And there she is.
Amelia.
A silky black robe hangs loose over her shoulders, barely tied at the waist, gaping just enough to show the curve of her bare chest—no bra—and those black panties that nearly derailed my entire night. She didn’t even try to fix her tousled hair, and that only makes it more alluring.
“About time,” she teases, her voice low, dripping with heat.
“Yeah?” I breathe and step in close—but she doesn’t even flinch.
“Yeah.”
That’s all I need.
In one quick motion, I grab her by the waist, and before she can even react, I throw her up and over my shoulder.
“Ash!” she yelps, laughing as her hands smack against my back, but there isn’t a hint of protest in her voice.
“Shouldn’t have sent that photo if you didn’t want consequences,” I shoot back, giving that perfect ass of hers a smack and tightening my grip as her legs kick once in fake protest.
Her laugh is sharp and breathless. I kick the door shut behind me with my boot, the heavy slam echoing through the house.
“You’re ridiculous,” she huffs out against my back, but I can feel her smile against me.
“And you’re dangerous,” I mutter, already heading for her bedroom.
The room is quiet now, thick with the heavy warmth of the night. The only sound is Amelia’s soft breathing, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she lies curled against me, her headresting on my bare chest. My fingers drift through her hair, slow and lazy, tracing little patterns as I try to steady my heart.
Her skin is still warm, flushed from everything we just did—everything—and I can still feel the echo of it all, that perfect, bone-deep kind of exhaustion that comes after… well, that.
But the high is fading, and something heavier is creeping in.
Dad’s words from a few days ago keep circling in my head, refusing to let me drift off.
“Enjoy the ride… but know when it’s time to stop floating and figure out where you’re actually headed.” Those words kept playing over in a loop; he had said it on one of the late-night calls we had with one another.
It felt like classic Dad wisdom—vague but annoyingly right. But now? Lying here with Amelia soft and content against me, it feels like a neon sign flashing in my brain.
I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of it all settling in my chest.
I need to say something.
About us.
Because this—she—isn’t just a fling. It hasn’t been for a long time, even if neither of us has said it out loud. But the words feel too big, too heavy, and my throat is dry just thinking about how to start.
She shifts slightly, her fingertips brushing over my ribs, lazy and aimless, but it jolts me back into the moment.
“Hey,” I murmur, my voice rough.
“Mmm?” she replies, not bothering to lift her head.
I hesitate, fingers still threading through her hair.
“You ever think about… where this is going?” I wince at how awkward that came out, and my heart thuds harder now for a whole different reason.
She stills against me for a beat, then tilts her head up, her chin resting on my chest as her eyes find mine—soft, curious, not nearly as freaked out as I feel.
“Sometimes,” she admits, her voice quieter now. “You?”
