Claiming Amelia

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Claiming Amelia Page 12

by Jessica Blake


  Across from me, Amelia winced at that news. Obviously, she hadn’t meant to hurt him and had swung out when he got too close.

  “Do they know it was her?”

  Brennan and his men had a way of knowing everything practically before it happened. He had little moles planted everywhere, and they all dealt in information. It’s why I paid the man so well and kept him happy. Well, that, and he was like a brother to me.

  “They know,” he answered, closing his eyes. “They know, and they’re calling for revenge against the Byrne family — specifically JJ and Amelia.”

  Damn it.

  I wasn’t afraid of the Duffy family because whatever I had to lose, I was able to keep safe with expert planning and countermeasures. But I couldn’t keep an entire family of stubborn, Irish Catholic Southies from doing whatever the hell they didn’t want to do. And Jack Sr. probably wasn’t in the mood to be bullied into hiding by a couple of morons like Kevin Duffy’s sons, Jake and Bryan.

  “It’s the two idiots, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t think the sister would necessarily be clamoring for some sort of retaliation war. It had to be the brothers looking for some reason to mess up JJ and scare Jack Sr. into doing whatever their end-game goal was.

  I didn’t know their end-game goal, and I didn’t know how Jack Sr. would necessarily respond to the intimidation.

  “It’s the Duffy brothers, yeah.” Brennan nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  I watched Amelia’s eyes widen at the name. “I’m not really sure what I’m going to do about all of this. Do you think they’ll press charges? Will I go to jail?”

  She didn’t seem overly concerned, to be honest. Sort of amused, maybe a little annoyed. But she wasn’t scared.

  “I don’t think it will go that far,” I replied. “I’m not sure they want the cops in any of their business at this point because most of it is not legitimate and operates under the table.”

  Amelia considered my words a moment, chewing on her lip. “This is the last thing my dad needs right now,” she said, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palms. “I was just getting close to convincing him to take some time away from work and plan for the surgery. Mom was going to take a leave of absence from her sister’s shop too. I wouldn’t exactly call it a vacation, but they were going to take time off for his surgery and spend it together, helping his recovery.”

  Her voice was hitching as she talked, the emotion bubbling on the surface, and she looked embarrassed as she lost control of the shake in her voice.

  Taking a deep breath, she blew it out and closed her eyes, probably wrestling her emotions back under control. “I’m afraid that if this gets bad, it will make it so much worse for my father, and right now, he needs to worry about recovering.”

  The heartbreak in her voice was clear, despite the fact that she’d gotten herself under control. I admired the pluck she was showing by not falling to pieces right in front of us. Despite the fact that I knew she wouldn’t want it, all I wanted to do was drag her to my chest and hold her.

  Very unlike me, actually. I wanted to chase all her demons away and make her world sunny and bright.

  Instead, I cleared my throat. “Don’t stress yourself out too much yet. There’s still a few ways it can all play out, and you have me and Brennan here to help you.”

  I caught the teasing oh, really? look Brennan shot me, but I chose to ignore it. Yes, she did have Brennan on her side as long as I was paying him.

  “I appreciate the offer,” she said. “But I’ve already accepted too much from you guys. I’m going to head home in the morning and come up with a plan with my father and get this all sorted.”

  Brennan shook his head. “You remember what assholes that family was back in the day, don’t you?”

  Amelia nodded, her eyes narrowing with worry. The Duffy family was pretty legendary in the neighborhood for what giant scumbags they were.

  “Well, now they have money, a few well-placed bribes with a few precinct cops, and potentially, a junior prosecutor somewhere in the district attorney’s office, so they pretty much think they’re untouchable now,” Brennan said. “It won’t be so simple.”

  Amelia pressed her fingers to her temples as she thought about everything we’d told her. It was a lot to take in. A second knock sounded, and I stood to get our food.

  “Did you get me a burger by chance?” Brennan asked with a laugh. He knew better than that.

  “Not a chance,” I replied and handed Amelia her food, which she took with a smile.

  “And with that, I shall venture forth and gossip with your brother Finn a little,” he said enigmatically, making Amelia frown while I flipped him off when she wasn’t looking. He was off to tell my younger brother how I had Amelia holed up in here with me for the next couple days at least.

  Information. It was what Brennan wheeled and dealed in, even if his profit was a free round of drinks on a Saturday night.

  “Here’s an idea,” I said as I held the door open for him. “Instead of spending all your free time getting free drinks out of my brother, why don’t you take some of the millions you have squirreled away from your secret investments and date a real girl?”

  Brennan rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger for a moment before looking up at me. “Nah. I’m good. Your brother’s way cheaper than a girlfriend.”

  With that, I shut the door in his face and locked it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Amelia

  For being some reclusive, unfriendly mega-rich tycoon in the Boston business world, Declan was surprisingly normal. Sure, his penthouse was amazing and perfect in every way — from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the counter-to-counter appliances that all had their own personal Wi-Fi hotspots — but Declan himself was comfortable walking around in a pair of jogging pants, some slippers, and a Boston University sweatshirt while we ate an early dinner.

