THE TEST WAS a cheek swab that Peyton slept through. Hunter gave his own sample and showed the nurse to the door.
“I’ll put her down and have a shower if you don’t mind,” Amelia said, still cradling the sleeping baby.
She was trying to avoid him and the proposition he’d put forth. Hunter could tell. Was she disappointed he hadn’t been more romantic about it? The hardware guy would have gone down on one knee and offered a diamond worth two months of his salary, he was sure, but what did that prove?
Their marrying made sense. He wanted to keep talking until she saw that, which was how he behaved in most business negotiations, but Amelia’s hollow cheeks suggested she was on her last nerve. He would have to give her a little time to process and come around to seeing the wisdom in it herself.
“Do you want something clean to wear? I think Vi left a dress here that might fit you.” He waved her to precede him up the stairs.
“Vi did,” Amelia said skeptically.
He bit back a sigh, not used to being disbelieved or having to make explanations for himself, but he could understand her suspicion that it belonged to Eden.
“Vienna was shopping and brought it up when she came for lunch. She wanted to try it on again because she thought she might return it, then she forgot it in the foyer. I left it upstairs for whenever she comes by again.” He veered into the other guest room to fetch the flat box with the embossed scroll of the boutique’s name.
When he came back to the room full of baby gear, Amelia was reading the back of an unopened baby monitor. Peyton was in the playpen, fast asleep, wrapped in a duck-print blanket snug as a tortilla around a burrito.
“I can figure out the monitor,” Hunter said, setting the box on the bed. “Helpful dad, remember?”
“This isn’t a reality show. I’m not going to marry you for TV ratings.” She handed him the monitor, though, and lifted the top off the box, peering at the dress.
“I’m not trying to portray myself as a better father than my own. I want to be better. You would still get a decent guy with a decent job.” Actually, his position was demanding as hell, but it had its perks—designer dresses like that, for instance. “Auntie Vienna will make cookies with her niece,” he added with a nod to Peyton. “Actually, they’ll probably finger paint. I realize that’s not the same, but it’s something. Uncle Remy would love to take her fishing with your dad.” In Martinique. Was she open to outright bribery? Because he could go on.
“We don’t even know each other. You didn’t want to get to know me,” she reminded him as bright red spots arrived on her cheekbones. Her voice quavered with degradation as she added, “It was a one-night hookup, and you tried to pay me.”
He recoiled as though she’d slapped him. “That’s not what happened.”
“Do you know what gaslighting is?” She scowled at him.
“You were upset, and I was trying to help.” He squeezed the back of his neck, still embarrassed at how that morning had gone. “You said—” He couldn’t remember what she’d said. Something about having to get home right away because her brother was reported as missing. He’d asked, “Do you need money?”
She had looked at him like that. Like he was the lowest form of life.
“I was trying to help. Money solves a lot of problems. I won’t apologize for being wealthy,” he stated. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been punished for it.
“Clearly it creates them, too,” she said sweetly. “Because I didn’t want anything to do with you after that. I still don’t.”
She walked into the bathroom and firmly closed the door.
It was one of the best showers of her life, damn him.
Amelia was feeling grotty and sweaty from a very tumultuous day, but was revitalized as the showerhead rained gently upon her face. The water was soothing and cleansing as it ran down her naked skin. Hotel-sized shampoo and other products were already in the bathroom, and they smelled amazing, producing bubbles that caressed her scalp and skin.
When she came out and moisturized with an equally delicious and fragrant lotion, she couldn’t bear to put on her stained T-shirt. She gave in and tried on the blue-and-yellow polka-dot summer dress that had supposedly been purchased by Vienna, not Eden. Either way, it still had the tags and—
“Good grief,” she muttered, eyes popping at the price.
It fit, though. Her bra straps showed beneath the tie straps and the bodice strained across her ample, padded breasts, but it would be easy to nurse in. The fall of soft cotton felt so lovely as it brushed her bare legs, she couldn’t bear to take it off.
It also gave her a little more confidence when she went downstairs to meet the exquisitely put-together Carina and the even more chic Unity, Vienna’s stylist.
