CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

JAKE

“You’ve reached Amelia Stevens. I’m unable?—”

Once more, I cut the call then try again, only to endure the maddening refrain for what feels like the thousandth time. I rake my fingers through my hair. Is she ghosting me? Screw it. I’m going to her place.

Desperation fuels me as I scan the street outside Mom’s. Among the parked cars, one cab idles at the far corner. Its “off duty” indicator is a glaring contradiction of the shadow lounging in the driver’s seat. Whatever. I barrel toward it and yank the door open with more force than necessary before flinging myself into the backseat.

The man upfront twists around. “Hey?—”

“Dude, I’m desperate. I need to get to my girl.” The knot in my stomach tightens with every second that ticks by.

After a long look, a reluctant nod follows. “Fine.”

Small victories. I’ll take them. “Fulton Street Station.”

The cab lurches into motion and the cityscape blurs into a messy wallpaper as I scramble to form some version of a “please don’t leave the country because of my momentary idiocy” apology. I’m better with actions, not words. Then a new thought paralyzes me—what if she’s already left? Fuck. My passport. “Wait!”

Brakes screech, sending me slamming forward. “Tribeca. We gotta go to Tribeca.”

A giant scowl finds me in the rearview mirror, but the taxi turns in the direction of our updated destination anyway while I stab at my phone for the next flight out.

As soon as we’re in front of my building, I’m halfway out of the car. “Hang on, I just need to grab something. I’ll be right back.”

The driver twists, skepticism etched on his face. “Buddy, I don’t do waiting gigs,” he mutters, clearly unamused by my erratic behavior.

Without hesitation, I dig into my wallet, pulling out every dollar I find and thrusting them at him. “Please, just wait.” The stack of bills rustles in the tense air between us. “I have more upstairs,” I tack on. Whatever it takes to sweeten the pot.

He eyeballs the money, then me. “You got five minutes, Romeo,” he concedes, grabbing the cash, though his expression still tells me he’s second-guessing his decision.

I nod, grateful, and dash out of the cab, pulse hammering as I tear through the lobby. For all I know, it’s already too late.

The ride to my penthouse is the longest journey of my life. Visions of what Amelia will do once I catch up with her race through my brain—she’d be well within her rights to tell me to fuck off and walk away after how I left her. A fresh burst of fear blooms in my gut.

But I’m not ready to give up. Not yet. I’ll do anything to win her back. And if she really wants to go to England and run her inn?

Deep breath. Fine. I’ll become the king of afternoon tea and scones if I have to. I love New York, my family, the Titans. But for Amelia? I’d swap the skyline for Stonehenge in a heartbeat.

There’s no reason I can’t learn to like the UK. Bet I’d be an awesome soccer player, too. I’m sure I can talk Noah into buying some Premier League team. Or even better, make the NFL a thing in Europe. They’d had a taste of those pre-season games, now I’ll deliver the full feast. If Beckham could turn soccer into an American dream, surely Cunningham can unleash some gridiron magic across the pond.

The panels part with a ding. I dash through my penthouse, grandiose plans of reclaiming my love while changing the face of international sports swirling in my head. That’s when a bizarre melody halts me mid-stride. It’s coming from my bedroom. Off-key. Is that the Spice Girls?

With a mix of caution and curiosity, I edge toward the source of the sound, my heartrate picking up with each step. The moment I push open the door, the humming cuts off and my world stops. There, in the middle of my bed, as if I’ve conjured her, is Amelia.

“Jake…?”

My jaw drops. “Amelia?”

“Hi.” Her voice is soft, unsure.

“What the?—”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupts, her lovely accent raw and ragged, as if she’s speaking past daggers in her throat.

Details become clearer as I adjust to the dim light, and my gaze sweeps up her body, taking in red heels, smooth thighs, and barely-there panties and a bra to match. Her chest is thrust high, and her dark hair’s spread across my pillow looking like a Christmas present down to the tiny bow in the center of her breasts. My dick seems to be getting the picture, because it snaps to attention even though my brain’s still trying to process the image.