  This was honestly more fun to me than either of the dinner dates we’d been on because I felt like I was getting some behind-the-scenes access to the man that most women didn’t get. At least, I hoped most women didn’t end up in his penthouse too often. From my initial assessment — okay, snooping — of his bathroom and bedroom, there was no evidence of a woman anywhere. No extra toothbrush, no flowery lotion.

  Nothing but manly-man things and manly-man smells everywhere.

  And that made me oddly happy, despite the fact that Declan owed me nothing. I was also relishing in the fact that I was wearing his clothes, and I was almost reluctant to take the huge shopping bags Brennan had brought with him.

  Almost.

  I mean, the man had picked stuff up from Nordstrom’s for me, so I had to look.

  After pawing through the things on the guest bed, I walked back out into the living room just as Declan looked up from finishing his meal.

  “How did he get the sizes so right?” I asked, my fists planted on my hips.

  “I checked the tags of your clothes while you were in the shower,” he said, looking back at his drink. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s all really nice of you. I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

  That got his attention. “Surprised? Why?”

  I’d gotten in a little deep with this line of conversation and probably needed to make an exit quickly. But Declan was keyed in on what I was saying now, and I wasn’t sure he’d let it go either.

  “I mean, it’s just a really thoughtful detail, I didn’t think…” Shit. I wasn’t trying to insult the man. He was just this uber-successful businessman. Getting the tag sizes off a girl’s clothes didn’t seem to be something he’d care about.

  “But what? You didn’t think I was capable of being thoughtful?”

  He was standing, his hands on his hips as he walked toward me, his head angled to the side. He’d taken a shower also, and his hair had dried across his eyes, devoid of the usual gel that kept it impeccably in place. For a moment, I was transfixed by this new vi
ew of him that I’d been allowed access to.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” I mumbled, frowning as I not only tried to remember what I was trying to say in the first place but also how I’d managed to not notice how gold his eyes became when hit just so by the fading light of the sun behind me. “It’s just that it’s so insignificant.”

  I was mumbling again, but I put a hard stop to the rambling sentence and hoped he’d just bypass it. But he didn’t.

  “Nothing about you is insignificant to me, Amelia,” he said, and I swore I heard my heart thudding in my chest. Could he hear it too? I hoped beyond reason that he was oblivious to the percussion concert happening as he took another few steps closer to me.

  He was looking down at me as his body loomed close to mine, and I drank in the heat that was coming off him, even from where he stood. His face was angled down at mine, and for a split second, I was so certain that he was going to kiss me that I licked my lips in anticipation and had just started to close my eyes when his hand angled my chin away from his face.

  What the hell?

  Shooting a glance back at him, I realized that he was examining my bruised cheek.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to move out of his grasp before he could see the color on my cheeks after being denied the kiss I was so certain was coming. My poor ego. After our time in his car, I’d thought… hoped… dreamed… but he wasn’t looking at me with lust at all. In fact, his touch was very clinical. I did my best to hide my disappointment.

  “Let me look,” he insisted as he pulled my face back toward his. He was close now and grinning. He’d totally seen me lick my lips and read my reaction perfectly. But instead of making fun of me, he gently cupped both hands to the sides of my face and lowered his head until his lips brushed against mine. There was no rush — only heat and tenderness.

  Did he feel sorry for me now? Was this a pity kiss?

  I just couldn’t read him well enough to understand his intentions.

  Embarrassed, I pulled myself free from his grasp, and hightailed it back to the guest room so I could get my phone on a charger and talk to Pop before he went to sleep for the night. He was normally in bed reading on his fancy new Kindle by nine.

  Mom answered when I got through.

  “He’s fine, honey,” she said. “He’s on the phone with JJ at the moment. Don’t worry about anything, okay? We’ll figure this all out. You just enjoy your time with Declan.”

  I couldn’t help but notice just how pleased she sounded at the prospect. Embarrassed at what I thought she was implying, I wished her a good night and turned on the television in the guest room. From the sounds outside the door, Declan must have figured I’d turned in for the night and retreated to the master bedroom — the glorious, Declan-smelling wonderland of a masculine retreat.

  I tried hard not to think about the sexy man as I settled on a brainless reality show, hoping my mind would drift. I couldn’t settle down though. It was impossible. My mind was racing and replaying certain moments of the afternoon — some terrifying, some epic. But they all had me frazzled and overloaded on adrenaline all over again.

  With a frustrated sigh, I stood in the center of the room and tried a couple yoga poses I’d learned over the past few months from the Internet. No luck. I looked for a meditation playlist that would keep my mind from going off on another tangent, but nothing was working.

  Forcing myself to turn the lights off and lay in bed, I must have tossed and turned for a good hour and a half before sitting up and deciding I needed something to drink. Padding through the darkness, I crept to the kitchen and searched for the cupboard that held his glasses. After a few false starts, I found it and got myself some filtered water from the sink.

  After a long drink, I turned away from the sink and froze. Before me stood a bare-chested Declan, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Had I not readjusted my grip in time, I was pretty sure the glass would have slipped and smashed into a million pieces on the floor.