Unity took Amelia’s measurements and finger-combed her hair and held a few fabric swatches against her skin, then promised, “I’ll pull some things together and come back in the morning.” Unity departed, and Amelia went to the lounge.
Carina looked up from her tablet and smiled.
“Baby still sleeping?”
Amelia nodded and set the monitor on the end table as she curled into the corner of the sofa across from Carina.
“Where’s Hunter?” Was she doing this alone? Amelia looked around.
“He promised me coffee, but the service in this place is terrible. Oh, you didn’t hear that.” Carina bit her lips in pretended chagrin as Hunter appeared from the kitchen.
“Tip better,” he suggested, setting a mug on the coffee table before seating himself next to Amelia.
Amelia looked at her nonexistent manicure and wished the sofa cushions would swallow her. The banter wasn’t flirty. It was more like the comfortable trashing between longtime colleagues, but it still seemed to exclude her.
“Okay, so...” Carina tapped her screen. “Hunter brought me up to speed on the fact that you’re considering marriage.”
Amelia glared at him. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“I said we’re talking about it,” he said mildly. “We are.”
“You are,” she muttered.
“Obviously, we’ll wait for the paternity results before making any announcements of that sort,” Carina said in a soothing tone. “In the short term, we don’t want anyone painting you as a home-wrecker. We’ll circle back to talking about your family, but first I need all your best qualities, volunteer work, any friends in high places who might be willing to offer a quote? This is not a time to be modest. Gossip rags will approach your neighbors and anyone else they can find who might talk about you.”
Amelia swallowed a thick lump of revulsion. Something touched her elbow and she snapped her head around as Hunter slid his fingertips down her bare arm, pulling goose bumps onto her skin before he captured her hand in his warm grip.
“It’s okay. That’s why we’re doing this. To counter that sort of thing.”
It was still awful, but she closed her hand around his. Clinging to his solidness made it a little easier to dredge up a few people who would say nice things about her. She made sure to mention that she tutored refugees online through a nonprofit organization, volunteering to help with their English as part of building her teaching résumé.
When Carina moved on to asking about past lovers, Amelia pulled her hand from Hunter’s and tangled her fingers together in her lap.
“There’s not much to tell. I dated in high school, but I had an overprotective brother so...” She shrugged wryly.
“I have one of those myself,” Carina said with amused empathy.
Amelia experienced a stab of envy because Carina still had hers.
“What about university? Anyone serious there?” Carina asked.
“Just one. Gareth Bedford. He was a TA on another course and, um, cheated on me so I don’t think he’ll come out and say rotten things about me.” She defensively slouched deeper into the corner of the sofa.
“You’d be surprised what people will say for their fifteen minutes of fame. When exactly did it end? Because speculation could emerge around Peyton’s paternity. These sorts of things can linger. We want to be very clear there’s no doubt.”
Amelia snorted. “I’d like to see him try claiming he was her father when we never even had sex. If anything, he’ll continue complaining about what a frigid prude I was.”
“Oof. I’m sorry he was a jackass. I’ve met a few of those as well.” She tapped her screen briefly. “Anyone else? Casual dates?”
“Like, coffee? What are they going to say about me? We traded notes from classes?” She shrugged. It had all been friendly, but benign.
“I’m not prying out of salacious interest, Amelia. This works best when we know who and what might come out to bite us.”
“Us,” Amelia repeated with a sniff of disdain.
“You,” Carina acknowledged, taking on a kinder tone. “I’m only saying that this works best if you tell me about any intimate partners of any gender who might be brought to light and used against you. Forewarned is forearmed.”
“I don’t have any.” She really wished she had stayed in bed this morning. To think, when Dad had come back and insisted on getting in the car, there had actually been a part of her that had latched on with enthusiasm to getting out of the house. She had thought the drive might be nice. Maybe they would pick up some sandwiches and eat them on the beach.
“Are we talking about the same thing?” Carina cocked her head, seeming perplexed. “Are you saying you’ve only slept with... Hunter?” Her voice rang with acute disbelief.
“I—” Amelia’s heart lurched as she realized how much she had exposed of herself.
She could feel Hunter drilling holes into the side of her face with his gaze. Her cheeks started to sizzle, and her chest grew tight.
“Yes.” Her voice cracked in the middle of the word.
