Page 101 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

CHAPTER TWELVE

Amelia knew she could stop this. The thought revolved in the back of her mind. It was too much, and all she had to do was say no .

She didn’t want to. All the unknown things that lay on the other side were far too alluring.

No, this solved nothing. They could see this physical combustion through to the other side, and all that lay shattered and confused and undetermined would still exist and need dealing with.

But even without solutions, this was something. She could give him something good. He could give her something good. And if all that was left on the other side was wreckage, then at least she would be forced to act , to be .

To stop hiding here, not as different as his isolation as she’d like to pretend. That was what bringing him back had done. Maybe it hadn’t fixed him, but it had made her realize just what she’d been doing.

It was a precipice, between hiding and surviving and flying and living. And if she let this moment expand and grow, if she gave over to the powerful chemistry between them, it would be choosing to grow up, to fly, to live.

It was time.

And then his grip tightened, and all thought was gone. She was nothing but a skittering heartbeat and throbbing pulse. She was nothing but a body, desperate to find pleasure in another body.

His low, throaty growl was one of possession, and it rumbled through her like expensive liquor.

Smooth and brutal and potent. His hands moved up, fingers tangling in her hair.

His tongue moved inside her mouth, tangling with her own, an almost violent fight for…

something. She didn’t know what, but she wanted to engage in it anyway.

She felt cool air and realized belatedly he was pulling her shirt up. He dragged his mouth away from hers, but only long enough to tug her shirt off and drop it on the ground. His mouth back on hers in seconds, his rough hands now on the bare skin of her back.

This was perhaps too much, too out of control.

And she loved it. The way her thoughts scattered and the only thing she could focus on was the jangling reaction of her body, the heat of his. The wild, twirling ride of his hands on her bare skin.

She wanted more. She threw herself into the kiss, into the dark, exotic taste of him, all while her fingers worked blindly to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Once she’d succeeded, she pushed the shirt off, reveling in the sheer size of his shoulders, the hard muscle that existed there.

Tense and vibrating while his mouth devoured hers, and his hands streaked down her back, cupping the curve of her bottom and pulling her flush with the hard length of him.

She moaned into his mouth, which tightened his grip and had sparks of throbbing, potent desire alighting every nerve ending. She wanted to ask him for something, but she had no words. Only noises.

Every touch was flame and joy. His teeth scraped down her neck, and she felt as though she’d been thrown into another universe, where pain and pleasure were one, and everything she wanted.

Over and over again.

He pushed down her pants and underwear together so that she was suddenly naked in front of him, her clothes a pile at her feet. And he didn’t give her a chance to speak, to breathe. His hands cupped the most intimate part of her, turning her into a quivering mass of nothing but need.

He explored with his fingers, unerringly stroking every last nerve ending. Unerringly building her up only to ease away. Soften the touch, the kiss. Pull back until she made desperate noises, and then he would build her right back up again.

A riotous, torturous tease, and she could only stand there and take it, holding on to him while his mouth traced down the curve of her breast, then fixed over one taut nipple.

She cried out, or maybe just opened her mouth in a silent scream. The orgasm ripped through her like an avalanche, blanketing all that destruction with nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss.

Her knees were weak, and even the arms that held on to him tightly started to slip. But before she could simply fall into a spineless heap at his feet, he swept her into his arms and carried her over to her bed as if she weighed nothing.

He laid her out, looked down at her with those potent, hungry eyes. In this moment, the only thing that was true and right was that he wanted her.

And she wanted him.

Everything else had faded away. There was only this and them as his hands, so rough, so hot against her skin, toured a slow and thorough map of her body. His mouth followed. Everything he did stoked a million fires, and she wanted him to stoke them higher. But he still had his pants on.

There was no going back now. How could there be? She nudged him back, got to her knees as he was. She met his gaze, then found the clasp of his pants with her hands. She didn’t look away from him, even as she struggled to undo his pants, unzip them.

There was no going back. No, the lines were crossed, and now she wanted everything.