  Holy. Hard. Bodies. Batman.

  I knew Declan was fit, I knew it. But this… this shredded glorious being in front of me was something else entirely.

  “Y-y-you’re,” I stammered, blinking hard and setting the water down on the marble island that separated the two of us. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”

  He frowned and looked down at his chest, grinning when he looked back up. Obviously, was clearly written on his face.

  “What’s wrong, Amelia?” he asked, instead of acknowledging my idiotic statement. “Can’t sleep?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I nodded. “I’ve tried everything. Stretching. Meditation. Reality television. It’s not working. I can’t get my mind to slow down.”

  He took a wide step around the enormous island between us, and I turned to face him as he did. There was something forward about the way he was slowly walking toward me, his eyes burning into mine, his expression unreadable.

  I wasn’t falling for it again though.

  “If you’re here to inspect my face, don’t worry about it,” I said, putting my hands up defensively. “The swelling’s gone down, and it’s barely discolored. I’m fine.”

  Declan came closer and leaned against the island, only a few inches in front of me. He was leaning down, towering over me.

  Lifting my chin, I smiled and moved to step around him. “Good night.”

  His arm shot out, stopping me. But his touch was gentle, as was the expression on his face. He pulled me until I was pressed against his warmth. “I’m not here to look at your cheek,” he whispered, moving his mouth closer to mine. I pulled back, wondering if he was playing with me again. He smelled so good, and his skin beneath my palms seemed to beg for me to run my hands over it, maybe nip it with exploratory kisses.

  I held strong, despite the fact that everything inside me wanted to crawl up this man’s body and attack his face. “Then what are you here to do?”

  Declan just looked at me, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything.

  Disappointment stabbed at me and emotion flooded my face. Before I could embarrass myself with tears, I stepped back. “I’m going to bed.”

  He caught me again, but instead of pulling me to him, he turned me until I was facing the island, pressing me between the hard granite and his even harder body.

  “You’re not going anywhere yet.” His voice was a growl as he ground his erection into my backside, making me gasp.

  I bit back a sob, forcing my voice to be steady. “Declan, what do you want from me? You’re hot then you’re cold. I don’t like these games and I don’t like trying to read between the lines.” I pressed back against him. “Just tell me what you want.”

  His hands smoothed up my arms, his lips pressing into my hair. “You. I want you.” His arms tightened around me. “I’ve fought the need for you for years now, but it all came back the moment I saw you on the street outside the restaurant a couple weeks ago.” He exhaled a long breath, warming my neck. When I tried to turn, he held me tighter, like he couldn’t be honest while facing me. “But there’s no rush, Amelia. No rush at all between us.”

  Well, I hated to argue at a time like this, but there was an expiration date on the two of us. This wasn’t permanent, no matter how much I was starting to like him. He wasn’t the permanent type, that much was obvious, and I wasn’t the Boston type anymore. I had places to go. Dreams to chase.

  But for now? Right now, if Declan was serious about getting me naked, I was game.

  “I’m kind of in a rush,” I whispered with a smile. “I’ve been sexually frustrated since our make-out session in your car. I can’t help but wonder what else those magic fingers can do.”

  He laughed, and all the tension seemed to melt from his body. Moving my hair from the side of my throat, he pressed a wet kiss on the sensitive skin between my ear and my neck. I shuddered at the sensation, goose bumps raising on my arms. Turning my head, I gave him better acce
ss.

  “No rush, baby,” he whispered, gently nipping that place that turned me into a puddle.

  Working against his resistance, I turned in his arms. I needed to see his face, look into his eyes. Raising my hands to his shoulders, I asked, “What if I want to rush?”

  He growled, his nostrils flaring, and with a single movement lifted me onto the countertop. He spread my knees apart and pushed his hips so that they were cradled up against mine. In this position, I was closer to him, and he wasted no time in grasping my face between his hands and starting another round of haze-inducing kisses.

  “I don’t want to screw this up, Amelia,” he said. “That’s why I’ve taken it extra slow with you. But don’t think for one moment that I haven’t wanted to see you naked, writhing beneath me. It’s all I can think about. I obsess over what you’ll taste like, what you’ll feel like.”

  His words had me pretty close to writhing already, so I reached up and pulled his beautiful mouth back down to mine, and as if we’d done this a thousand times, we came together perfectly. No bumping noses. No miscues. Just lips and tongue and lust.

  My hands encircled his neck while my legs wrapped around his waist. He was mine, and I wasn’t going to let him go. Not yet, anyway.

  He broke our kiss, gasping against my lips, and I was pleased to know I affected him as much as he affected me. “Do you want this?” he asked against my lips.

  I quirked an eyebrow. “My water? No. I could care less about that,” I joked, being obtuse on purpose. He punished me with a nip on my lower lip that was part pain, mostly hot.

  “Do you want this, Amelia?” He repeated the question, and I could see the seriousness in his eyes. He didn’t want me to have any regrets.

  I took his face in my hands, matching his gravity. “I want you. This. No expectations. Just this.”

 

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