“I see.” To her credit, Carina didn’t make a big deal of it, only said casually, “I’m not sure why you bothered with the paternity test, but it’s good to know it will come back as expected. Let’s talk about less favorable publicity. I haven’t had time for a deep dive online, but I saw something about your brother walking away from his job site—”
“That is not what happened!” Amelia cried, lurching forward on the sofa cushion.
She was already wound tight enough to break in half. Now tears crashed into the backs of her eyes. She was suddenly short of breath, teetering on the verge of falling apart.
The cushion sank beside her as Hunter slid his hip right up against hers. The warmth of his body seemed to encompass her as his arm came around her hunched shoulders and he tipped her into his chest.
“This topic will be handled with the absolute, utmost care, Carina.”
“Yes. Yes, it will,” Carina assured him gravely. She nodded slowly and swallowed before she offered a tight smile. “I’ll freshen my coffee and give you a minute, Amelia.”
“I don’t need a minute,” she lied as she pressed her face into the hollow of Hunter’s shoulder, but Carina was already gone and she was relieved. “I can talk about him,” she insisted, even as she crushed the fabric of his shirt in her fist. “It’s just been a really emotional day.”
“It has.” He shifted so she wasn’t twisted quite so hard. He scooped her legs across his and dragged her into his lap. Then he just held her, light fingers drawing circles against the back of her shoulder. His chin rested on her hair.
She was shaking with the effort to fight grief and sorrow and despair. She slid her arm around his neck and clung to him as she clung to her composure. Breathe, she reminded herself. Breathe and let the wave of grief come up as high as it needed. It would recede in its own time; she just had to endure it while it was on her and in her.
After about four breaths, she realized he was inhaling and exhaling with her, guiding hers to become slow and steady. She clenched her eyes, and a tear squeaked onto her lashes. She sniffed.
“This is what I should have done that morning,” he murmured, breath stirring the part in her hair. “I just wanted to help, Amelia. I swear that’s the only reason I said what I did.”
The money. If she hadn’t been so distraught, she might have knocked her fist into his shoulder, but this felt so comforting, that old bruise faded into a vague memory.
“I don’t want to cry,” she said with a frustrated pang in her voice. “That has never helped. Not once.”
“Stay right here as long as you need, then.” He smoothed her hair and continued to rub her back.
She could have stayed like this forever, but hiccuped a few sobs before getting hold of herself and climbing out of his lap.
“It’s okay. Tell her she can come back. I can do this.” She just had to step into the hard shell she had worn every time she had picked up the phone or sat down to write yet another email that had wound up being ignored.
Hunter rose and invited Carina back into the living room.
“I’m really sorry, Amelia,” Carina said as she retook her seat. “I thought— Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. You’ll tell me the truth and we’ll go from there.”
Amelia started from the beginning. Jasper had been working in northern Alberta for a company that specializes in rare earth metal exploration. He was dispatched to Chile, where he was surveilling for a new project.
“The last time I spoke with him, he was excited because he’d realized they could sift through tailings from hundreds of dams. It’s a greener endeavor than pit mining. The cost for the rights was dirt cheap, he said.” She smiled faintly at that remembered pun. “The soil had already been displaced, and once the rare earth metals were extracted, it could be moved to better locations than where it had been left by the dam projects. He saw it as win all around. A couple of weeks went by and the next thing we heard, the company said he walked away with his interpreter. But why would he? He wouldn’t. Something happened.”
“No ransom demands?” Hunter asked.
“No. And no body.” She clung to her elbows, still feeling so bewildered by this turn of events.
“Which company?” Hunter asked.
“REM-ex. Their HR manager told me—”
“I’ll speak to their CEO.” He pulled out his phone.
“Oh, good luck,” Amelia huffed. She’d never gotten higher than a letter from the operations manager for South America advising her that they considered the matter closed.
She expected Hunter to leave a message with a recording or, at best, some low-level receptionist. He had it on speaker and set it on the coffee table.
“Hunter!” The male voice boomed into the living room. “I’m not taking work calls, but if you’re on your honeymoon and want to meet up, we’re anchored off Mykonos.”
“I’m calling about Jasper Lindor, Orlin. You may have seen correspondence from his sister, Amelia?”