She was perfection and not deserving it or her did not dull the sublime wonder of it all. The softness of her skin, the delicate sweetness of her taste. The way she enveloped him with warmth, with something that felt perilously close to belonging.

Her elegant pale hand wrapping around him, stroking, something like wonder there in her expression, but more than that. A consideration on her face, as though this was a new problem.

No, not a problem. A curiosity. The first warning bell was too faint to pay attention to, not when his body raged with need. His hand enveloped the back of her head, urging her closer and closer, until she opened her mouth for him.

He took his time, watching those pink lips envelop where he was too hard to stand. The sublime pleasure of it all, that she would be on her knees for him, the delicate perfection of her.

But this would not be enough, and it was already too much.

He pulled her away, nudged her back and ranged over her in one swift move.

Some other faint warning bell sounded, but he pushed it away harder, because she held on to him, arched up for him, her body begging even if she didn’t verbalize what she wanted.

He didn’t need her to. He positioned himself at her entrance, found her warm and ready, and he tortured himself with the impossible, glorious give of her. Inch by inch. A pleasure he’d denied himself these past two years, and yet it was still brighter and more glorious than even he remembered.

Until she stiffened there under him. This was a confusing response, so he looked down at her, that third warning bell ringing a little bit louder.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and a dawning horror had him pausing. “Amelia…”

But then she opened her eyes, heated silver. She fisted her hand in his hair and pulled him down for a punishing, bruising kiss and moved against him, making him forget…

She moved against him, so he moved with her. The tension melted away, her hand stayed fisted in his hair, as they rocked in the age-old dance.

Her shuddering release brought him too close to his own, and only the sneaking suspicion still lingering from that initial tension gave him the forethought to pull out, to spill across her stomach.

His muscles quivered as he held himself above her, looking down at her. Surely…he was wrong. He had to be wrong.

She wouldn’t have done… that . She would have stopped this. She…

He had gone into this knowing there was nothing but ruin, but this… This was unconscionable. He could not hold his weight any longer, too many things roaring through him, least of all the spent wanting that didn’t seem to have fully dissipated no matter how thoroughly he’d taken her.

Taken. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, but it lasted only a moment or two before he had to look at her. Had to make sure…

“You were not a virgin,” he said, as if to convince himself. As if to make it true, when all evidence pointed…to the opposite.

Amelia said nothing. She lay there, the prettiest, most perfect picture, mussed and used and sated, expressly not looking at him.

“Amelia,” he said darkly.

She turned her head toward him, her expression all feigned innocence. “What?”

“I asked you a question.”

“No, you didn’t,” she replied with that same calm and clear gray gaze. “You made a statement.”

His ears were still buzzing, his body still throbbing even as it began to cool. She… She… “Tell me, then, that you were not a virgin,” he ground out. An order. Because she…couldn’t be.

She met his gaze, chin raised, but she said nothing for a long time. Then, eventually, when he did not look away or let the moment go, she sighed. “Would you like me to lie?” she asked in that gentle way she had that made him feel like a fool.

Why was he naked in bed with a woman who made him feel like a fool ? An innocent woman…innocent no longer. Because of him .

Maybe it was more of that punishment he loved so much, but it was hard to convince himself of that when some primal space deep inside relished it . No one else had touched her. She was his and his alone.

Except you deserve nothing and no one.

“You know, if you were concerned about it, you could have asked.”

“Asked?” he repeated. “It never occurred…” He had to get away from her. He all but threw himself out of the bed, found his discarded pants and jerked them on. “You will not turn this around on me.”

She made a move to get out of the bed, but he held out his hand. “Wait.”

She stilled immediately, and he knew the satisfaction over that was misplaced, but it was there all the same. He strode over to her little bathroom, grabbed a frilly towel and made sure to wet it with warm water.

He returned, and when she looked at it with a quizzical expression, he scowled. Then did the deed himself, cleaning off her stomach in quick, efficient strokes.

Something soft and completely out of place was in her expression. He hated it.