooded eyes, and she slowly stands up and heads my way. After removing her skirt entirely, she lifts her right leg to straddle my lap. Amelia closes her eyes as I slip a hand between us and use it to guide my length into her. The instant she’s sitting flat against my thighs, I ensnare her hips and set our pace. Our mutual need is so intense that she attempts to move her hips faster, and I want to allow her the freedom to do this, but I also want to draw this out for just a little while longer. I succeed in holding her steady, forcing her to hold off on her own orgasm until I’m ready to come with her.

Leaning forward, Amelia rests her damp forehead against mine, opening her eyes slightly to find mine equally as hooded, and she licks her lips. “Baby, please,” she begs, slipping a hand between us and stroking herself. She inhales a shuddered breath as she continues to move her fingers in concise circles, and I—completely turned on by the sight and feel of her working her body into a sexual frenzy—grip her ass tightly, pulling her against me a little rougher and forcing her hand to press harder.