A pause, then, “Oh. Her. I’m familiar with the name, yes. Is she becoming a pain in your ass, too?”
“She’s the mother of my child,” Hunter said flatly. “Our marriage will bring her brother’s disappearance back into the spotlight. You’ll want better answers ready than the ones your people have been giving her.”
There was dumbfounded silence, then a curse and a resigned, “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Do,” Hunter commanded. He ended the call without saying goodbye.
One call. Amelia had made thousands and had written a million emails and gotten absolutely nowhere. Hunter had made one call and got the man on vacation and got him to promise something.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. Such a pressure grew in her chest, she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know if she was touched or outraged or hopeful or all of the above. Hopeful. Definitely hopeful. Her lips began to quiver. Her breath shook.
Hunter said to Carina, “Go check in with the team, see what you can get done with what you have so far.”
“Sure thing.” Carina flashed her a look as she quickly gathered her things and slipped away.
Amelia grabbed the tissue box like it was a lifeline and pulled some out. She jammed them against her running nose and brimming eyes.
“That’s not a quid pro quo,” Hunter said quietly. “I said we’re marrying because it will light the largest fire under him.”
“You’d think a man’s life would do that, but...” She used the heels of her palms to hold the balled tissues against her wet eyes.
She didn’t even care if Hunter had said it to blackmail her or make her feel beholden to him. She was beholden. She would marry him a dozen times over if it would give her the tiniest inkling of a clue as to what had happened to Jasper.
Apparently, he was right. Money could solve certain problems.
“Why—?” He cut himself off.
She blew her nose and dropped the tissues onto the table.
Hunter was looking toward the window, profile twisting with self-deprecation.
“What?” she prompted.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time?” His brows were bunched into a perplexed angle. When his gaze came back, it was filled with apprehensive concern, “Did I hurt you?”
“Not too much.”
He winced. “You should have said.”
“I thought you’d think I was a weirdo, never having done it. I was twenty-three,” she reminded him, and waved toward the elevator. “Did you see Carina’s face? She thinks I’m a total weirdo.”
“There’s nothing weird about being a virgin. You haven’t had sex and then you have. It’s weirder that we make such a big deal of it. On the other hand...” He studied her. “If someone is holding off, there’s usually a reason. Which makes me wonder, why that night? Why me?”
Her heart turned over in her chest. She buckled defensively over her folded arms, rocking slightly.
“This is a day when every single detail of my life has to be torn open and examined, isn’t it? Do you want to hear about the day my period started and Jasper had to buy me supplies? Spoiler alert, he also bought a cake mix. It fell after he baked it and iced it too soon. It was literally the ugliest cake ever made, but I ate so much of it I still can’t stand lemon-flavored desserts.”
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes down her temples. She clenched them shut.
“You don’t have to talk about this, Amelia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve never told anyone that, but it always makes me laugh when I think of it.” She was smiling through her tears. “That’s what he was trying to do, make me laugh. We’d lost Mom a few months before and he knew I really, really needed her that day.”
“You miss him a lot.”
“I really do.” She picked up her head and cleared the thickness from her throat, swiping one more tissue across her face and resolving she was finished breaking down. “He also put the fear of Jasper into any boy who looked twice at me, mostly because he’d been through a pregnancy scare himself.” She wrinkled her nose. “The girl actually went away with her aunt and only told him after she came back that it was all dealt with. She expected him to be relieved, but he was kind of messed up by it. Her body, her choice. He understood and supported that, but he was really adamant that if I was going to put myself in the position of having to make a choice like that, I should be serious about the guy. Not some random, you know?”
A harsh laugh cut from his throat.
“The irony, right?” She drew a pillow into her lap and hugged it. “When I started seeing Gareth, I explained that I wanted to go slow, that I needed to know we had a future before we had sex. He said he was fine with that, but whenever we fooled around, he was always pushing me to go all the way. He would pout when I made him stop, laying on a guilt trip. Some of that was my fault—”
“None of that was your fault,” Hunter interjected firmly.
