Chapter 14 Bastiaan
Bastiaan
Amber tastes like fear and fire.
The moment her lips touch mine, it’s like years of restraint snap in half. Every reason I’ve had to keep my distance—every excuse, every wall I built—disintegrates. She’s trembling in my arms, her fingers in my hair like I’m the only thing holding her together. Maybe I am.
I pull her fully onto my lap, and Christ, the way she fits against me is obscene.
Soft. Warm. Perfect. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, a groan tearing out of my chest as she presses against me.
God, I’ve wanted this—her—for so long. And now that I finally have her here, I can barely hold myself back.
Her lips move against mine, hesitant at first, then hungry, like she’s been starving for this too.
She whimpers when I grip her waist, and it shoots straight to my cock, hot and hard against her thigh.
I want to lay her back, rip that sweater off, taste every inch of her until she’s shaking for a better reason than fear.
But I can’t. Not like this.
“Bastiaan…” she whispers, her voice shaky but drenched in need, and fuck, it almost undoes me.
I kiss along her jaw, down to the soft curve of her neck.
Her scent—flowers and something sweetly, maddeningly her—wraps around me.
She tilts her head, offering more, and I swear I almost lose it.
My fingers dig into her hips, keeping her still because if she moves, if she even rocks against me right now, I’m gone.
I press my forehead to hers, chest heaving. “Amber,” I rasp, my voice rougher than I want, “I want you. God, I fucking want you… but not like this. Not when you’re scared. Not when we’re running.”
She swallows hard, nodding, though disappointment flickers in her eyes. I kiss her once more, slow and deep, letting her taste linger on my tongue before I lift her off my lap. I tuck her against my side, and she exhales a shaky sigh.
I hold her, stroking her hair, my cock throbbing in my jeans while I force myself to calm down.
I can feel her warmth seeping through my clothes, and it’s a special kind of torture knowing I could have her right now if I let myself.
But she deserves more than a man who can’t see past his own need and demons.
Her trembling slows as her breathing evens out against my chest. Eventually, her body softens, the weight of her sleep settling into me. I keep my eyes on the small window above the sofa, my own heartbeat still too fast.
The canal outside glints in the moonlight, dark and glassy. Amsterdam nights usually hum with bikes and laughter, but here, tucked in this narrow waterway, it’s silent.
Too silent.
A faint ripple moves across the water. My spine stiffens, every nerve strung tight. Could be a duck. Could be the wind. But my gut twists, whispering danger.
I shift carefully, easing Amber onto the sofa. She whimpers softly, and I brush my knuckles over her hair. “Shh, liefje. I’ve got you,” I whisper, my voice low. She sighs and doesn’t wake.
Crossing the barge silently, I crouch by the window near the door. The moonlight spills across the water, and there it is—a boat, gliding too close. No lights. Too smooth. My jaw clenches. That boat wasn’t there before.
A soft, deliberate knock breaks the stillness.
My muscles lock.
Amber jerks awake with a tiny gasp. “Bas?”
I drop to her side immediately, finger to her lips. “Stay quiet. Stay low. Don’t move until I say.”
Her eyes are wide and scared, but she nods.
Another knock—louder this time. Whoever it is, they’re not here by accident.
I grab the duffel and pull out my pistol. I told Jack I didn’t have one, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about the kind of guy I am. But at home, out in the countryside, miles from anyone else, I’ve always kept one close. No idea why I keep it, as I’ve never fired it.
My hand is steady anyway.
Three sharp raps this time, followed by a muffled voice. Dutch. Male. Calm.
I can’t make out the words, but the tone. The tone tells me everything.
Not friendly. Not casual.
Amber crawls closer, her hand brushing my leg. “Who is it?” she whispers.
“I don’t know. But it’s not good,” I murmur.
The boat rocks slightly outside, water lapping against the hull. I stay to the side of the door, gun ready, heart pounding a cold, steady rhythm. Whoever they are, they found us faster than I expected.
And I’ll put a bullet in someone before I let them take her.