I blink. Her expression is uncomfortable, and a little freaked out. Doesn’t gel with my fantasy. Above her head, her wrists are locked together.

Jesus. The handcuffs.

She’s chained to my bed. The sight jolts me into action. I rush to close the distance between us, almost expecting Stella to pop out of nowhere. Did she kidnap Amelia before she could get on the plane?

I lean over her, and my hands meet cold, clammy skin, pebbled with goosebumps. Slight shivers wrack her form.

Fuck, how long has she been here? I rub along her sides, trying to warm her up, then reach to fumble for the hidden catch Connor showed me. I can’t find it.

“Where’s the key?” I push up on my palms. I need to get her free. I look around desperately.

“Behind the bed. It fell by mistake.”

Shock surges through me, and I pause mid-motion. “Hold on. You did this?” Slowly, she nods and my incredulity spikes. Why would she do this? “What if I hadn’t come home? Or the building caught on fire? Or a cat burglar got in?”

Dropping to the floor, my fingers sweep across the wood like drunken spiders skittering for cover. I try to steady my thundering heart, so I can scour the ground with purpose, not panic. But the less success I have locating the key, the more my mind spirals.

Shaking off grim what-ifs, I sit on my knees, flick on the light, and renew my hunt. There. My target glints by the baseboard. I grab it, relief and urgency propelling me upright.

I’m at the lock again, my moves almost jerky in their haste, but Amelia’s bound hands catch my wrists. “Wait.”

I freeze, poised above her trembling body.

Her breath gusts out, and her gaze overbright and glistening at the corners. “I know you’re upset I’m here, but I need you to listen before you boot me out.”

Upset? I’m thrilled she’s here and not flying over an ocean to Pencil Dick. How could she think I could throw her out?

“I—I…” she begins, but her words tremble, scarcely making it out. Fuck this. I jam the key into the post. “Stop!”

“I’m listening,” I growl.

“You’re probably angry?—”

“Furious. I can’t believe you did this,” I mutter. Furious that she thought this was necessary to get my attention. My eyes flash to hers. Furious and relieved and worried and ecstatic all at once. My sweet, sweet, misguided girl. I stroke her cheek and take a calming breath. The woman’s a hazard to herself. She needs a keeper. Good thing I’m about to volunteer for the job.

My focus snaps back to the handcuffs. The damned key won’t turn. I twist again.

Fucking finally, it cooperates. One ring springs open. Gently, I slide it off her wrist, unloop the chain from the rail, and lower both her arms. She groans in relief, flexing her fingers several times. I take a few seconds to massage the tender skin where the metal bit into her flesh then return to the remaining cuff.

After a moment, she tentatively starts over. “When I told you I was leaving, I need you to know none of it was ever because I didn’t want you.” Urgency quickens her voice, and I nod curtly, acknowledging her confession without letting it distract me from my task. “And I do trust you, even if?—”

A sharp click cuts her off, and her eyes drop to the handcuffs. Confusion flickers over her features before her face swings to me in shock. “What?—?”

I haven’t unlocked her other wrist. Instead, I’ve fastened the open cuff around my own, binding us together.

She freezes, the only movement the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her gaze ping-pongs between her hand and mine, just inches apart.

“Amelia.” I knit the fingers of our tethered hands, the metal clanging with the motion.

“Jake—” Her breath’s a whisper now.

“I love you. Where you go, I go. Back to Fordwich, off to wherever your next adventure takes you, to hell and beyond. I’m with you.” My voice cracks and dies. Shit. Words aren’t usually such a challenge. I avert my eyes, and concentrate on our joined grip. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?” I grumble.

She inhales shakily, and then the fingertips of her free hand press into the curve of my jaw, tilting my head up to hers. “That I love you, too,” Amelia says quietly. “And I’m not leaving.”

