The Rebel: A Bad Boy Romance

by Aria Ford

Carson was sitting on the floor by the sink. He had his legs clasped up to his chest, and on his cheek was the mark of a tear. He was pale, and his eyes were shut. I hadn’t seen him or heard him when I came in.

  “Carson?” I whispered. “Carson?”

  He opened his eyes suddenly, round and staring with fright. Then he stood up, shakily.

  “Um…Amelia! I…no. Oh, God…” He was crying. Carson was crying. He leaned on the counter, face in his hands. His shoulders rose and fell shakily.

  “Carson.”

  Before I could think about it, my arms were around him. I held him close, rocking a little as I would if it was Cayley who was having a nightmare.

  “Shh,” I said gently. “Shh.”

  He sobbed a bit longer, then stopped. Turned to face me. “Oh, God, Amelia,” he whispered. “I…I wish you hadn’t seen me like this.” He covered his face again and his body stiffened as he tried to stop the tears.

  “No, Carson,” I said gently. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  He laughed, shakily. Slid down to sit on the chair. I sat next to him, my hand in his. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, a laugh threading his voice. “Because I’m not sure I do.”

  I didn’t say anything. Whatever it was, he needed space to talk. Anything I said might put him off. I waited. At length, he cleared his throat.

  “It was the noise,” he explained. “The bomb. Well, the firework. Whatever.” he laughed, shrugging. “It was…suddenly I was there again. In the bullets. Seeing friends die. Seeing Pete…oh, God.”

  He breathed out shakily, his hand gripping mine. I still said nothing. At length, he coughed again.

  “I’m sorry, Amelia. You must think I’m weird. But I…this…this is the first time I’ve cried.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t want to think about it. About what he’d been through. He had faced death and seen his friends die, seen blood and injury and destruction in a way most people didn’t in nightmares. He had faced danger and fear and had to walk through them every day. He hadn’t known he would come back alive. Of course, the sound of guns or explosions of any kind triggered him.

  “I’m sorry, Carson,” I whispered. “I really am.”

  He shook his head. His grip tightened in mine. “You’re sorry? Sweetheart, you don’t have to be sorry about anything.”

  I melted. He always called me sweetheart. It reached into my heart and melted it. Suddenly we were kids again, sitting under a tree, telling each other about our love. I sniffed.

  Without thinking about it, I moved and we were in each other’s arms. His mouth came down on mine and his lips were tender as they explored my own. I had forgotten his kisses; forgotten how they turned me to water. His tongue gently probed me, tasting my lips, sliding in. I shivered and leaned back, my mouth soft and welcoming to him. He leaned in and the kiss deepened, becoming passionate in a way that made my heart thud and strange warmth flow from my chest to my loins and back.

  He groaned against me, his arms tight around me. I pressed against him. Then he sat back.

  “I shouldn’t,” he said. His voice was a thread and I think he didn’t mean me to hear it, but I did.

  “Why not, Carson?” I whispered. He shook his head.

  “I’m an idiot,” he said. He stood and pushed in his chair. His eyes, looking at me, were wild. “I…I should go. Forgive me,” he blurted. Then he headed briskly through the door. I heard him taking the stairs almost at a run. I collapsed at the table and sobbed.

  “Oh, Carson.” I said aloud. “Oh, my dear. My dear man.”

  I was still at the kitchen table, shoulders heaving, tears flowing down my face, when I heard the door creak open behind me. Two sets of feet tracked quietly toward me.

  “Auntie Mellie?” Cayley lisped. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have. I promise we won’t do it again.”

  “Yes. We’ll never play with fireworks again. We didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  I looked at the two kids, a solemn delegation of self-imposed guilt. I wanted to weep again, for a different reason. For their accountability and their vulnerability. I knelt on the floor. Embraced them.

  “Kids,” I whispered into Cayley’s sweet-scented curls. “It wasn’t you. You don’t need to be sorry about anything.”

  As I said it, I realized with bittersweet sadness that it was exactly what Carson said to me. I heaved in a sighing breath.

  “Now,” I said, sniffing. “How about we go and play hide and seek? Hey?” I ruffled Josh’s hair. I was glad to see a sudden shine return to their eyes.

  “Hurray!” Cayley said brightly.

  “Can we play in the attic? Please, auntie?”

  “Okay,” I agreed, knowing that Brett would disapprove and not caring at that moment. They didn’t need to face the strain of the adults around them fighting and getting stressed. If playing in the attic was a distraction, I was there for it.

  “Hurray!” Josh yelled. He was already running for the stairs. “I know the best hiding place! You won’t guess ever!”

  I laughed. “You want to bet?”

  “All my chocolate dollars!” he shouted the challenge down to me. I laughed.

  “Well, I’ll bet all mine too,” I agreed heartily. I didn’t actually own any chocolate dollars, but perhaps Lidl stocked them. I’d make a plan.

  As we all raced up to the attic, laughing and excited, I felt my sadness for Carson lift, though my chest still ached.

  I think a part of me will always be crying for you.

  I sighed. I would have to deal with that. Right now I had two excited kids and a bet to contend with. Everything else could wait.

