Page 25 of Embers in Autumn

Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly. Surprise flickered across her face, sharp enough to twist my gut. For one terrifying heartbeat—hell, maybe a hundred—she didn’t say anything.

And in that silence, a million thoughts tore through my head. Too soon. She’s not ready. You’ve scared her off. She’ll walk out like the others did.

I forced myself to hold her gaze, every muscle in my body wound tight.

Then she smiled. Soft, genuine, her cheeks flushing pink. “I would love to.”

Relief crashed through me so hard I nearly laughed out loud. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, unclenching the fist I hadn’t realized I’d made. “Good,” I said, my grin tugging wider than I could control. “Really good.”

She tilted her head, curiosity lighting her expression. “Who’s going to be there?”

“My sister, her husband, the kids,” I said. “And my dad. He’s flying up for the week.”

“What does he do?” she asked, sipping her wine.

“He used to be a stock broker,” I explained. “Retired now, living down in Florida. Spends more time golfing than anything else these days.”

Amber smiled, her eyes softening. “Sounds like he earned it.”

“Maybe,” I said with a chuckle. “He’s still got a mean swing though. You’ll see.”

The words slipped out easy, natural, like it was already a given she’d be there.

The air between us shifted after she said yes. Not tense, not awkward. Just… charged. Like something unspoken hung in the candlelight with us, daring one of us to reach for it.

Amber set her wine glass down, fingers lingering on the stem. Her hazel eyes caught mine again, softer now, curious, but guarded in that way she always was when she wasn’t sure if it was safe to want something.

“Dean,” she said quietly, “you didn’t have to invite me, you know. Thanksgiving is—”

“Exactly where I want you,” I cut in, my voice low. I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Sitting next to me. Meeting my family. Being part of my world.”

Her breath hitched, just enough for me to notice. That wall she carried in her eyes cracked a little more, and I wanted to tear it down brick by brick.

“Besides,” I added with a smirk, “I didn’t spend all afternoon pretending I know how to make roast dinner just for a thank you. I want more.”

She laughed, shaking her head, the sound nervous but sweet. “You’re terrible.”

I pushed my chair back, the scrape of it loud in the quiet room, and rounded the table. When I reached her, I braced my hands on the chair arms, leaning down until my mouth hovered over hers.

“No,” I murmured, letting my lips brush her cheek. “I’m starving.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting just as I kissed her—deep, hungry, all the restraint I’d been holding since she walked in wearing that damn dress and hat shattering in an instant. She gasped against me, and I swallowed it, tasting wine and her in equal measure.

When she finally broke for breath, I caught her lower lip between my teeth, tugging until she let out the faintest whimper.

“Fuck, Amber,” I groaned, my forehead pressing to hers. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her hands slid into my shirt, fingers fisting in the fabric, pulling me down until she kissed me again, harder this time. I let her lead, let her pour out whatever she was holding back, until the sound of her chair tipping nearly made us both laugh.

“Bed?” she whispered, her voice shaky but laced with need.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

I scooped her up without hesitation, her legs wrapping around my waist, her laugh muffled by the way my mouth devoured hers. Each step to the bedroom felt like fire under my skin, my cock straining painfully against my jeans.

When I laid her down, her hat tumbled off to the floor, and I chuckled darkly. “Cute,” I murmured, dragging my mouth down her throat, nipping at the skin. “But I’m about to ruin that dress.”

She shivered, biting her lip. “Dean…”

I pulled back just long enough to look her in the eye, my voice dropping low and filthy. “Tell me, baby. You want me to fuck you slow, make it sweet—or do you want me to bend you over and fuck you until you forget your own name?”

Her lips parted, her voice barely more than a trembling breath. “Make me forget.”

Christ. That was it. The line that snapped whatever hold I had left.

“You have no fucking clue what you just asked for,” I growled, sliding down her body, shoving her skirt up her thighs. “But you’re about to learn.”

Her skin was hot under my hands, smooth, trembling. I hooked her legs over my shoulders and pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, slow and teasing, before biting a little harder at her thigh. She gasped, fingers gripping the sheets.

“Dean—”

“Shh,” I murmured, dragging my mouth higher. “I told you I was starving. And I’m not stopping until you’re shaking so hard you can’t even say my name.”

Then I buried my face between her legs.

Her taste hit me like sin and salvation all at once. I licked slow at first, savoring every inch, then sucked her clit hard enough to make her cry out. Her hips bucked, and I held her down, groaning into her like I could live on nothing but this.

“That’s it,” I rasped between strokes, my tongue relentless. “So fucking sweet. You’re perfect, Amber. You hear me? Perfect.”

She whimpered, her hands tangling in my hair, tugging, pushing, not sure if she wanted to pull me away or hold me there forever. I pressed two fingers into her, curling just right, and her moan tore through the air like music.

