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Without a word, I run my hand up her silky-smooth inner thigh and slide a finger inside her. As I suspected, she’s soaking wet. I pull my finger out and make her lick it clean.
“That,” I say, watching her intently, “is how I know you liked it.”
Her answering blush is absolutely adorable. We’ve been naked together since I first got her into this bed, and we’ve made each other come so many times I’ve lost count. Yet she is still so easily embarrassed. The big advantage of her being inexperienced is that I get to teach her so many new things.
“I kind of did, and that weirds me out,” she says, biting on her plump lower lip. “Am I some kind of masochist? Will I be joining a sex club and needing a safe word next?”
I laugh and pull her back in for a cuddle. Jesus fuck. I’m not only cuddling, I’m loving every second of it. She really has broken me.
Or maybe, I think, she’s fixed me.
“Not unless you want to, baby,” I say, kissing her head. “In which case, yeah, of course. I happen to know a few places.”
“I bet you do. You’re the kind of man that knows places.”
She sounds a little forlorn, and I tilt her chin up so she’s looking me in the eyes. I want her to see me when I say this. “Amelia, I have a past. Like you say, I know places. But please don’t let any of that make you feel worth less than you are.”
“What am I worth?”
“Right now?” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Absolutely fucking everything.”
Her smile reaches her eyes, and I realize I’m telling the absolute truth. I would pay a million bucks just to see that look on her face. She strokes my chest, tracing the shape of my pecs and grinning. My girl is insatiable, and I love that about her.
“Okay, so I have to talk to you about something,” she says, and my stomach knots.
I hate conversations that start like that. “Go for it.”
“Who was your mystery date?”
My mystery date? What is she talking about? She looks up at me, disappointed at my silence. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” she adds, though her tone implies it very much isn’t.
“Baby, I’m happy to talk about it, but I genuinely don’t have a clue who you’re referring to.”
She leans up on one arm, and her breasts beg me for attention. No. I need to concentrate. Amelia is an amazing woman, but she’s still a woman, and I recognize a conversational minefield when I stumble into one. One false move and my nutsack could get blown off.
“The night of the team-building thing at the hotel.”
I grin at her. “The night you got shit-faced with half of accounting and danced to Salt-N-Pepa on a pool table?”
“Yeah, that night. The same night you went out on a date. I’m asking you to tell me about it, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine.” The way she says “fine” implies the exact opposite.
I cast my mind back to that particular day and grin when the lightbulb moment happens. “Oh! Right. That wasn’t a date. That was Sapphire.” She frowns and doesn’t seem at all satisfied with my answer. “Sapphire is a friend, nothing more.”
“But when you left, Nathan said to have a good date.”
“Uh, first of all, creepy, but second, he was just joking. Sapphire was his friend first, from college, and he always jokes that I stole his date. She really is just a friend, baby.”
As much as I hate her doubting herself and doubting me, I like the fact that she’s jealous. Compared to how I reacted when she went out for a meal with the asshole from accounting, she’s downright restrained.
“I saw a picture of you with her online,” she says, looking uncomfortable. “I wasn’t stalking you or anything. Well, maybe a little. But you were with her after some premiere on Broadway, and she was all over you.”
I press a kiss on her forehead. “I get my picture taken a lot, Amelia, you know that. I don’t especially enjoy it, but it’s part of my work and part of my life. And believe me when I tell you I wasn’t going out on a date that night. All I could think about was you. Plus, I am very much not Sapphire’s type.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. I mean, look at you—you’re a walking sex god.”
Her eyes rake over my body, and I enjoy the appreciation. “Thanks for that, but I’m definitely not Sapphire’s type. You see, I don’t have a vagina, and she likes vaginas. A lot.”
I laugh as Amelia’s eyes pop open and her hand flies up to cover her gaping mouth. “Oh! So Sapphire’s a lesbian? Is she single? Because she’s exactly my friend Kimmy’s type.”