TWENTY
AMELIE
It had felt surreal, sitting on the floor of my old bedroom, staring at the bunk beds which Sophie and I used to share.
Not much had changed. That fusty smell was still there, although it was less overpowering than it had been.
The beds had been stripped, and the restraints that used to secure us to the bed were gone, but the clutter was there.
The police had left markers where I imagined photographs would have been taken as evidence of the conditions we lived in.
I hadn’t paid that much attention to the rest of the house; most of the stuff my parents had hoarded was in secured bin bags.
I also noticed the door to the cellar had been forced open, and I wondered what horrors awaited those brave enough to venture down there.
Would they have found our dog Max's rotten corpse, or had Adam just made that up to scare Sophie and me?
After offloading my past onto Kieran’s shoulders, I felt a sense of relief but also a profound level of anxiety about what was to come. Hadn’t we suffered enough? And now the entire school knew who we were.
As Kieran led me towards the car with his arm around my shoulders, I welcomed his strength.
It had felt like the time to tell him, and a weight had been lifted.
My sharing those sordid details of my past reminded me of the other secret I carried—the one about his mother.
I so wanted to tell him, but I knew it wasn’t my story to share.
I thought back to his comment about finding comfort when he was in pain by going to his mother’s grave.
On the drive back home, Kieran and I spoke about my parents and their forthcoming trial. He told me not to worry about school and that he would sort it. I did worry that he would be punished by association, but his popularity and position as king would thankfully ensure his crown wasn’t tarnished.
When we got to the house, Vanessa and Maisy were dressed up. They were going to an awards event that Cameron’s company was throwing. I had been asked if I wanted to go, but had declined.
I felt tired, grubby and tongue-tied as Kieran had explained a watered-down version of what had happened.
Something about being spooked by the fire alarm, he didn’t go into the details of my past, but I knew my aunt already had most of the details.
I didn’t miss Vanessa’s expression when Kieran explained that he’d look after me and not to worry.
She did offer to remain at home, but I managed a smile and told her to go.
Maisy looked so pretty in her peach dress, clutching her favourite bear.
Once they left the house, Kieran took my hand in his and led me upstairs.
“Have a shower, it will make you feel better,” he suggested as we walked towards the main bathroom.
I was so thankful for his company as he pushed open the door and motioned for me to go inside.
My entire body felt dirty after the impromptu visit to my old house, and I realised how much I didn’t miss it there.
In that moment of madness when I needed to run from the truth of my identity, I had run there to remind myself of where I came from.
But that didn’t define me as a person. Just like my father didn’t either.
The main bathroom was large with a huge walk-in shower, and I couldn’t wait to feel the water on my skin. I slowly started to undress as Kieran pulled down two large fluffy towels from the storage cupboard.
At the door, he turned to face me. “I’m sorry, Amelie. For everything you’ve been through. But you know you have a home here now, don’t you?”
I nodded, warmed by those words. “What am I going to do about school?”
“You leave that to me, OK. People won’t say shit to you. I’ve already put the message out there, and as for your parents' trial. We’ll face it together. All of us.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to hit my shower, and then I have a few calls to make. We could watch a movie later if you want. Order takeout?”
“Like a date?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.
His reply made my tummy twist with glee. “Yes. Like a date.”
And then I couldn’t let him go. The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
“Stay with me.”
Kieran turned back, his eyes searching my face, trying to read the sudden shift in the room. “What do you mean?”
“Stay with me,” I repeated, my voice steadier that time.
For the first time since I had known him, a faint flush crept up Kieran’s neck. I let out a soft breath, the tension breaking just enough for a small smile. “I don't bite.”
He mirrored my smile, the sudden warmth in his expression making him look entirely defenceless. “No, but I might,” he replied softly.
Kieran stepped back into the room, the click of the door closing behind him echoing in the quiet space. When he reached me, he didn't immediately start undressing; instead, he gently caught my wrists, stopping my hands at the button of my jeans. His palms were warm.
“You do understand where this will lead?
“I understand.”
His dark, whisky coloured eyes held mine, filled with a quiet, protective concern.