“Fuck yes,” I snarled, lips wet against her. “Squeeze me like that. Goddamn, you’re so tight. This pussy was made for me.”

Her back arched, thighs trembling against my shoulders, and I doubled down, tongue flicking faster, fingers driving deeper. The sounds she made—breathy, desperate, breaking—pushed me over the edge of sanity.

“Come for me, Amber,” I demanded, pulling back just enough to let my words hit her. “Come all over my fucking mouth. Make a mess of me.”

Her cry echoed through the room as her body clenched, pulsing around my fingers, thighs shaking against my head. I groaned into her, licking her through every wave, tasting every drop like it was the only thing I’d ever need.

By the time she collapsed back on the bed, panting, trembling, her hair a wild halo around her flushed face, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and crawled up her body, kissing her hard, letting her taste herself on my lips.

“You,” I whispered against her mouth, my cock straining painfully against her, “are never going to forget this.”

And from the look in her eyes—dazed, hungry, already pulling me closer—I knew she wouldn’t.

Her body was still trembling under me, her chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm, when I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her lips were swollen from my kiss, her eyes glassy with pleasure, and she looked wrecked already. Wrecked and perfect.

But she’d asked me to make her forget. And I wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Flip over,” I ordered, my voice low and guttural.

Her eyes widened, but she obeyed, turning onto her stomach, then onto her hands and knees when I nudged her thighs apart.

The skirt of her dress bunched around her waist, her ass bare and waiting.

I groaned, my cock throbbing almost painfully as I freed myself, pumping once, twice, just to keep from losing it too fast.

“Look at you,” I growled, running a hand down her back, gripping her hip tight enough to leave marks. “So fucking ready for me. You want it this way, baby? You want me to fuck you until you forget?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Dean, please—”

That was all I needed. I slammed into her in one hard thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She cried out, her hands clawing at the sheets, and I groaned loud, the sound ripped out of me.

“Fuck, Amber. So tight. This pussy is mine.”

I set a brutal pace, hips snapping against her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Each thrust drove her forward on the mattress, but I caught her braid in my hand and pulled her back onto me, making her take every inch.

“You feel that?” I snarled in her ear as I bent over her, teeth grazing her shoulder. “Every time I fuck you like this, it’s me reminding you—you’re mine now. No more thinking about him. No more hurting. Just me, filling you up, making you forget every goddamn thing but how good I make you feel.”

Her moans were wrecked, high and broken, her body tightening around me with every thrust. I slid a hand down, finding her clit, circling it hard and fast while I pounded into her.

“God, yes,” she sobbed. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

I laughed against her neck, dark and filthy. “You think I could stop? Not when you’re squeezing me like this. You’re fucking addicted to me already, aren’t you?”

“Yes—Dean, oh my God—”

Her walls clamped down, her whole body seizing as she shattered again, crying out loud enough I was glad no one could hear us. I fucked her through it, relentless, chasing my own release.

The sight of her, bent over, shaking, dripping down my cock, pushed me over the edge. With a curse, I thrust deep one last time and came hard, filling her, groaning her name into her hair as my body shook.

For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing, the creak of the bed under us. I held her tight against me, still buried inside her, kissing the sweat-damp skin of her shoulder.

“Amber,” I murmured, voice hoarse, “I told you. You’re never going to forget.”

She turned her head just enough to meet my eyes, flushed and smiling faintly through the haze. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to.”

Amber shifted under me, her breath still ragged, her skin damp with sweat. I felt her body tense like she was about to move away, about to get up, maybe even grab her things and leave.

The thought hit me like a punch to the chest.

Before she could take a step, I cupped her face and kissed her. Not rough this time, not claiming, but soft. Slow. A kiss that asked instead of demanded.

She melted against me, lips trembling, her hands sliding to my chest.

When I pulled back, I kept my forehead pressed to hers, my voice low and raw. “Stay the night, Amber. Fucking stay.”

Her eyes widened, hazel flecked with something I couldn’t quite name. Fear, maybe. Doubt. That instinct to run before it gets too real. But beneath all of that, I saw the same thing I felt—a pull neither of us could fight anymore.

She hesitated, breath catching, and for a second I thought she’d still walk. Then she exhaled, slow, and nodded. “Okay.”

Relief hit me so hard I kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into it. I held her close, my hand tangling in her hair, her soft sigh vibrating against my lips.

When we finally broke apart, I pulled the blanket over her, tucking her against my chest. My pulse was still racing, but not from the sex—not anymore. It was from the weight of her body in my arms, the simple fact that she was still here.

Amber. In my bed. Choosing to stay.

I pressed a kiss to her temple, my arms tightening around her. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I don’t want to wake up without you.”

And for the first time in years, I fell asleep with more than exhaustion in my bones.