33. Amara
Chapter thirty-three
Amara
H is lips crash into mine before I can say another word.
It’s intense, heated, pouring all of his frustration into the kiss. His hands find my face, cradling it like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go. Every inch of me melts into him, and for a moment, I forget everything else. Liam. The insults he threw at me. Everything.
“Nicholas…” I murmur against his lips.
“Let me kiss you,” he mutters, his voice rough… pained, even. “Just… fuck . I need this.”
He closes the distance again, and I gasp into his mouth as he kisses me deeper, rougher, desperate. I feel the tension rolling off him, the clench of his jaw, the faint tremor in his fingers as he grips my waist.
“Nicholas,” I whisper.
He groans, pulling away with a ragged breath. There’s a flicker of something dark in his eyes as he steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration before he turns around. “Fuck.”
“Nicholas?” I breathe, a frown tugging at my lips.
He turns toward me, his face suddenly hard. “What the hell was he doing here, Amara?” His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. “Why were you alone with him?” he presses. “In our apartment?”
The word snags in my chest. Our . Not his. Ours. Even now, with the flicker of hurt in his eyes and the tension radiating off him, he still calls it ours.
“How did he even know where you were?” His nostrils flare, his jaw tight.
“He still had my location on his phone,” I tell him, my throat feeling tight at the way his expression shifts. “I didn’t tell him, Nicholas. I swear.”
He takes a step closer, his gaze boring into mine. “Do you still have feelings for him?” His thumb brushes against my bottom lip.
I shake my head, firm and certain, not an ounce of doubt in me. “No, Nicholas. I don’t.”
The relief on his face is instant but fleeting. His shoulders relax, but his grip on me tightens, his hands sliding firmly to my waist. “Then tell me.” His voice drops lower, sending a shiver down my spine. “What the fuck was that asshole doing here? Why did he think he still had a chance with you?” His eyes burn into mine. “When it’s my ring on your finger?”
I suck in a breath, his words sinking deep into my chest. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me dizzy. This isn’t real , I remind myself. It’s all fake . But the way he’s looking at me, the way his voice wavers as he waits for my answer… feels anything but fake.
“He texted me,” I admit. “He said he wanted to talk, and I—” I falter, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I thought maybe I needed closure.”
His jaw tightens, his brows knitting together. “Closure,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You wanted to see if you’d made a mistake. In choosing me.”
“No. Of course not. I just… We dated for a long time, and I thought I owed him a conversation.”
“You don’t owe him anything , Amara.” Nicholas’s voice is firm, his hands tightening around my waist as though he’s afraid I’ll slip away. “He insulted you, broke your trust, and turned his back on you. That’s on him, not you. Never you, baby.”
I blink up at him, trying to hold back the sting in my eyes, but he tips my chin up so I can’t look away. “What you said before,” I ask. “Did you mean it?”
For a moment, his expression softens, and I know he knows exactly what I’m talking about. The words he said to Liam, the ones that had left my stomach twisting and my heart racing. When he’d said I’d been in his head long before this fake engagement started.
At first, I’d assumed it was a lie, a tactic to throw Liam off, to make it clear that I wasn’t an option anymore. But now, looking at him, I can’t shake the feeling that there was truth in it.
He holds my gaze for a long moment. And then, finally, he nods.
“I meant every word I said to him,” he tells me. “It might’ve been wrong. You were my assistant, you had a boyfriend, and I had no right to think about you that way.” The confession sends my heart racing. His gaze never wavers, holding me captive in a way that leaves me breathless. “But I thought about you anyway,” he admits. “I pictured you. Wondered what it’d feel like to touch you.” His fingers graze down my arm, my skin breaking out in chills. “I wondered what it’d be like to kiss you,” he continues, leaning in until his lips are a breath away from mine.
The softest brush of his lips against mine steals my thoughts, my breath—everything. My knees threaten to give out, and I grip his arms to ground myself.
I let out a shaky breath, my chest rising and falling too quickly. “Nicholas…”
“I didn’t lie to him, Amara.” His eyes darken, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid I might disappear. “Not once.” His hands slide to my waist. “You’ve been living in my head for months—no, years. And I wanted him to know you weren’t an option. You’re mine, Amara,” he says, the words rough and soft all at once as his lips capture mine.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath mingling with my own. “My assistant,” he murmurs, his lips grazing mine again before they drift to my jaw. He trails a path of kisses there, each one slower, softer, as though he’s memorizing every inch of my skin.
