Chapter 69 Tender Moments
AMELIA
After the driver left with Elena, I stood in the entrance hall, still smiling.
"Thank you," I said, turning toward where I'd heard Jeremy close the door. "For bringing her here."
"Of course." His footsteps came closer. "You should have friends. People who care about you for you, not because of—" He paused. "Not because of me or the Family or any of this."
"Elena's a good person."
"She is. And she clearly cares about you." His warm hand found my arm "Amelia?"
"Yeah?"
"Come to my room. Have dinner with me. Properly. Not in the kitchen or the dining room. Just—" He stopped. "Just us."
My heart skipped. "Okay."
He led me through the wing. Down the hallway I knew by heart now. To his bedroom.
I heard him moving around. Setting up something near the window.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"There's a small table by the window. I had Maria prepare dinner for us. Pasta and wine."
"That sounds perfect."
He guided me to a chair. I heard him sit across from me. The clink of plates being arranged.
"Here." He placed my hand on the plate so I could feel where everything was. "Pasta at six o'clock. Bread at three. Wine glass at one."
I smiled. "You're getting good at this."
"At what?"
"At helping me navigate. Most people either do too much or too little. You do just right."
"I pay attention to things." His voice was soft. "To what you need. What makes things easier."
We ate in comfortable silence. The pasta was delicious. The wine was smooth. But more than the food, I was aware of his presence. The way he moved. The sounds of his breathing. His occasional comments about the view from his window—describing it in detail so I could picture it.
"The city lights are starting to come on," he said. "All these tiny points of gold against the darkness. There are like stars but not natural. It's man-made. But still beautiful."
"Tell me more." I said shoving a fork in my mouth.
So he did. He described the skyline. The way headlights moved like streams of light on the highways below. The moon rising over the distant buildings.
He painted pictures with words. For me, because I couldn't see them.
"Thank you," I said when he finished. "For that. For—making me see it."
"Anytime."
After dinner, he showed me to his bathroom. "There are spare clothes in the closet. Help yourself. Toothbrush is in the cabinet—left side, second shelf."
"Jeremy?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I—" I hesitated. "Can I borrow something of yours? To sleep in?"
"Of course. Drawer on the right, there should be T-shirts."
I found one—soft cotton, smelling like him. I changed out of my clothes and into it. The shirt hung to my mid-thigh, oversized and comfortable.
I brushed my teeth with the spare toothbrush he'd mentioned. While washing my face, I tried to calm my racing heart.
I was staying the night. In his room. In his bed.
After last night, it shouldn't feel so significant. But it did.
Because last night had been about desire. About finally giving in to what we'd both wanted.
Tonight felt different. Quieter, and more intimate, somehow.
I made my way back to the bedroom. Found Jeremy already in bed—I could hear the rustling of sheets as he moved over.
"Come here," he said softly.
I felt my way to the bed. Climbed in. Felt his arms wrap around me immediately, pulling me against his chest.
Safe. I felt safe here.
His hand stroked down my back. Slow. Soothing. Then his hand started going lower.
"Wait." I caught his hand. "I'm—I'm still sore. From last night."
His hand stilled immediately. "Cristo. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's normal, right? For the first time?" My face heated. "I just think maybe we should wait, for a day or two."
"Of course. Of course we'll wait." He shifted, moved so I was lying more comfortably against the pillows. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He appologised.
"It's fine. I just—"
"No, it's not fine. You should have said something this morning. I would have—" He stopped. "I'll get you something. For the soreness. And next time I'll be more careful."
"Next time?" I smiled despite myself.
"There's going to be a next time, right?" He asked, his voice held uncertainty, and vulnerability. "Unless you—unless last night was—"
"There's going to be a next time," I said firmly. "I just need—a little recovery time."
"Okay. Good." He settled beside me, keeping his hands carefully above my waist. "Is this okay? Me holding you?"
"Yes. This is perfect."
We lay there in silence for several minutes. His breathing evening out. His warmth surrounding me.
Then: "Amelia?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I—" He paused. "This is going to sound strange. But can I—can I just..." Another pause. Longer this time. "Never mind. It's stupid."
"What is it?" I asked with interest.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
"Jeremy." I turned to face him. "What is it?"
Silence. Then, quietly: "Can I...can I suckle? While I fall asleep?"
I blinked. "You want to...what?"
"I know it's strange. I just want to..." He sounded embarrassed. Uncertain. "When I'm stressed, when I can't sleep, I sometimes..." He stopped. "You don't have to. It's fine. Forget I asked."
"No, I—" I processed what he was asking. "You mean my breast?"
"Yes. But like I said, it's fine"
"Okay." I said.
"What?" He asked suprised.
"Okay. You can." I settled back against the pillows. "If it helps you sleep. If you need it."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
I felt him shift. I felt his hand carefully lift the hem of the t-shirt I'd borrowed.
Then his mouth. Warm, and gentle. Taking my nipple between his lips.
It wasn't sexual. Or it was, but it was also—something else. Something tender. Vulnerable. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with desire.
He suckled softly. His hand resting on my ribs. His breathing slowing, then deepening.
I lay there, my hand in his hair, and felt something shift in my chest.
This was—trust. Complete trust. He was showing me a vulnerability, a need that had nothing to do with strength or control or power.
This is just comfort. Safety, and peace.
My hand stroked through his hair, soothing him. Like maternal almost, which was strange because there was nothing maternal about our relationship.
But this moment—this quiet, tender moment—it was different from the passion of last night.
This was intimacy of a different kind.
After about fifteen minutes, his breathing had completely evened out. Deep, and regular. He's asleep.
His mouth had gone slack around me but he hadn't pulled away.
I lay there, Jeremy asleep against me, and I felt gulity.
Because tomorrow, I was meeting Alex. For shooting lessons, behind Jeremy's back.
While he was at work, trusting me to stay in the wing, I'd be sneaking out to meet a Volkov.
The same Volkov he'd warned me about. The same family that was their enemy.
And Jeremy is kind, protective, had no idea.
I should cancel. Should text Alex right now and tell him I couldn't make it.
But—
I wanted to learn. I wanted that skill. I wanted something that was mine. Some way to protect myself that didn't depend on Jeremy or his men or his guns.
I wanted independence, and power
Even if getting it meant lying to the man currently asleep in my arms.
Even if it meant betraying his trust.
I can handle the consequences, I told myself. When he finds out—and he will find out eventually, and I'll explain. I'll make him understand. I'll deal with whatever comes.
Right now, I was going to hold him. Let him sleep peacefully. Enjoy this moment of tenderness.