  “On your marks…get set….we’re off! I’m counting…”

  As I went through the familiar ritual of counting, slowly and increasingly menacingly, to ten, I found my mind reliving that moment at the table. That moment when the guard went down and we realized, categorically, that we still loved each other.

  “Oh, Carson,” I whispered to myself. I wish I could tell you how much I love you. How desperately my body still longs for you.

  But how could I tell him, when he didn’t want to know about it? Sniffing determinedly, I bit my lip.

  “Okay! Here I come…ready or not!”

  I launched myself into the game with enthusiasm, determined that, for the rest of the day—for the rest of the visit—I was going to make Carson Grant mine.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Carson

  I went upstairs and shut the door. I curled up on the bed. Overhead, I could clearly hear Amelia running around in the attic with the kids. I covered my ears with my hands, trying to blot out the noise, the laughter, the excited squeals.

  She’s so good. So sweet. So loving. Oh, God! I love her so much. I hate this.

  I closed my eyes tight, wishing I was anywhere but here. Why had I agreed to come here, to put myself through this? Of all the hardships I had faced, seeing Amelia and knowing I couldn’t have her was one of the worst.

  Well, now she knows. She’s seen how I am now. She probably pities me.

  I let out a shaky breath. I was ashamed of her seeing me debilitated, I told myself. I was glad too, though—or I should be. Now she knew I wasn’t the strong, arrogant, confident guy I had been. I was a broken man; a man who curled up under the table when he heard a loud noise.

  “She thinks you’re pathetic, Grant.”

  I used the words like a whip, scourging myself with them. Perhaps if I repeated it enough times I would numb myself to the pain of it, make myself hardened against it.

  I was not going to think about that kiss. The way her body melted to me. The way her plump, moist lips parted, letting me slide in. The taste of her—peaches and sugar. I wouldn’t let myself think about how delicious and wonderful she was. My body was already aroused and I groaned, feeling my loins twitch with need.

  Amelia Carlyle, you torture me.

  She had always been like that; those teasing blue eyes, high, full breasts; playful expression. She alw
ays made me want her so much it was stupid. I would have crawled through the coals to get to that sweetness, to feel her on my body. But that didn’t matter now. I couldn’t have her. I couldn’t inflict her with myself.

  “I won’t do it.”

  The temptation was so strong, though. I couldn’t deny it. I needed her. I needed her so much it hurt.

  How can I even think this, when I can’t even bear to let her see me?

  I sighed. I was embarrassed about her having seen me in that state—I couldn’t help it. If I was thinking straight, what I would do was go and apologize. As soon as they were finished in the attic, that was what I would do. I sat up. My head hurt. The mirror showed me a man with eyes swollen from tears, my face a mess.

  “Well, I can’t go up there looking like this.”

  I went through to the bathroom opposite my room and took a long hot shower. When I got out, some of the swelling in my face and eyes had gone down a bit. Good.

  I heard the front door open, and my best friend Brett’s voice.

  “Hey, everyone! We’re back! Where are you?”

  Amelia’s voice replied from the landing. “We’re in my room. Making decorations for the tree!”

  “Yes! I’m making stars, Daddy!”

  “I’m making a elephant!”

  I rolled my eyes, chuckling. Josh had a great imagination. I shrugged on a good shirt and looked out of the window, noticing it was already dark outside. I guessed it to be about 5:00 p.m.

  “Carson?” Brett called. “Where are you? We were just about to get the fire going. Want to help?”

  “Sure,” I called, feeling nervous. I straightened my back and marched down the stairs, glad that Amelia was still in her room. I still felt awkward and didn’t want to catch her eye. I still needed to apologize. I still wanted her.

  As I thought about her, I felt my groin lurch and I bit my lip, straining against the feeling.

  “Coming, Brett,” I called. My voice strained and I coughed. “Let’s make a competition. I bet my fire will burn slower.”

  “You bastard,” Brett said affectionately. “You’re on.”

  We chuckled. I went into the sitting room to bank up the fire. It was something I was good at. I knew mine would outlast Brett’s, which was the only reason I bet it. He came in to watch me.

  “We thought of having fish tonight. That work for you?”

  “Sure,” I grunted, settling a last log in place and sitting back to survey my handiwork. “That looks right, yeah?”

  Brett shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  I slitted my eyes at him and chuckled. “You just want to win, bro.”

  “I always want to win,” Brett said lightly. “Seldom happens, though.”

  We both laughed and he led me through to the kitchen for a beer.

  I didn’t get a chance to see Amelia on her own after that. First, Brett and Reese drew me into a long conversation about bungalows, and then, when Amelia came down, the kids trooping behind her, it was almost time for dinner.

  It was after we’d finished eating that she yawned and said she’d need to go upstairs to finalize some report or other. I waited until she’d gone and then excused myself.

  “Sorry, guys. I just remembered I had to make a call. Excuse me.”

  “Sure,” Reese said, looking sleepy. She was sitting with Josh on her knee, Cayley making a puzzle on the floor behind us. Brett was on his laptop again.