“My fiancée.” He pauses, breathing me in like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down my spine, and when his tongue flicks against my skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth, I gasp.
He groans against me, the sound deep and raw, as if simply kissing me is driving him wild. His lips, his teeth, his tongue… All of it works in perfect rhythm to mark me, claim me, and I feel myself surrendering completely.
“My fucking woman,” he says, his voice filled with possessiveness, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other slipping beneath the hem of my sweater.
“You’re all. Fucking. Mine.” His hands tug at the hem of my sweater, inching it up over my hips, until the fabric is slipping over my head and pooling on the floor.
“Nicholas,” I whisper, half naked as he devours me with his eyes. His hands slide to the waistband of my pants, and before I can catch my breath, they’re off. Those dark brown eyes roam over every inch of my skin.
“You’re so insanely gorgeous,” he says, and I don’t know what to do with the raw honesty in his voice.
Before I can respond, his arms are under me, lifting me off my feet like I weigh nothing. I squeak, my hands clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”
He just laughs, the sound low and smug. “Carrying my woman to bed.”
He nudges the door open with his foot, the hinges creaking, and he lets me down gently, turning me around swiftly until we’re both facing his huge floor-length mirror. My reflection stares back at me, flushed and disheveled, and I hate the way my gaze immediately falls to the ground at the sight of him, tall, handsome, full of muscles… and then me beside him—the complete opposite.
I try to look away, but his fingers are under my chin, gently lifting my face until I meet his gaze in the mirror. “You think I don’t see you looking away every time you look in the mirror?”
I don’t answer, my eyes glued to my reflection as I swallow hard. All I can see are the parts of myself I’ve spent years trying to hide. The curve of my stomach, the softness of my thighs, the roundness of my arms.
His hands slide down to rest on my shoulders, his touch warm. “Don’t you see how fucking beautiful you are to me?” he asks, his thumb brushing across my jaw, making my skin tingle.
I shake my head, but he doesn’t let me look away. His fingers trail down my arms, then back up to cup my face, tilting it toward the mirror, his lips brushing against my temple. “Look at yourself, Amara.”
My gaze flickers, unsure, but his hands move again, skimming down my sides, tracing every curve like he owns them. He cups my breasts over my bra. “I love these,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing against the fabric. “The way they feel under my hands, how perfectly they fit in my palms.”
Heat rushes to my face, but he doesn’t stop, his hands trailing down to my stomach. “And this,” he adds, pressing his palm flat against my belly, making me suck in a breath. “This is sexy as hell. I love kissing it. Love how it tugs at the fabric when you wear a tight dress.”
I shake my head, the words catching in my throat, but he grips my chin, turning my face to meet his gaze in the mirror. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re anything but fucking perfect.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” His hands roam lower, over my hips, my thighs, pausing to squeeze gently. “These,” he continues, his hands gripping my thighs, “are my favorite sight in the world. Thick and gorgeous, fills my hands perfectly.” His eyes lock on mine in the mirror. “I especially love when my head is buried between them.”
I breathe out a laugh, and he spins me around, his hands flying to my hips as he looks down at me with those dark, gorgeous eyes of his that make me melt.
Slowly, he tips my head back, tracing my jaw with his lips. “You are my everything.”
My breath catches at his words, the intensity of them making my heart race. I feel his lips move lower, trailing down my neck, pausing at my collarbone. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, Amara. Every time I look at you, touch you, I can’t believe I get to have this. Have you .”
A shaky breath escapes me as his hands trace my curves, leaving no part of me untouched. “It kills me that you don’t see what I see. Because when I look at you, all I see is perfection.”
His words, combined with the way his hands and lips trail over my skin, undo me completely.
“You might not see it yet, but you will,” he promises. “I’ll make you see that you’re everything I want.”
Pulling back, he turns me back around to face the mirror and this time I don’t look away. I stare at our reflection. His hands, large and confident, framing my body like I’m his masterpiece. My hair is messy, my skin flushed, but the way his eyes devour me makes me feel like the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
“I want to show you something,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he kisses my cheek, my jaw, every part of me that he can.
