TWELVE
AMELIE
"Can I sleep with you?"
The words hung in the air, like a dangerous slip of the tongue. Please, can I sleep in here with you? That would have been so much better.
Use your head, Amelie!
My heart hammered against my rib cage, heavy and frantic. I was desperate to feel his body close to mine again. Kieran was now sitting up and was watching me warily over one solid shoulder.
When his body had been pressed flush against mine, pinning me to the mattress, his strength and the differences in our size had been a sudden, dizzying reality.
I liked the closeness between us, welcomed it with every fibre of my being.
When his lips brushed mine—barely a whisper of contact—a sharp spike of warmth pooled low in my belly.
I squeezed my thighs together to numb the ache.
But why was I trying to stop it when it felt that good?
Because you’re so far out of your comfort zone, you don’t know what’s going on.
I tried to blame the sheer novelty of it. I had never been this close to a boy before. Well, not since the night Kieran had tackled me to the floor. But this was entirely different. This time we were in bed. Together. Alone. No sign of his brother Lincoln, bursting through the door to ruin—
Wait. What was I saying?
The ridiculous thought vanished the moment the mattress dipped. Kieran turned back toward me, and instinctively, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. The instant his eyes found mine, my breath hitched. Moonlight seeped through the window, silver and cold, outlining every hard angle of his face.
I took a settling breath. Outside, the storm was beginning to retreat, but distant thunder still rolled across the hills like a warning.
Kieran scrubbed a hand over his jaw, his gaze dragging slowly over me.
“Do you know what you look like right now?” My pulse stumbled. I couldn't answer. Couldn't even look away. “You look like a lamb wandering into a wolf's den.”
The words struck harder than they should have. Heat flared in my cheeks. Instantly defensive, I swung my legs toward the edge of the bed.
“I should go.”
“No.” The response came too fast. Before my feet met the floor, Kieran's hand closed around my thigh. Not rough. Not gentle, either. Certain. The contact rooted me in place.
My eyes dropped to where his tanned hand rested against my pale skin before lifting slowly back to his face. “No?” I repeated.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, turning everything white for a split second. The noise made my shoulders tense as I shifted back towards him. Then darkness swallowed us again as rain hammered against the windows, loud enough to drown out my heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Kieran glanced away toward the storm. When he finally looked back at me, something had changed. His expression was unreadable. Dangerously so. “Please, don’t go,” he said quietly.
The words settled between us. Kieran’s grip loosened, though he didn't move away. He came closer, beckoning me towards the centre of the bed so we faced each other again.
“You can stay. But we need rules.”
I swallowed. “Okay.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “First rule. Get back under the covers. You're freezing.” He yanked at the duvet I was sitting on. The one that he was half beneath.
I lifted my hips so he could pull the covers down. The goosebumps racing across my skin had very little to do with feeling cold.
Neither of us spoke as we settled beneath the blankets and he adjusted the sheets around us. The bed was enormous. It shouldn't have felt crowded. Yet somehow, with only a few inches separating us, the space seemed to shrink.
Kieran rolled onto his side and propped his head on one hand. His shoulder brushed mine. The contact was brief. Accidental, but it still sent a jolt through me.
“Rule number two,” he said. “You stay on your side.”
“That's a rule?” I said, cutting him a look.
“It's a very important rule if you want to leave this bed the same way you entered it.”
I frowned. What the heck did that mean?
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Trust me.” Something in his voice made my stomach tighten.
Outside, thunder rumbled again. “Third,” he continued, “when the storm passes, you go back to your own room. Quietly.”
“Why?”
“Because if anyone sees you leaving my bedroom in the morning, they'll assume the worst.”
My eyebrows rose. “They will?”
Kieran stared at me for a long moment. Then he laughed once—a short, disbelieving sound. “You really are that innocent.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, his gaze holding mine, “fuck, you have absolutely no idea, do you? Go to sleep, Amelie.”
The air seemed to thicken.
I rolled onto my back, dragging the duvet all the way to my chin, staring fixedly at a crack across the ceiling to avoid his eyes. “I get it. They’ll think you’ve had your wicked way with me?”
Another low chuckle vibrated through the mattress. “Something like that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, highly aware of his masculine warmth beside me. I had a feeling his definition of 'wicked' was a hell of a lot racier than mine.
