The First Taste(119)

I stare at him. Andrew watches me open and close my mouth. This is my weakness—other women. Unfaithfulness. I trust Andrew. Enough to ask what I want to know. It’s a step forward that I’d even be able to trust his answer. I pull my legs from his lap and sit cross-legged. “Did you sleep with her?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “No. I realize you think all men lead with their dicks, but some of us are capable of controlling ourselves.”

“But it wouldn’t have been cheating,” I say, picking at nothing on the couch. “We weren’t together.”

“I’m aware. No matter how potent Shana can be, it would never be enough to make me forget about what she did to Bell. And, as it turns out, she isn’t enough to make me forget about you.”

I bite my bottom lip. We’ve demanded communication from each other from the start. The simple act of sharing Shana’s attempts means more than I thought it would. I unfold my legs and crawl to him. He checks over his shoulder, presumably toward Bell’s bedroom, before pulling me into his arms. “With Shana, it was just lust,” he says. “I’m not in lust with you, Amelia.”

I glance up at him. “Is that a good thing?”

He kisses me on the tip of the nose. “Do you think I could’ve honestly stopped myself from coming to your apartment tonight? That I could’ve ever accepted that money to stay away? Do you really think I’m not falling in love with you too?”

I get a rush of adrenaline, as if I’m at the edge of a cliff, one toe over. Any fear I might have is hidden by excitement, though. I’m not going to fall. I’m jumping. “You are?”

He nods. “I am, but make no mistake—just because I’m not in lust with you doesn’t mean I’m not crazy horny too.”

I laugh. “You’re such a poet.”

He smiles. “Just keeping it real.” Andrew locks his lips with mine for a hard, steamroll of a kiss that takes my breath away. He explores my mouth with his tongue, sliding his hand up my waist over my breasts.

“What was that for?” I ask breathlessly when he slows down.

“I missed you,” he says. “I missed your confidence. Your humor. Your sexy red lips.”

I smile a little. “They’re not red tonight.”

He lets his gaze fall to my mouth. “Yeah, baby, they are.”

“Well, when you kiss me like that . . .”

“I missed other things too,” he says, lowering his voice, leaning into my ear. “Having you spread out on the bed, just for me. For my eyes, my hands.” As he speaks, he lifts my top, touches my stomach. “I want you.”

“I’m right here.”

“It’s not enough. I’ve never even had you in my bedroom. I want to undress you, stretch you out on my bed, fingertips to toes, your hair splayed on my pillow, and I want to take you over and over until you can’t handle it another second.”

I inhale sharply and turn to wrap my legs around his waist. “We can’t.”

“We can.”

We whisper like two teenagers trying not to get caught. He shoves his hand down the back of my pants, yanking me against him so my clit connects with his hardening cock. “Jesus,” we say in unison.

“It’s not allowed,” I protest. “Somebody has to be the adult here.”

He chuckles. “Believe me, what we’re about to do is reserved for adults only.”

As soon as it’s out of his mouth, a click sounds from the hallway. We detangle at lightning speed, jumping apart a second before Bell wanders into the room, rubbing her eyes. “Daddy?”

“Bell,” he says gruffly before clearing his throat. “Hey, baby. You have a bad dream?”

“No. I’m thirsty.”

Andrew runs a hand through his hair, side-eyeing me. I fix my top, tugging on the hem even though it’s in place.

Bell blinks a few times as she registers me. “Who are you?”

“It’s Amelia,” Andrew says. “Remember? From Aunt Sadie’s work?”

“’Mila.” She nods and yawns. “I’m thirsty, Dad.”

He half rolls his eyes. “All right, all right, I’m going.” He picks up our drinks and mouths “sorry” at me.

The man is at her beck and call, and I don’t blame him. She looks adorable enough to eat right now, half asleep, her hair a rat’s nest of tangles. Maybe I should be annoyed about getting interrupted, but I just want to pull her into my lap and pet her until she falls back asleep. It’s not an urge I’m used to having. Bell somehow manages to be both a vulnerable child and mini-adult, which fuels my curiosity.

She stumbles to the couch, flopping next to me like a rag doll. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

“I know.” I’m about to tell her that technically, it’s been her birthday for over an hour, but I can all too easily imagine how her excitement could lead to an all-nighter. As much as I like her, I also like my sleep. “Do you mind if I come to your party?”

She looks up at me again, blankly at first, and then recognition seems to dawn on her. “Are you my dad’s girlfriend?”

I open my mouth, half with surprise, half to respond. Nothing comes out but an awkward guffaw. “I’m his friend,” I say. “And I’m a girl.”