She waggled her head. “You’re right. I know you’re right, but I always think I should have seen him more clearly. There were other issues. He was controlling, but in a subtle way so I couldn’t really argue with him. If I did, he would make me feel as though I was being petulant rather than standing up for myself. He wanted to tell me what to wear and who to talk to and what to say.”
“Is that how you feel with me? Because I convinced you to stay here?” He drew his head back as though bracing for an unpleasant answer.
“No.” She gave herself a moment to really consider the question, able to say truthfully, “I’m not thrilled that I feel stuck here, but you talked me into staying with facts, not manipulation. He always made it about him. He would say that if I genuinely loved him, I would want to make him happy. I knew I was putting too much pressure on myself to make my wedding night some big, romantic culmination, but I also didn’t like feeling pressured by him. Even so, I was starting to think about doing it so he would shut up about it.”
“That’s a terrible reason to have sex.”
“I know. Fortunately—I use that word loosely—a fellow student told me she was sleeping with him. She had just found out he and I were in a relationship and she was really sorry she had helped him be unfaithful to me, but she thought I would want to know. I did. I told him to kick rocks and he said it didn’t count as cheating. He said we weren’t really together since we hadn’t consummated our relationship, but also, that’s why he slept with her, because I wouldn’t satisfy him.”
“And you didn’t order a hit? There’s an app for that.” Hunter curled his lip in disgust.
“Under self-help, I know. I made an account, but didn’t go through with it.”
“Ha,” he barked. “At least you can laugh about it.”
He eyed her with something like admiration, making her tingle.
“I did at first, yes.” She brought her knees up and hugged them, resting her chin on top. “Then he spread rumors that I was frigid and uptight and whatever.”
“What a piece of work. What’s his name again? His Wi-Fi is going to become very spotty.”
“Appreciated.”
“Was it limited to campus, that gossip? Or online harassment, too?”
“Mostly on campus and it was embarrassing, but it wasn’t untrue. Mostly. It meant that only two kinds of men approached me after that. The ones who thought I was a challenge—I’d been there, done that and no thank you to the headache. The other types were also waiting for their wedding night. They were nice, but I never met anyone who intrigued me enough to consider marrying him purely to find out what all the fuss was about.”
Hunter had the one brow down again as he tried to make sense of all she had said and, perhaps, the things that she hadn’t.
“Then I met you and you made me want to know what the fuss was about.” She lifted a defensive shoulder. “You were open about it being only one night, which was refreshing honesty. I didn’t know when I would meet someone else who made me feel like that, so I let it happen. And even though we ended on a sour note...”
His somber gaze reiterated that it had been a misunderstanding, not a payoff.
“I didn’t regret it. I kind of thought, at least I had that one happy memory before we lost Jasper. Then I got pregnant, which made me feel like a world-class idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. From what I’ve been told, sex is the leading cause of pregnancy. We both took the risk, and here we are. You still could have told me it was your first time, though.”
“Then I would have had to tell you all of that and we only had the one night, Hunter. I wanted to get to the good part.”
“Oh.” He smirked. “Same.” He studied her, expression sobering. “Was it good? Worth the wait?”
She was dying, curled up as small as she could get, holding in not just self-consciousness, but that odd mix of excitement and sweetness and joy and unfettered lust that had exploded between them. It had been a good memory, one she had clung to through a lot of bad. One that made her daughter a precious gift.
“How would I know?” she asked wryly. “I had nothing to compare it to. You tell me.” A hard, stinging blush heated her cheeks. Yes, she was fishing for a compliment. Some sign that it had meant something to him.
“I thought you were amazing,” he said, voice pitched one note lower than usual. Shadows of conflict chased across his expression.
“Then why—” Her voice cracked, and she averted her face, not wanting him to see how badly she’d yearned for more from him. For some tiny sign that she had not been used and discarded.
He sighed. “I was in the middle of that mess with Irina. That’s why Remy insisted I needed a weekend away. I didn’t have the bandwidth for a relationship, especially one long distance. And...” He winced. “Vienna had already been nagging me to meet Eden.”
“And you already knew she was more suited to you than a waitress who owed more than she owned. I get it.” She nodded, devastated, but not surprised.
“Amelia.”