“Are you sure? You’ve had a massive shock today. We don't have to do this right now.”
The reminder of earlier made my heart ache, but looking at him, the panic dwindled.
“I'm more than sure. I don't want to be alone. We both need a shower... why not together?”
“And then?” he added with an arched brow.
“And then,” I confirmed. I didn’t need to say the words. We both knew where that evening was going.
My words dissolved the last of his hesitation.
He locked the door with a quick click, then pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Standing in front of him, the heat radiating off his skin drew me like a magnet.
I reached out, my fingertips lightly tracing the line of his stomach.
Kieran’s breath hitched, his muscles tightening instinctively under my touch.
“My turn,” Kieran whispered, his voice thick. His hands found the hem of my t-shirt, and he lifted it slowly, letting the fabric brush against my skin until it cleared my head.
The cool air hit me, and I watched his gaze drop. There was no smooth, rehearsed confidence in his expression—just a raw, quiet awe as he looked at my bared breasts, as I wore no bra. “Fuck, Amelie. You’re beautiful.”
My breath shifted as he cupped my breasts, his hands slightly rough but incredibly gentle. The weight of his palms and the friction of his thumbs tracing my nipples sent a shiver straight down my spine, washing away any second thoughts.
We stepped out of the rest of our clothes in a quiet, shifting dance of tangled denim and discarded fabric.
When he stood before me in just his boxers, the tension in the room was palpable.
The heavy silhouette of his penis pressed against the black material, and a sudden, nervous thrill fluttered in my stomach.
He didn't put on a show; he simply pushed the briefs down and kicked them away, stepping fully into the light. Looking down at his arousal, it was thick and beautifully built, the sharp lines of his hips framing him.
I reached out to touch him, driven by a sudden spike of curiosity, but his hand shot out, gently catching my wrist mid-air. His jaw was clenched, his expression almost pained. “If you touch me now, Amelie, this is going to be over before we even get wet.”
I let out a soft laugh, the vulnerability of his admission instantly easing my nerves. He released my wrist, his fingers trailing down to link with mine. “No pun intended, of course.”
“I suggest we both behave as we shower. I don’t want your first time to be in a bathroom,” he added, his voice dropping an octave as he looked down at me, “I want to fuck you in your bed.” Kieran paused to take in my reaction.
I knew he’d used the coarse word for sex to see if it unbalanced me, gave me doubts, but it didn’t.
It made me want him more. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, stepping closer until the heat of his chest brushed against mine. “Yes, I’m sure. I want you to be my first.”
That was the threshold. Kieran pulled me flush against his body, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was desperate, deep, and heavy with reassurance. Wrapping an arm securely around my waist, he guided me backwards, opening the glass door and pulling me into the enclosed warmth of the shower.
The first spray of hot water hit us, making us both gasp and laugh against each other's lips.
The steam enveloped us instantly. Everything became a blur of wet skin and heavy breathing.
Kieran poured a dollop of shampoo into his hands, his fingers massaging my scalp with a slow, deliberate care that made my eyes close in sheer relief.
As the water washed the soap away, running down our intertwined bodies, the trauma of the day finally went with it.
Once we were both clean, our bodies slightly pink from the heat of the spray, Kieran rubbed my body gently with a towel.
The damp cotton clung to my skin as I watched him work the towel over his shoulders, the hard lines of his back shifting with every pull. He seemed to take up all the air in the small bathroom, making my own breath feel shallow and quiet.
“Any second thoughts?” he asked, his voice low against the tile.
“None.” My voice was steadier than my pulse.
“OK. I need to get something. Go to your room, I’ll meet you there.” I loved his bossiness.
I nodded, my eyes tracking the heavy stride of his bare feet down the hallway. I knew exactly what he was going to fetch, and the sudden realisation made my stomach drop in a sharp spike of adrenaline.
The second my bedroom door closed, the calm facade broke. I kicked a pair of discarded jeans under the bed, grabbed a stray bra off the floor, and shoved it into the wardrobe. In the mirror, my reflection looked startled. Damp hair stuck to my neck, and a fierce, hot flush crept up my collarbone.