Chapter 5 Amelia
AMELIA
Seclusion is a rarity in the city. Too many people crammed into an area where the buildings have nowhere else to go but up.
Ireland couldn’t be any more different to New York City if it tried. Declan follows the coastal road towards his home, and I don’t see a single person on the beach. Anywhere.
We don’t talk much in the car. We don’t need to. His hand often drifts towards mine, and the touch sends electricity sparking directly to my core.
I could stay in this car with him forever, driving around Ireland, Declan pointing out landmarks, places where he took his sons when they were children, inns that serve the best food, bars that have live music and the best atmosphere on a Saturday night.
He’s subtly introducing me to his world.
A subconscious invitation to be a part of his life.
At least, that’s what my heart is yelling at me.
He wants you, Amelia… He cares about you… He could’ve fucked you and sent you back on the first flight out of Dublin, denied ever touching you, found a new housekeeper who knows how to operate the Aga, and bakes bread, and prefers women.
But he didn’t. He has accepted responsibility for what happened and is open to all the messiness that is bound to follow. Which is why I’m not scared.
How can I be scared with him beside me?
The sea is choppy when we finally arrive, gray, reflecting the clouds rolling in from the horizon.
I know why he chose this beach. We park at the side of the road and scramble down a narrow almost-path between trees and overgrown foliage to reach the beach.
Once we’re on the sand, we’re invisible from anyone driving by if we stay close to the overhang.
We take off our shoes and socks and wander down to the water. I squeal when the sea creeps over my feet, leaving a frothy trail in its wake as it retreats.
“How is it so cold?”
Declan laughs. He should laugh more often; he looks younger when the faint lines fanning from the corners of his eyes are from amusement and not from the weight of life piling up on his shoulders.
“This is the Irish Sea. We’re closer to the North Pole.”
I step back from the eater’s edge, curling my toes into the damp sand to warm them up while I figure out if he’s serious or not.
Before I can react, he scoops me up into his arms and pretends to toss me into the water. I squeal again, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging on. He kisses me there in the shallows, his heart thudding against my chest.
“You make me feel young again, Amelia.”
“You’re not old.”
He sets me down, our bodies sliding together, and this time, I don’t feel the cold water creeping up to my ankles. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me tenderly. And I stand on tiptoes and drag my fingers through his hair.
“Do you bring all your housekeepers to this beach?” I arch an eyebrow, our lips still touching. “Is it some kind of test to see how I react to the Arctic temperatures?”
He smiles, but when he speaks, his tone is serious. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever brought here.” The breeze whips my hair around my face, and he brushes it away from my eyes. “You’re very special, Amelia. I want you to know that.”
My blood is pumping around my veins. I’m really doing this. I’m here on a beach in Ireland, kissing my new boss when I should be keeping his home in order. I saw the job description; at no point did it mention personally taking care of the boss.
I can almost hear Carol’s voice in my head: “What the holy fuck do you think you’re doing, Mia? What’s going to happen when you get tired of screwing around with each other? What happens when you meet his sons and realize you’re more attracted to them than their father, huh?”
I love Carol to death, but right now, her voice of reason isn’t what I need.
I know what I’m doing.
And even if I don’t, even if I’ve got this so fucking wrong, I’m going to hate myself tomorrow or the next day when Declan introduces me to his girlfriend.
I’m in too deep to back down. My pussy is aching for him.
My panties are wet. He only has to look at me, and I’m a gooey mess of want and desire and a whole heap of other stuff that I haven’t yet figured out.
And what Carol doesn’t know can’t hurt her, as the saying goes.
So, I push all thoughts of my best friend from my mind and hear myself saying, “How special?”
He peers into my eyes for so long I start to feel giddy. Then, “Any man would be lucky to have you. I want you to promise me that you’ll always know your worth.”
“Sounds serious.” I hold his gaze. “Is this your way of telling me—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that’s so hard, so desperate, that I can’t breathe. “It’s my way of telling you how much I want you.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” I tease.
“I thought…”
Before he can finish, the first raindrops hit my back.