My breath stops. Maybe my heart. Disbelief must be painted all over my face.

“I’m not,” she repeats in a rush, as if to cement her resolve. “I’m not going home. I mean, I’m not going back to England. I’m staying here. In this home. With you?”

That the last part comes out a question at all has emotion clogging my throat. I can only answer by brushing my mouth over hers. Cradling her head with my free hand, I tug her to me. “Sweets…” I falter. I shut my eyes and press our foreheads together, the familiar scent of her grounding me as I let her words sink in, their liquid warmth draining the tension out of me.

When I manage to speak, my tone is husky. “And your grandmother? The inn?”

“I told Gran I wasn’t taking over the inn. Then called Gotham Guides and practically browbeat them into reconsidering an investment in RhythmRoutes. They’re thinking about it. But no matter what happens, I’ll sort it out.”

I pull back and open my eyes to a new steel in her gaze. God, she’s gorgeous. “Thank fuck. I was about to pack up and follow you.”

“You were?” My pulse stumbles, an ache blooming in my chest.

Her arms, bent at the elbows, frame her surprised face. I bracket them with my own forearms, and swing over her, careful to keep my full weight off her. “You didn’t think I’d give up on you so soon, did you?”

Slowly, she smiles. The slight arc makes my breath hitch and my heart feel like it might burst through my ribs.

Amelia’s free fingers tangle into my hair, and she pulls me close and fuses our lips together. Shockwaves ripple down to my toes.

I go deep, licking into her. She’s intoxicating. Addictive. Sweet. Mine. She’s kissing me just as hungrily, and I’m about lose my mind.

My hand glides down her back until I’m cupping her ass, drawing her closer. I kiss the edge of her jaw and nuzzle along her neck, lingering there for a moment to feel her pulse beneath my mouth then ghost down over a laced-encased tip.

I return for a quick nip before dragging one bra strap off her shoulder with my teeth then the other. Once the lace clears her breasts, I swoop in to take a nipple between my lips.

A little whimper escapes her as I suck at the perfect peak, and the sound has my skin prickling. I’ll do it forever to keep hearing it. I’ve got time.

She rocks against me, and I skim down her satiny torso, nipping and tasting as I go, her ribs, her navel, until I reach the spot right above her thong. And then my mouth’s hovering just over the heat of her, wrapped in more pretty red packaging.

I look up.

The open expression in her eyes slays me, and I swallow.

Her thighs part at my unspoken prompt, and I hook my free thumb under the damp lace gusset and tug it aside, so she’s bared to me, all pink and puffy and perfect. Her handcuffed hand tangles in my hair, pulling mine along to rest on her belly.

I stay locked on her as I lower my head and take a delicate lap of the sensitive bud. She gasps, and I hum in pleasure in response. Delicious. Sweet and salty and sexy.

I lick at the stiff little nub again, flick it with my tongue, and she shudders, letting out an impatient whimper, so needy for me. She moans as I suck it into my mouth, and when she writhes against me, it’s a struggle not to thrust into her there and then, but I relish the knowledge I’ll be able to do this until the end of time.

Under my lips, her body trembles, little gasps leaving her as she lifts her hips for more. I work that spot within her I know drives her wild, taking my time, loving how greedy she is for me.

“Jake, please,” she breathes, her voice shaking.

She’s close. So close. One last lap and she seizes, a wordless cry tearing from her as she arches, her grip tightening in my hair as she comes, “Jake!”

I knit our fingers and surge back up to taste my name on her lips. It’s fucking heaven. Her hold on me tightens, and the metal rings locking us together clink.

I need my hands on her, everywhere. This time, nerves don’t have me fumbling, and with a slick move, I pop the cuffs free.

Amelia’s eyes blink open in shock. “Wait. How did you do that?”

“I got the skills. As you know.” I wink. I pull off my shirt, kick my jeans and underwear off, and then I’m back on top of her.