I feel so drunk on his kisses, my eyes close as I let myself be consumed by his touch. His hands come to rest on my hips, fingers spreading wide, and he pulls me back against him. I can feel him—hard and thick—pressing against my ass, and the pulse between my legs throbs in response.
“Show me,” I breathe out, because I don’t give a damn what it is. I love everything this man does to me.
“Not here,” he replies, his fingers sliding down my stomach, dipping into my panties as he begins to play with my clit, soft, slow, and torturous. “It’s a place.”
My brows knit together, but when he circles my clit again, I let out a moan, leaning back against him. “What kind of place?”
“The fun is in the mystery, baby.” Amusement coats his tone as one hand slides down my back, cupping my ass. A gasp escapes me as his fingers knead my flesh, slow and teasing. His hands are everywhere—gripping, claiming, lighting my skin on fire.
“God, I can’t wait.” His voice drops to a low rumble, his fingers tugging down the hem of my panties.
I feel my pussy dripping onto his hand as he plays with my clit, his other hand spreading my ass wider, his fingers dipping lower to tease my untouched hole, which makes a gasp leave my lips.
“Relax, honey,” he murmurs, spreading my legs wider with his knee. “I won’t touch you here if you don’t want me to.” His finger brushes it again and I swallow hard. “What color, Amara?” he asks.
The sensation is strange and foreign and everything I shouldn’t want, but I find my body arching into him, my thighs pressing together in anticipation. “Green,” I whisper.
“That’s my fucking girl,” he murmurs, the praise hitting me like a jolt of electricity straight to my clit. He pulls his hands away and I almost let out a whimper as Nicholas heads toward his nightstand.
I turn around, watching him open the drawer, and when I see the small metallic plug in his hand, my eyes widen.
His lips twitch. “I need to stretch that tight little hole out before you even think about having me inside of you.”
His words send a shiver through me as Nicholas approaches me. “Hands against the mirror, honey. Bend down and spread those pretty legs for me.”
I swallow, my clit throbbing with anticipation as I turn around and press my hands against the cold metal, glancing at the reflection as I see Nicholas walk toward me, his eyes fixed on my ass in the air for him.
He lets out a groan, as he grabs my ass in his big hands before he kneels behind me, spreading me wider, completely exposing me to him. I know without a doubt my face has never been this red or hot before.
“That’s it. Fuck you’re so beautiful everywhere.”
A moan rips from my throat when I feel his finger graze my hole, slowly pushing inside.
“Goddamn, you’re tight,” he grunts, pressing into me deeper, filling me in a way I’ve never been filled before.
“Please,” I find myself saying, a cry ripping from my throat.
“Please?” Nicholas repeats. “You want more, honey?”
I nod, my face pressed against the mirror as he continues to work his finger slowly inside of me.
“Christ, you’re going to kill me,” he murmurs, pulling his finger out of me. I hear the sound of a cap opening and then the feel of cool metal pressed against me.
The sensation is sharp at first, and I gasp, but Nicholas moves slowly, carefully, working the plug inside of my ass until it slides in. I let out a mix between a moan and a cry as my body stretches around the intrusion, unfamiliar but so fucking exciting.
“Breathe,” he urges, his hands steadying me. His lips brush the curve of my back as I adjust, the fullness making me hyper aware of every shift, every twitch of my body. “That’s it, baby. Let it stretch that pretty hole out.”
I exhale slowly, letting my body adjust, but then I feel Nicholas pull back. His hands trail back up my sides, pulling me into him.
He presses a soft kiss to my back, before stepping away. Without a word, he heads toward his closet. “Get dressed,” he says, like he didn’t just shove a plug in my ass.
I blink, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder. “What?”
“You heard me.” He shoots me a grin as he shrugs on his suit jacket.
I blink again, wondering if I heard him wrong. “With this inside of me?” I shake my head, flustered. “I can’t—” I groan as I stand up straight, the pressure inside me intense, every small movement sending a ripple of pleasure through me.
“You’ll get used to it.” His hands cup my face as his lips find mine. “I promise.”
My body twitches involuntarily, and he chuckles, the sound dark and full of amusement.
“Or maybe not,” he corrects, a smirk curling his lips. “But I think you’ll enjoy it either way.”