“It’s true. And you need to think about that before you spout off to Carina that we’re getting married,” she hurried to add. “It’s one thing for me to privately feel that I’m not good enough for you. It is quite another for you to put me on the front page so everyone else can think it, too.”
“Stop it,” he said curtly.
“Don’t pretend it’s not true, Hunter! What would I bring to a marriage that even comes close to what Eden offered you?”
“Our daughter,” he said sternly. “She outweighs all other considerations. She’s the reason I’m not married to Eden right now.”
“Listen to yourself!” She shot to her feet and took a few agitated steps away before she whirled on him. “You walked away from your wedding for Peyton. Not for me. I’ve said I’ll work with you to have access. That doesn’t mean we have to get married. What would I bring to our marriage besides potential for another child? Because this isn’t Victorian England, Hunter. I need to be wanted for something more than my fertility. We don’t love each other—which you’ve made clear isn’t something you want—so what do I have that you want?”
He started to speak, clacked his teeth together, then abruptly shot to his feet and walked away in the other direction. “Sex. All right?”
She choked out a laugh and waved a helpless hand. “You can get sex from anyone. If that’s all you wanted, you should have married Eden. You could be having sex right now.”
“I don’t want sex with her. I want sex with you.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, leaving it mussed. “I had to tell you not to text me. I was engaged. But if I hadn’t been—”
Her ears strained to hear the rest. She actually took a few steps closer, trying to catch whatever he might say. Trying to see his expression behind the troubled hand that scrubbed across it.
“What?” she prompted.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Amelia.” He dropped his arm to his side, the movement so heavy, it was as if he dropped a broadsword to the ground.
“Really?” She hugged herself. She wasn’t even who she had always planned to become. That woman who was gainfully employed and living independently and confident in herself was far in the distance. She was still a stumbling, scuffed version of her. She was on her feet, but she was far behind where she wanted to be.
And that woman couldn’t touch the Edens of the world—the ones with more than an education. A family name and a seat at the head of a corporate table and so many big-name friends, Amelia would have been starstruck today if she hadn’t been the one in the spotlight.
“I want to ask how you could doubt it when that night was so fantastic, but...”
A humorless rasp sounded in his throat as he came toward her. His light touch grazed her elbows, thumbs sending goose bumps up her arms and down into her chest by barely caressing her biceps.
“I don’t do that, you know. Pick up women. I wanted to believe I was blowing off steam, but even when it was happening, I knew it was more than that.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know.” His hands continued to caress her arms and shoulders, making her shake. “But I’d like to find out.” His chin dipped so they were eye to eye. “Wouldn’t you?”
In what she had thought were very twisted, messed-up fantasies, yes. She had longed to see him again and had felt wretched for it, as if she were that easily taken in again by a man who only wanted one thing.
That uncertainty still pulsed within her like an electric fence, keeping her holding a part of herself at a distance, but another part—the physical connection that had unraveled her that night—unfolded her arms and shifted her feet closer to his. She set light hands on his chest and felt herself nod jerkily. Her searching gaze slid from the stormy ocean of his irises and landed on his mouth.
Look at that beautiful mouth. That uncompromising bottom lip held a stern line as he brought it down on hers and consumed her.
A jolt, a savage blast of need, swirled around her, catching her up in a claw of acute passion. Maybe that was his arms closing around her, claiming her while he gently yet thoroughly ravished her mouth.
Had she expected some hesitant reunion? Not from Hunter. His confidence and his undisguised desire for her had drawn her last July. When he had looked at her, it hadn’t been in a way that suggested she was a potential conquest. There’d been curiosity and heat and that wonderful control that said, I want you, but I won’t take you. You have to give yourself to me.
Nothing and no one else made her feel like this. Hunter’s embrace was unbreakable, but who would want to get away? She wanted to be closer and twined her arms around his neck, one hand splaying in his short hair so she could press him to kiss her harder. Devour me. Make me yours. Forever.
Now.
A noise that didn’t make sense caused Amelia to gasp and shove her hands against Hunter’s shoulders, pressing him to let her go.
He had to consciously tell himself how to do that, because he’d fallen into a purely animalistic state that wanted to hold on to her for the duration of whatever was about to happen between them.
That noise was Peyton. Her cries were coming through the monitor.