The tension that had filled the room earlier slowly began to unravel as I settled deeper into Kieran's bed.
For the first time all evening, I let myself think about something other than the storm.
I wondered what Jessa would say if she knew where I was.
The thought almost made me smile. Then my mind drifted to Adam and the pool house.
If he agreed to stay with the Rooks, it would be one less thing to worry about.
One piece of my fractured life would click into place, and then I could concentrate on Sophie.
Always Sophie.
Her foster mother had sounded kind enough on the phone, but that didn't change the truth. Sophie belonged with her family. She belonged with me.
The problem was that wanting something and being able to make it happen were two very different things. I had learned that the hard way through my parents.
I stared up into the darkness. How was I supposed to finish school, build a future, and take care of my little sister all at once? The weight of it settled heavily on my chest. Beside me, the mattress shifted.
Kieran.
His breathing had deepened, slow and steady. For a moment, I thought he'd fallen asleep. The sheets smelled of him, and I enjoyed how they felt against my skin. His bed was also much harder than the one in my room, which would make it easier for me to settle.
Outside, the storm had finally begun to retreat. The thunder was distant now, fading into the distance. Yet somehow, I still couldn't relax. Rolling onto my side, I found myself staring at the broad outline of Kieran's tanned back.
My pulse quickened.
“Kieran,” I whispered. “Are you awake?” His shoulders flexed.
“I am now.”
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He turned toward me, and the moon chose that moment to break through the clouds, highlighting his face. Kieran’s eyes found mine immediately, and the look in them made my stomach flutter.
“What's wrong?” he asked quietly. “The storm has almost gone. You’re safe.”
I hesitated. Then the question escaped before I could stop it. “Do you think I'm pretty?”
Silence.
Kieran blinked. For a second, he looked genuinely caught off guard.
“You got me into bed, didn't you?” he said. There was amusement in his voice.
Normally, I would have rolled my eyes. Instead, I held his gaze.
“No. Be serious.” Something then changed in his expression. Slowly, he pushed himself up on one elbow again.
His eyes searched mine. “Yes.”
The answer landed like a stone in still water. My heartbeat instantly doubled. “Yes?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Don’t sound so surprised. Yes.” The smile disappeared just as quickly. “Extremely pretty, actually.” Heat rushed to my face. “And that's exactly why this isn't a great situation.”
My breath caught at those words as he rolled his shoulders. “Because you want to kiss me?” The words hung in the darkness.
Kieran stared at me for several seconds. Long enough for me to regret asking.
“Maybe.”
My pulse skipped. “Maybe?”
His jaw tightened. “Amelie.” The way he said my name sent a shiver through me.
“What?”
His gaze flickered briefly away before returning to mine. “Because I think you're underestimating how complicated it would be if I did put my mouth on you.”
My body shivered at his choice of words as heat crashed through my pelvis. I shifted beneath the blankets, suddenly hyperaware of how close we were.
“Why? Because of who my father is?”
For a moment, he didn't answer. The moonlight caught the sharp line of his cheekbone. When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher. “No. Because I don't think I'd stop at one kiss.”
The honesty of that comment stole the air from my lungs. Despite the warning, I didn't feel afraid. Not even a little. I trusted him. Completely.
“I've never been kissed, you know,” I admitted shyly. The confession sounded embarrassingly small in the darkness. Kieran's expression softened.
“Never? Not even a peck?”
I shook my head. “Kind of sad for a seventeen-year-old, isn't it?”
“It’s fine.” His answer came back immediately. “You've lived a sheltered life. That's all.”
Something about the gentleness in his voice made my chest ache. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke, and the room felt impossibly quiet. Then Kieran's gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
His expression darkened, and his tone was a warning in itself. “Amelie.”
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. “What?”
His laugh was low and humourless. “You really need to stop looking at me like that.”
I swallowed. “Like what?”
“Like you're trying to talk me into making a bad decision,” he explained with a raised eyebrow.
Gosh, he was so sinfully attractive. The memory of him with the pretty black girl attempted to creep into my head and ruin the moment, but I pushed that aside.
I processed his words, and they sent another rush of warmth through me. Neither of us looked away.