Chapter Five #4
And Imogen’s dislike of celebrity culture made so much more sense now.
Not that Amelia was an influencer, but hundreds of videos of her were streamed daily on all the different platforms. Interviews, movie clips, event appearances, gossip—most of it untrue.
And that was only social media. The tabloids were a whole other kettle of fish.
But, in Amelia’s case, it was a side effect of her job.
She didn’t go looking for the attention, but public scrutiny came with the territory.
Which meant that there was every chance that Imogen would bolt the second Amelia told her who she was.
And that moment was only getting closer.
Shit.
Well, she was at least going to try to make the most of the short time that she had left on their date before she inevitably pulled the rug from under herself. “That’s terrible, Imogen. You deserve so much better than that. God, I’m sorry that I made you dredge all of that stuff up.”
“Don’t be,” Imogen said, brushing it off. “Believe me, I’m over it now. And her. Besides, everything happens for a reason, right?”
Amelia gave her a questioning look, because she wasn’t sure what reason there could be for treating someone like trash. “You think so?”
“I do.” Imogen locked her gaze on Amelia. “If that hadn’t happened to me then I probably wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”
For a moment, warmth overtook the guilt brewing inside of her. Amelia could allow herself to enjoy this for a few more minutes, couldn’t she? “Well, I can’t say I’m happy that happened to you, but I must admit that I am very happy that you broke your dating strike to come out with me today.”
“I figured you were worth the exception.” Imogen lifted her plastic flute of wine. “To making exceptions.”
Amelia leaned forward and clinked her flute against Imogen’s. “To making exceptions,” she repeated. “I feel very lucky that you did.” She just hoped Imogen would have it in her heart to make one more.
They both sipped from their drinks and continued to eat their way through the amazing spread that Imogen had provided.
When Amelia thought of picnics she usually thought of sandwiches and salads.
Flasks of coffee. Maybe some of those little, tiny sausages or leftover chicken.
But Imogen’s idea of a picnic? A hundred times better.
And whoever Sally was, Amelia agreed—her jam was one of the best she had ever tried.
Afterward, Amelia helped Imogen gather up what small amount of food they had left and pack it into her backpack along with the empty wine bottle that Imogen said she would recycle back at the bar.
After the two glasses she’d drunk, Amelia felt warm and tingly, and slightly more courageous about what she was going to tell Imogen. Slightly.
Needing a minute to brace herself, Amelia slowly wandered away from the picnic table toward the cliff edge.
She didn’t get too close to the edge—Amelia wasn’t scared of heights, but she wasn’t overly comfortable with them either.
She just got close enough to get a good look at the expanse of ocean that stretched out for miles in front of them.
There was something incredibly calming about watching ocean waves lap and crash and swell.
Amelia had always thought so. She loved the sea and all its different moods, and the sea in Ireland was particularly moody.
She didn’t have to turn around to sense Imogen approach from behind. She stopped beside Amelia and silently peered out for a few seconds too. “I’ve always thought that the sunset would look amazing from up here, but I didn’t know how you’d feel about walking back down in the dark.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Amelia said quietly so as not to disturb nature’s peaceful ambience. “I’m sure my tour guide would keep me right and ensure that I don’t go stumbling down any hills or anything.”
“All part of the service.” Imogen grinned. “Maybe another time then…”
Amelia didn’t miss that Imogen let the sentence hang there, dangling between them, a question disguised as a statement. Imogen wanted to know if there was going to be a second date, and Amelia wanted there to be. God, she wanted there to be so badly. “I would love that,” she replied honestly.
Only, she was almost positive that Imogen would change her mind after she learned who Amelia was.
It wasn’t right to hold off any longer. She steeled herself and turned.
“Imogen, I need to—” The words fell dead on her lips as she looked up into Imogen’s eyes.
Her warm, compassionate eyes that were now looking at Amelia like she was something to behold.
When was the last time someone had looked at her that way?
Imogen’s gaze flickered downward to her lips, and Amelia felt her breath catch in her chest. She watched, entranced, as Imogen delicately wet her own lips, the result too inviting to even try to resist.
She wasn’t sure who leaned in first, maybe it had been mutual, but they closed the gap in one smooth transition, and Amelia closed her eyes as the softest of lips touched hers.
The kiss was tentative at first, a soft caress like they were testing the waters.
But then Imogen gently stroked Amelia’s cheek with her fingertips, and her lips began to move slowly against her own.
The gentle, unhurried kiss was intoxicating—the tender movements, the taste of the wine still lingering, the peaceful soundtrack of only the wind and the sea in the background.
Amelia couldn’t get enough. She cupped her hand behind Imogen’s neck to pull her nearer still, and as their bodies pressed together more firmly, Imogen moaned the faintest of moans into her mouth.
The quiet sound was enough to set Amelia’s body on fire, like she had been on standby waiting for the slightest spark that would ignite the flames inside her.
Imogen was that spark. Amelia had known it since they’d met.
Imogen parted her lips, and Amelia pushed her tongue into her eagerly accepting mouth.
Their tongues tangled and caressed in the most sensual of ways, as the kiss seamlessly deepened from tender to hungry.
By the time they pulled apart—only by an inch or two—Amelia could feel that her lips were swollen, and her breaths were laboured.
Imogen looked at her with darkened eyes. “Okay, so you’re really good at that,” she whispered and leaned her forehead against Amelia’s.
Amelia smiled and ran her hands up the length of Imogen’s back, revelling in finally getting to touch her properly. “The charming insurer strikes again.”
Imogen breathed out a laugh. “I’m a bartender now, remember. The charm’s part of the package. But the fact still remains that you kiss like a goddess.”
Amelia leaned in close. “Maybe it’s more of a case that we kiss really well together.
” She felt Imogen smile as she pressed their lips together once again.
This time they kissed without a hint of their original shyness or trepidation, confident to explore each other’s mouths while their hands wandered freely over warm skin and soft fabric. They just about managed to keep it PG.
“What were you going to say before?” Imogen asked when they eventually broke for air again many, many minutes later.
Amelia rolled her lips in, savouring the taste of Imogen that remained. How could she possibly tell Imogen the truth in that moment? With Imogen still holding her in her arms and looking at her in that affectionate way? Amelia would ruin everything with a single sentence.
The stakes that had already felt so high had become insurmountable now that they had kissed like that.
There was something between them—something rare and special, and, most importantly, something real.
And living in a world that was plagued with insincerity and falseness, one where she had been scorned too many times, Amelia knew real when she saw it.
What was the harm in waiting a little while longer?
Allowing this to blossom some more? Amelia was still herself.
She shouldn’t have to be defined by her job when it was only one part of the whole person she was.
And Imogen hadn’t asked, so maybe that was a sign to wait.
The right time would come to talk to Imogen, to explain herself, but this wasn’t it.
“I was just going to ask when I can see you again?”