As Amelia hurried away, Hunter bit back a groan that was both pain and relief. Pain because he was so aroused by their kiss, the denial of stopping physically hurt.
He was glad it hadn’t gone further than that kiss, though. He had already revealed too much of himself. Too much hunger and—no. He refused to call it a need.
He couldn’t believe he had confessed to all of that. It was lowering and left him feeling vulnerable that she knew how much he had craved another encounter with her. That night of theirs had kept talons in him for all these weeks and months since. He’d been thinking of her when he had finally given in to Vienna’s prodding and asked Eden to dinner. His mind had been split between the past and the present when he proposed. From the moment his ring had gone onto Eden’s finger, he had fought to forget a single night with a waitress he was convinced he would never see again.
Then she had reached out in November.
The temptation to say more than he had, to bring her closer rather than push her away, had been acute.
The very fact that he would think it, while engaged and moving down a far more sensible life path, had told him that Amelia was becoming the sort of obsession for him that Irina had been for his father. The same sort of weakness.
He had feared she would upend his life if he wasn’t very, very careful, so he had told her he was committed elsewhere.
Don’t text me again.
She hadn’t.
That should have allowed him to put her firmly in the past, but it hadn’t. The moment the first rows of grapes had appeared as he’d driven into the vineyard this morning, his libido had come alive with memories of sexual heat and shy touches and greedy lips and passionate cries. With the feel of her soft skin against his nude frame as he stretched awake.
That last, intensely satisfying tumble had been the hook. His orgasm-drugged mind had begun rearranging his world so he could bring her into it. He clearly remembered his sense of entitlement. Why not? He had mentally brushed aside duty and the importance of meetings with lawyers. He was a powerful man. The boss. He could do what he wanted. He could have what he wanted. He worked hard and deserved to have what he wanted. He wanted Amelia.
Into that slumberous arrogance, she’d picked up her phone and released a torn cry. Minutes later, she had dressed and left with that final, wounded look.
And she’d been a virgin that night?
He pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to comprehend how he’d missed that salient detail. She’d been bashful, obviously feeling awkward, but the first time with any lover was always a little awkward. He hadn’t thought anything of the nervous laughs and hesitant touches.
No, he remembered her passion. She might have been unschooled in the way she touched him, but her small gasps and moans and the way she had clung to him had told him she liked the way he touched her. That had turned him on like nothing else could. Her first climax had been against his hand, and her abandonment had almost taken him over the edge with her.
Maybe he should have realized her lack of experience when she had apologized for peaking so unexpectedly.
He recalled chuckling hoarsely, bemused, so horny he’d thought he would combust.
Had he rushed her at that point? He always wore a condom, always asked. She had said yes, she wanted him inside her, but he’d been aware of her tension as he pressed into her.
He’d thought maybe she wasn’t as aroused as he was, having just climaxed, so he had paused and slid his touch between them, nearly losing it again when he found her dewy and taut. Her breaths had shortened as he teased her. She had clenched around his tip and her knee had come to his ribs and she had opened her mouth against his neck. Her moan of need had sent a vibration through his blood, straight to where he was penetrating her.
Slowly, slowly, he sank all the way in. It had been heaven and hell to hold himself still, hold back. He wanted to let loose, yet wanted it to last. Her arms had twined around his neck and she’d released a shaken sigh, pressing a tremulous smile to the corner of his mouth.
That was the moment he should have realized it was her first time, but his mind had been fixated on the feel of her. His pulse had hammered in his ears, and his breath had been fire. They had started kissing and he began thrusting and she moved with him in perfect synchronicity. Her hands had been in his hair and across his shoulders and danced across his spine. Her legs had hugged him; her heels had been in his buttocks, encouraging him.
Pure torture and absolute paradise. His whole body had been a tense line of delicious self-denial, but he was determined to last for her. It had been hard not to give in to the pleasure crashing like waves over him, so hard the effort knotted his breath. The tingles of culmination had been gathering in his tailbone when her ragged breaths had become sobs of desperation.
Come, he had ordered roughly, as if he had the power to command it.
She had. Her inner muscles had clamped around him and released into the fluttering contractions that tripped his own powerful release. He’d nearly been ripped in half by the force of it. And loved it.