I realize how gloomy the sky has turned while we’ve been wrapped in each other’s arms, but Declan doesn’t miss a beat.
Shrugging off his jacket, he holds it over my head, and we run back towards the road.
But he pulls me away from the overgrown path and underneath the overhang.
We peer out at the drizzly rain, snuggled together in the sandy shelter, fat raindrops dripping from the branches overhead.
Then Declan pulls me around to face him, and his cold hands are underneath my sweater and teasing my nipples, and our tongues are already clashing.
“I’m all yours, Amelia.” His voice is husky. “You have no fucking idea…”
I think I do, but I realize that we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of what this might be. Of what our hearts are telling us. Of what we both want from this.
He pulls my sweater over my head and studies my breasts as if they’re something to be worshipped. I swallow hard. I unbutton his shirt and slide it over his shoulders. After the frantic desperation of his study, this moment feels tender, like it’s our first time, and I want to savor it.
I place my hands on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. His wife’s name is tattooed above his heart. I’m not jealous. It’s beautiful, all elegant cursive entwined with flowers, and my heart melts for him. He loved her. She’s the mother of his sons. It’s only right.
“Take off your clothes, Amelia.”
I unzip my jeans and drag them down over my hips with my panties. I’ve never been self-conscious about my body, but when Declan looks at me, I want to know what he sees. I want to be perfect for him.
With the pitter-patter of the rain from the overhanging shelter providing the backdrop, he traces his way down my body with his fingertips, sending shivers up and down my spine. Goose bumps pop on my skin, and my teeth chatter.
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
He pulls me into his arms and licks the bite mark on my neck as if he can make it magically disappear. “I shouldn’t have—”
“I wanted you to.”
He kisses my lips. Then my jawline. My earlobes. And every part of my body responds to his touch.
He cups my face with his hands and peers into my eyes.
My nipples brush his chest, and his erection grows inside his pants.
But none of that matters. What matters is that I can’t imagine being here with anyone else.
I’ve never gotten naked in public before.
Aside from the fact that it’s illegal, no one has ever made me want to take off my clothes and do things that would get us locked up if we were caught.
But with Declan, I feel safe.
I know that if someone walked along this beach right now, he would protect me. He would put himself in the line of fire if it meant that I wouldn’t get hurt, and I’ve never met anyone who would do that for me.
As if he can read my mind, he says, “I will never let anyone hurt you, Amelia.”
“I believe you,” I whisper.
“Do you trust me?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
“It’s more than I deserve, but I promise I won’t let you down.”
When he kisses me, I forget that we’re on a beach with the rain bouncing off the surface of the sea. I forget that, moments ago, I was shivering. Because with his arms around me, and his lips on mine, anywhere in the world would be the right place to be.
It’s late when we get back to the house.
The lights are on, but it’s quiet, like the house has been waiting for us. In the foyer, Declan pulls me into his arms and kisses me swiftly on the lips, crushing me against him as if he doesn’t want to let go.
He’s taking a huge risk that Orla won’t suddenly appear from the kitchen and catch us. But his eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t peer around him warily or flinch at the sounds of the hot water gurgling through the pipes.
“I’m heading up to my room,” I say.
I should see if Orla is in the living room or the conservatory, where she spends a lot of time, but my hair is stringy wet and sandy from the beach, my lips are swollen, and I don’t trust myself to lie convincingly enough to fool her.
If she’s anything like my grandma, she’ll take one look at me and ask me if I’m serious about whichever young man got inside my panties.
“Sweet dreams.” Declan pulls me to him and kisses my forehead.
He’s still watching me when I reach the top of the stairs and turn around. I blow him a kiss and float along the landing to my bedroom.
Inside I head straight into my ensuite and study my reflection in the mirror. Even if I ignore the sand in my hair, and the red mark on my neck, I look like a woman who had multiple orgasms.
“Fuck.” I lean closer and inspect my face and neck for more visible signs.
My lips will settle overnight, but there’s another faint red mark near my left ear that will be harder to cover up. I might need to straighten my hair after my shower and roll out the timeless excuse: I burnt myself on my straightener.