Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
CHASSIS
Amos tears his mouth away from mine. I’m on edge, ready to come, on the verge of jumping off the cliff and into supreme bliss. A second orgasm in what feels like just a few moments. I don’t know how this gets any better.
His gaze searches mine, his lips twitch into a smirk, and he thrusts a few more times, once, twice, three times, before he stills inside me. His groan hits my ears, and then my pussy clenches. I come. It’s sweet and slow, like warm caramel sauce. I want more. So much more.
I feel him empty inside me, and the wind blows, reminding me that we’re very much outside in this position. If he notices, he doesn’t care. His eyes continue to search mine in silence, a smile still playing on his lips.
“Take me home, sweetheart.”
My heart jumps at the word home. I open my mouth, unsure of what to say, what to do. He takes a step backward, and I lose him from inside me. I watch as he reaches for his jeans, tugging them up and zipping the zipper, but he doesn’t button them or buckle his belt.
He plucks my shorts off the ground and hands them to me. He doesn’t say anything as I pull them back up my legs and right myself. My eyes shift past his shoulder, and I look around to check if anyone is watching, but don’t see anyone.
Amos slides his arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. He dips his chin, his mouth brushing mine, but the kiss doesn’t linger, even though I want it to. “Let’s go home, Skel. I want to pass out in my own bed, beside my own woman.”
I don’t ask him any questions, even though I have several. Instead, I dip my chin in a single nod and move toward the driver’s door, but he reaches out and curls his fingers around my wrist, stopping me.
I look over my shoulder at him. His brows are knit together, almost as if he’s poised to ask me a question. He doesn’t, though. His hand drops, and then he takes a step backward.
We leave his bike there. He’s in no condition to drive. I can smell the booze seeping from his pores. My suspicions were somewhat right. I knew something was happening. I just didn’t know exactly what. I’m still not sure. Hopefully, when he’s sober, I can ask him, and maybe he’ll answer.
It doesn’t take us long to get home. The entire drive, Amos’s fingers curl around my thigh, squeezing gently as he holds me. Once we’re home, I open the car door and unfold from the front seat, looking around the dark street.
Amos walks up to the front door. He’s no longer swaying but clearly isn’t sober, either.
It takes him three tries to get the key in the lock.
I watch, trying not to laugh. I couldn’t picture him drunk until now, and if the ache between my legs is any indication of his drunk persona, I’m okay with it.
We walk into the house, and I close the door behind me, making sure to flip the lock into place.
I still have an uneasy feeling that has not eased with him here, and I don’t quite understand it.
I should be feeling better. Nothing happened with Minty.
He was drunk but quickly clarified all confusion and miscommunication.
So why do I feel this way?
Amos moves through the house, and a few moments later, I hear the water turn on in the shower. I close down everything for the night but make a pit stop in the kitchen. I need to go grocery shopping, but thankfully, the freezer is stocked.
I open the door and reach for a pint of gelato—Mediterranean mint, my absolute favorite. I pause at the sight. Minty… Minty. Wrinkling my nose, I shove it back inside. Too soon. Visions of her naked body flash in my mind.
Thankfully, I have a double chocolate chip gelato that’s almost as good and doesn’t make me think of that bitch. I grab a spoon from the drawer and make my way to the bedroom.
I pause when I hear the shower water turn off, and then there is Amos. He’s naked, walking through the room. My mouth waters at the sight of him. The craving for ice cream has completely vanished… now all I want is him.
If he senses me ogling him, he doesn’t let me know. He walks over to the dresser, tugs a drawer open, and takes out a pair of boxer briefs. I watch as he slips them on, trying not to drool but failing.
When he turns to me, his eyes meet mine before they shift down to the ice cream in my hand. His gaze moves to mine, and his lips twitch into a smirk. “A snack?” he asks.
I shrug a shoulder. “Yeah,” I whisper.
He closes the distance between us, then reaches out and slips the container of gelato from my fingers. “Go take a quick shower. Come and eat this in bed with me,” he rasps. His words are dripping with sex and innuendo.
I do exactly what he says. I walk to the bathroom and strip out of my clothes before I turn the water on. It’s still warm from his shower. I let the room fill with steam before I turn the heat down and step into the water.
Closing my eyes, I let the water wash over me as the warm spray beats down on my skin. I slather up with soap and massage my sore muscles. I cannot believe that this is my life, that this is real life.
Tears prick my eyes as I think about Samuil. He wants me to betray my husband, my family. He wants to know what I’m willing to do to make him go away. He didn’t detail what it would be, but I agreed. I said I would do it, whatever it takes… blindly.
Like an idiot, and now I’m regretting it.