He ran his hand down his face, finding himself back in his Toronto penthouse with a rattled shake of his head. He was hard. Muscle memory, he thought ironically. He remembered every millisecond of their lovemaking, because he still replayed it in his highlight reel. She was his highlight reel.
She was his weakness, exactly as Irina had been for his father. Had he already forgotten that Amelia had ruined his life today?
On the baby monitor, he could hear her cooing to Peyton, laughing softly.
“How can you be hungry again? Okay, okay. Don’t panic. I’m right here.” Her voice faded as she moved away from the monitor, but he still heard her as she murmured, “So demanding. I wonder where you get that from?”
There was only amused indulgence in her voice, though. She loved their daughter without reserve. Did she really think that wasn’t something he required in his marriage? Her capacity for loyalty toward family had tremendous value to him.
They had to marry. He still saw no other course of action that accomplished as many goals in one swoop, but he would have to be mindful of how easily she could influence him.
He would have to hold her at arm’s length even when he was buried deep inside her.
Amelia had the fearful sense that if her daughter hadn’t woken, she would be courting another pregnancy right now.
She gently smoothed her daughter’s fine hair, thinking she would happily have a dozen more of his babies. This one was so lovably perfect, it was ridiculous.
Amelia was genuinely scared for Peyton, though. Hunter’s world was as dangerous as it was luxurious. As she pulled her mind out of sexy kisses and back to everything Carina had said, she knew that marriage was the only way to spin their affair to keep Peyton from being crushed by the fallout.
Lust and a baby were not the strongest pillars on which to forge a marriage, though. The sort of marriage she had always seen for herself had been built on love and respect and liking. Friendship. Equality.
She didn’t have any of those things from Hunter. Even his respect for her must be a thin version of it, given how she had forced this one-eighty on his life plan. Equality? Pah!
She drew the bodice of Vienna’s dress back into place and shook out a fresh receiving blanket from the package of a dozen.
This was Peyton’s life, she acknowledged as she gently swaddled her. Money wasn’t everything, but it was something. Plus, as someone who had lost a parent, she knew the value in having a good relationship with the one who survived. She had to marry Hunter, for Peyton’s sake. She knew that.
And she wanted to marry him. For her own sake. For the sex.
She clenched her eyes shut as she admitted it to herself. That kiss had been the same wild magic as their night last July. It was wonderfully exciting and dangerously disturbing. He made her feel weak. Helpless to herself and to him.
He made her want things he wasn’t likely to give her, which made her deeply afraid their marriage wouldn’t last.
Maybe she was best thinking of it as a continuation of their affair, one that would be a little messier to end than most.
Cradling her daughter against her shoulder, she found him downstairs taking the dishes from the living room to the kitchen.
“Everything all right?” he asked with a flicker of his gaze from her tense expression to the firm grip she had on their daughter.
“Sure. I’m dandy as hell. You?”
“Point taken.” He set the dishes in the sink.
“Look. I know we have to get married,” she began carefully.
He turned and leaned on the counter, arms folded across his wide chest. His expression was an absolute study in poker faces.
“Peyton needs your protection. I suppose I do, too.” She chewed her lip, feeling hollow as she spoke of marriage so clinically, rather than with the excitement she had always anticipated she would feel. “It goes against everything I believe in to marry expecting to divorce, but that’s what I think will happen.”
“That’s the spirit,” he drawled. “Positive thinking is the secret to success.”
“Do you think we have what it takes to go the distance?” she scoffed.
“I’m pretty stubborn when I set my mind to something.”
“Like running a marathon even if it makes you vomit? That’s the spirit,” she mocked.
“We’ll have a prenup,” he said as if that was obvious. “If we divorce, it will be very civilized. I’ll make sure of it.”
That was the spirit she expected from him, she thought dourly.
“I don’t care about your money. I need you to believe that. But I am concerned about what my life will look like.”
“Finish school. Teach if you want to.” He shrugged that off.
“I was worrying more about whether we would have more kids. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not right away. I’m not ready to be pregnant again anyway. But I’ll go on the pill or something. Obviously, condoms don’t work for us.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” He pushed off the counter, all dynamic motion as he started back to the living room. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”