12. Amelia
Chapter 12
Amelia
I sit on the plush carpet of West’s living room, with the most precious things I own. Photographs of my parents. My fingers trace the edges of each one as memories flood back with every image.
My gorgeous mom’s bright smile. Papa’s crinkled eyes. All moments frozen in time that I thought I had lost forever.
“Thank you,” I whisper, looking up at West. He’s perched on the edge of the couch, watching me with an unreadable expression. “I can’t believe you let me get these. You’ve got no idea how much it means to me.”
West runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’m recognizing as a sign of discomfort. “I feel awful, Amelia. I should have known how important they were to you.”
I shake my head, picking up a photo of my parents on their wedding day. “How could you have known? It’s not like I told you.”
“Still,” he insists, sliding down to sit beside me on the floor. “I should have asked. I was so caught up in this arrangement that I didn’t stop to think about what you might be leaving behind.”
His words catch me off guard. I’ve never heard him sound so vulnerable before. I set the photo down and turn to face him.
“These photos,” I begin, gesturing to the pile around us, “they’re all I have left of my parents. They died just over three years ago, when I was nineteen.”
West nods, but he doesn’t interrupt.
I take a deep breath and continue, “I lied to you. It wasn’t a car accident.” I take a deep breath as I recall the memory of my final day with them. “It was a sailing accident.”
“A sailing accident—”
I close my eyes and take in a deep breath before saying, “One minute they were here—” I trail off, unsure how much to reveal. “And the next...they weren’t. These photos, they’re now my connection to them. To the life I had before...”
West reaches out, placing his hand over mine. “Before what?” he prompts gently.
I bite my lip, considering.
There’s so much I want to tell him, so much I’ve been keeping bottled up inside. But old habits die hard, and the fear still lingers.
“Before everything changed,” I finally say, opting for a partial truth. “I had to grow up fast after they died. I had to make my own way in the world.”
West nods, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand.
“Is that why you ended up in New York?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I’m grateful for the change in the subject. “I thought I could disappear here, you know? Just be another face in the crowd.”
“Did you ever think about going back to Italy?” West asks.
I shake my head. “My…uncle came for me.”
“Your uncle?” he murmurs. “I thought you had no family.”
“I don’t.” I hate the rise of fear in my voice, but if West finds out everything—I don’t even want to think about it. “I don’t call him family because I hate him after what he did to me.” A sob rattles in my throat, and I hate that I feel scared just talking about my past. “He stole their money.”
“Stole it?” West murmurs. “How?”
“When the will was read, I was the sole beneficiary of their money…everything. I would’ve been fine. But according to my uncle, when they checked out my parents’ finances, they had nothing left.”
His eyes flick from left to right. Searching for something, I continue. “I know they had money, West. They had a sailing boat, and we lived in a large home in South Carolina. I wanted for nothing, and my father always told me my parents had set me up for life if anything should happen to them. I saw how much money they had in one bank account alone.”
I wipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks, but I’m not crying about my lack of inheritance.
He pulls me closer, stroking my hair. “It’s okay.”
My chest tightens, and another warm tear slips from my eye, landing on my lip. West reaches out, his thumb gently brushing it away. His touch is so tender, so unlike the cocky businessman I’ve come to know.
“It was in the millions, West. And then it disappeared.”
“I believe you.”
My chest caves against West’s, overwhelmed by his trust and his belief in me. “You do?”
He leans in closer, his eyes searching mine. “Yes, I believe you, Princess,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin.
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, as if he’s asking for permission.
I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. But then something inside me shifts, and I’m kissing him back.
He makes me feel something I haven’t felt for so long.
He makes me feel wanted.
The last time my heart ached like this was when I lost my mom and dad. But this feels different. This ache is new…not so painful.
Yet, one day, the day we end, it’ll feel exactly the same way as it did back then.
I can’t fall in love with him.
But how do I spend one year with him when he holds me like this? Especially when I like this feeling of being wanted–of being his.
My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palms. West’s arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens and his tongue presses between my lips.
I part them, inviting him in, and he responds with a low groan that sends shivers down my spine.
His fingers tangle in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss.
It’s passionate, urgent, like we’re both trying to pour everything into it. Everything we can’t say at this moment.
And at this moment, I forget about everything else. The arrangement, my past, and the uncertainty of my future. All that exists is West and me, his lips on mine, and the warmth of his body pressing against me.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless. West rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.
My heart races as West pulls back, his eyes locked on mine. “Amelia,” he whispers, his voice husky. “I want--“
I can’t believe what happened. I’ve never been kissed like that before, and he wants more.
“I want you too,” I whisper, knowing what he was about to say.
West undresses me, his hands moving with a frenzied urgency that matches the pounding of my heart.
I help him, pulling off his shirt, and helping him unbutton my pants as if they are burning me.
When we’re both semi-naked, West looks at me with such hunger in his gaze that my stomach flips.
He steps back for a moment, taking in the sight of me standing there in nothing but my underwear.
“I really need to buy some fancier stuff,” I say, feeling conscious of my white cotton panties and bra. I have a few nice pieces, but not enough for the week.
“You look amazing.” His eyes linger on my breasts, then travel down to the junction of my thighs. He licks his lips as his eyes roam upward again, landing on mine.
I blush at the hunger in his gaze.
He prowls towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. When he reaches me, his hand traces a path up my thigh to my hip. Electricity skates down my spine, and the heat between my legs grows with each touch. So does the wetness.
His thumb strokes over the hem of my panties. He pauses for a moment, looking up at me with wild eyes. And then he drops to his knees.