A little crease forms between her brows. “You mean you could have gotten loose at any point?”

I drop a kiss on her nose. “Not when we first met. I only found out afterward they were trick handcuffs. Guess how stupid I felt?”

She bites her lip. “So you could have unlocked me and sent me off even if I hadn’t tossed the key away?”

“Yes.” But then I go solemn. “But I wasn’t taking any chances with you running from me. Not until I had you locked down with a promise not to leave.”

I reach up and smooth her brow before skimming her temples and cupping her face. But then I smirk. “But if cuffs are your thing, I’ve no problem setting up a red room of our own.”

She blinks up at me, but then a spark creeps in. Her long legs wrap around my waist, digging into my sides. She leans forward, and I let her roll us over, so she’s straddling me.

She scoots up, so her knees are just under my armpits and then shackles each of my wrists in her hands and drags them over my head, staring down at me in triumph. “And if I want to be the one calling the play?”

I smile up at her. “I’m all yours.” Because I am. Completely. Forever. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She inhales slowly, her features softening. “I love you.” The wariness is gone now replaced by something unshakable, a quiet promise.

Air stalls in my lungs as I wait. All thoughts flee except one insistent imperative: Lock this girl down and make her mine.

She kisses me with a fierce possessiveness that has me almost weepy. Grateful doesn’t begin to cover it. She smiles against my mouth, our breath mingling. She tastes of sweetness and smells of joy. My joy.

She slides down my torso, her slick pussy dragging along my abs, her legs parting wider. My already hard dick responds. She lifts slightly, so that I’m notched at her entrance.

I lick my dry lips, taking in the sheen of her skin, the way her tits sway as she moves, the lush hair that sweeps across her face. A lump forms in my throat and I haul in an unsteady breath. “Amelia.”

She sinks down, inch by inch, until I’m buried inside her. Heat ripples through me in waves. I shudder as her tight, wet grip strangles my cock so good. I feel it in my balls, and need radiates down my thighs.

She sets a slow, torturous rhythm. Up, down. Teasing strokes, long deliberate slides. I let her draw it out. Chest heaving, I fight to stay still even though my fingers twitch with the urge to grab on to her. With every downstroke, she takes me deeper and deeper, grinding against me, picking up speed. My muscles strain and I grit my teeth. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

“That’s it, Sweets.” I groan. “Move that sweet little ass and fuck me back. Damn, you feel good.”

When her movements stutter, I grasp her waist and pull her down farther on my dick, slamming her into me, again and again, and she loves it.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she chants.

“Never,” I growl. “Never fucking ever.”

I grind up against her, and she clenches as she comes, her pussy milking my cock as her cries echo in the room.

Her dark lashes flutter, revealing those stunning sapphire blue eyes that bore into mine, open and trusting, and so full of tenderness that I lose it. I thrust up into her—rough, fast, frantic.

My entire body draws tight as pleasure punches through me, and I arch, coming so hard that for a split second, it’s as if I might never catch another breath. Like this is the end. But then I force air into my lungs—I’m not going anywhere. Nothing can stop me from doing this again. And again. Because I belong to Amelia. Now and always.

A long, long while later, we’re on our sides facing each other. “Liked the getup, Sweets,” I murmur. Her red bra’s hanging off the side of the mattress.

Her lips curve into a sly, sexy grin. “Thought you might.”

“You know me well.”

We share a smile.

“Say it again,” I tell her, playing with her hand.

“I love you.”

I press my forehead against hers. I didn’t realize how much I needed her to repeat it. My throat tightens at the emotion in her eyes. I brush a strand of sweat-slicked hair behind her ear. I still can’t believe what she did, especially when I know she hates being confined. My heart sharpens with both tenderness and awe that she would do this for me. I swallow before calling up a smirk. “I figured.”

Exasperation joins the affection in her blue, blue gaze. “Aren’t you a cocky one?

“You didn’t need to bother with the handcuffs. The red panties would have been enough. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.”