  I went upstairs feeling my hands suddenly sweat with nervousness. I wasn’t going to make a call, of course. I was going to speak to Amelia. To say sorry.

  I reached the landing and headed left, to where her bedroom was. Listened for a while. I could hear no sounds coming out and so, my breath tight in my chest, I knocked on the door.

  “Hello?” she called through the wood. “Come in.”

  I opened the door. She was sitting on her bed in her nightgown. It clung to her sweet curves and my loins caught fire.

  “Uh, Amelia,” I said, my voice tight. “I…I’m sorry. I just wanted to say…to tell you…” I dried up. My mind was blank, heart thumping. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Come in,” she said gently.

  I did so, trembling. I shut the door behind me. I didn’t want to share this with everyone. I also didn’t want to move from where I was, for fear of what my rising need would make me do. I leaned on the door and faced her, groin aching.

  “Amelia,” I said softly. “I wanted to say sorry. And to thank you for being so nice. So understanding.” My voice caught and I cleared my throat. I found myself looking into her eyes.

  She blinked, and those big blue eyes misted up. “Oh, Carson,” she said softly. “You don’t need to say sorry. Not for anything.”

  I walked forward as she stood up. Her arms came around me and her lips moved to mine. I gasped and held her and my tongue slid into her sweet lips and my fingers felt her soft hair. It was as if we had never been apart. We were young and we were lovers and all that mattered was that we wanted each other.

  My hands traced her back and she moved back and looked into my eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  I kissed her again, hungrily this time. Her moist pink lips parted and allowed my tongue to thrust in. I tensed and felt her sigh against me. My body pulsed with want. “Amelia,” I said, blinded with longing, as we drew apart.

  “Carson.”

  She looked very much as I felt. Her lips were sweetly parted, her eyes dazed. Her pupils were big and wide and her cheeks burned. I could feel a corresponding urgency rising in me. I looked at her body, dressed with casual elegance in the satin-soft shift. Her curves were sweet—high, firm breasts and a narrow waist. Her cleavage just showing at the neck of the gown. It was white, and the color suited her. “You’re stunning.” I breathed.

  She blushed.

  I knew what her body looked like. I knew the pale skin, the softness of it, the wide nipples, the way it felt to be inside her. Somehow my body remembered those pleasure though a decade had gone past. I gripped her in my arms, fingers hot and eager as I slid them under the sweater, stroking her back. She moaned so sweetly that I had to grit my teeth as my loins tensed. I breathed in her scent, struggling for calm. My fingers slid lower and then around, my hands cupping her breasts through the lacy bra. I unfastened it and slid my hands beneath the chest band, wincing with tingling desire as I felt her nipples hard in my hands.

  She was gasping and I could see she wanted it almost as much as I did. The fact astonished me. My body didn’t stop to think about it, though, and neither did I.

  I leaned hungrily against her, my mouth exploring that sweet pink moistness once again as I stroked her hair and whispered in her ear how much I needed her.

  She nodded and pressed her body against mine. “Yes, Carson,” she murmured. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” I thought I might die of longing as we moved, quick as we could muster, over to the bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Amelia

  My mind was full of nothing but Carson. This close, his body pressed to mine, my nose filled with his scent and my heart thudded, slowly as he stroked the skin of my back.

  I had forgotten how gentle and strong his hands were, how they clung, just a little, as if each part of me were precious as silk. I leaned against him and moaned as his mouth moved gently over mine.

  I had just showered and was dressed in my new nightgown, a soft cotton slip all that stood between me and the soft cotton of the gown. When my body leaned against his, I could feel his lean hardness pressed to me and my arms tensed, drawing him closer.

  He moaned and I felt a tightness in his lower body, pressing myself against the bulge in his pants. Suddenly, my need was all-consuming and I reached up, stroking a hand through his hair.

  “Carson,” I murmured.

  “Amelia!”

  It was a low whisper, full of urgency. We kissed again. Then, abruptly, we were on the bed. I leaned into him and his body pressed to mine. I found myself lying on my back, lookin
g up at the ceiling, as his hands stroked my body with a slow urgency.

  “Yes,” I moaned. “Oh, yes.”

  He sat back and his hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. I reached up and joined him, unfastening them with fevered wanting. My own hand was shaking and his was too. That surprised me. I wrapped my body around his, sitting behind him, my arms holding him loosely as my fingers struggled with the shirt. He chuckled.

  “Oh, baby. You make me want you.”

  I smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I want you, Carson Grant.”

  I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything before. Suddenly, all restraint was gone. Our hands tore at our clothing. I moaned as he pressed me back onto the bed and his hands moved over me. The gown was gone, torn away in one firm yank by his strong hands. Lying on my back, wearing only a silky-soft shift, I looked into his eyes.

  “Carson,” I murmured.

  “Amelia.”

  His lips were hungry on mine, his tongue warm and thick and mobile as it pressed between my lips, plundering my mouth with delicious urgency. My whole body responded and I leaned back, wanting to give myself to him. His hands slid down my body, moving the straps.

  He kissed my neck and then moved lower. My body tensed as he sampled my breast. I groaned and tipped my head back as he cupped one breast and licked the other. He looked into my eyes.