I freeze. Nobody has ever done that to me before. It feels...too intimate and scares me.
My hands try to cover where he is looking. “I’ve never…”
His eyes glance up at mine. “Nobody.”
I shake my head. “Felix didn’t…” I stutter. “He only liked receiving.”
“Fucking idiot!” West growls. “He never knew what he had.”
He never knew what he had.
You’ll only have me temporarily, too. I choose to keep it to myself.
“I want to. If you want it, that is.” His thumb keeps sliding over my thigh, like he is mesmerized by my skin. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’m just a little scared. I haven’t had a shower since this morning.”
He laughs. “I’m sure you’ll taste as delicious as you smell.” His thumb strokes over the fabric of my panties, teasing me as he moves closer to the hem.
West must sense my hesitation because he stops and smiles at me. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “I’m going to enjoy giving you everything you deserve. But only if you want me to.”
I nod. “Please.”
He smiles.
I moan as he reaches the top of my thigh and then slides his thumb under the hem; waves of pleasure course through me. He nuzzles over the top of my panties, his breath warm against my skin, and I have to grab his hair to ground me.
“Good girl. Put one leg over my shoulder and hold on tight.”
With those words, any lingering doubts or fears melt away. I want this just as much as he does. But I stand there for a moment longer, while we just look at each other.
West takes a deep breath and says, “I will look after you.”
I’m sure he means sex, but I don’t ask. I just smile, hold his head steady and slide my leg over his shoulder.
He pulls my panties to one side, revealing the wetness that has been building between my legs.
His mouth nears until his lips brush against me in a soft kiss. Electricity zips through my body, and I gasp aloud.
“Good?”
“Oh God…So good.”
The sensation is so intense that I shiver and arch my back, pressing myself closer to him.
Small gasps fall from my lips as he continues to kiss and lick me. His tongue probes deeper with each passing moment.
His thumb circles my clit as he continues to lick me, and I’m getting closer and closer to climaxing.
My breath is now ragged gasps as he works his magic on me, bringing me higher and higher until finally...
“West!” I explode, calling out his name over and over.
As I come down from my orgasmic high, West pulls away from me gently, wiping his thumb over his lips. “I knew you would taste delicious.”
I chuckle lightly as I catch my breath, still reeling from the intensity of what happened.
West licks his lips, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. My cheeks heat as I remember how he brought me to that peak, how he tasted every bit of me.
And how much I loved it.
Before I can fully process it, he scoops me up into his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck, laughing softly as he carries me upstairs and to his bedroom.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to hide my excitement.
“To clean you up,” he replies with a playful glint in his eye.
He sets me down gently on the plush bed, then heads to the bathroom. I sit there, my heart racing as I glance around the primary suite. It’s tastefully decorated, and just like the rest of his penthouse, it’s modern yet warm.
He returns with a damp cloth and kneels in front of me.
“Open your legs for me.”
My face heats. “I can do it.”
“Let me look after you.” His voice is low and soothing.
I squeak something incoherent.
West laughs as I try to wriggle away.
He holds my leg so I can’t move any further. “I’ve just fucked you with my tongue, and you come over my face, yet you don’t want me to clean you. Now hold still,” he instructs.
I think I just orgasmed again.
He works with such focus as he gently wipes my skin clean. Every stroke of the cloth, every touch of his fingers, sends sparks of sensation through me.
“West,” I say softly, “do you want to have sex?”
He pauses, looking up at me with those intense pale eyes that seem to see right through to my soul. “Seeing you come gave me my high,” he replies, and I detect pure honesty in his tone. “Now I want to hold you.”
He wants to hold me.
My heart swells. Sometimes we feel as fake as our relationship is, but at times like now, we feel like more than a casual arrangement.
I lean closer, resting against him as he finishes cleaning me up.
The warmth of his body radiates against mine; it’s so comforting that I’m craving more of him. “You don’t want to?”
“I do,” he interrupts gently. “But not yet.”
My stupid emotions are dancing between disappointment that he doesn’t want me and sheer relief that he’s not pushing me.
“Okay,” I whisper, surrendering to the moment as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his embrace.
We lay there together, side by side, but his warmth surrounds me. I breathe in the smell of fresh linen and that scent that is distinctly him.
It smells like home.
With his arms wrapped around me, he feels like home. He doesn’t know he’s grounding me in ways I haven’t felt in years.
“Do you want to talk about your parents?” His voice is a soft rumble against my ear.
I turn to him, my fingers brushing against his hard chest, over the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
I shake my head. “Not right now.” I’m still processing everything. Before today, I was so afraid of opening up about my life. Now I’ve started to open up; it feels overwhelming.
He nods, accepting my answer as he holds me close. Silence wraps around us like a comforting blanket; it feels natural.
West brushes his fingers along my arm, tracing lazy patterns that send shivers down my spine. “You’re safe here,” he assures me. “No one will hurt you.”
I believe him. It’s strange how quickly I’ve come to trust him. Maybe it’s because he sees beyond the surface that I give the world. He can see the broken pieces.
Pieces that are stuck together with weak glue.
Pieces I’ve tried to pretend are whole.
He leans closer, brushing his lips against my temple in a tender kiss that ignites every nerve ending in my body.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers against my ear.
I bite my lip, contemplating how different things feel since stepping into his world. No longer do I feel invisible; with him, I feel alive.
I turn to him and say, “Thank you.”
Knowing something has shifted inside me. Like I believe someone for the first time in years.
And I can hope my broken pieces might come together again.