Chapter 266 Adapting

Amelia's POV:

The doctor continued discussing various recommendations, supplements, and lifestyle adjustments before leaving us with a folder of information to review. After seeing him out, Luke returned to find me staring out the window, lost in thought.

"You okay?" he asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

I leaned back against his chest. "I'm fine. Just thinking about what he said."

"We don't have to rush this," Luke assured me.

"I'm going to call Vivian tomorrow," I said decisively, turning to face him. "But not to quit acting."

His eyebrows rose in question.

"I'm going to restructure my career," I explained. "I've been taking on too many action-heavy roles that require me to stay underweight. I want to be more selective—maybe one film a year, contemporary dramas where I can have a healthier, fuller figure."

Luke's eyes softened. "Are you sure? You've worked so hard to get where you are."

"I'm not giving up my career," I said with determination. "I'm adapting it. Besides, I've been wanting to focus more on expanding Sweet Amber into a chain. The three branches we've opened are all performing above projections, and my management team has proven they can handle daily operations beautifully."

"Sounds like you've been thinking about this for a while," Luke observed.

I nodded. "I have. Acting was partly about proving something to myself—that I could succeed in that world. But now I want to build something lasting, something that's truly mine." I looked up at him. "And I want to create our family together, without sacrificing everything else I've worked for."

Luke's hands traced the curve of my face. "I love that plan. And I want to help with the Sweet Amber expansion. Carter Group has retail space in several prime locations."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You have so much on your plate already."

"This is important to you, which makes it important to me," he said simply. "Besides, I know a good investment when I see one. Sweet Amber has all the elements for success—exceptional products, loyal customers, and a brilliant owner."

I smiled at the compliment. "I've also been thinking... being a female entrepreneur with a growing business might be a better example for Sophia and Lucas than always chasing the next big role."

"They're already incredibly proud of you," Luke assured me. "We all are."

"So no quitting—just adapting," I said, feeling lighter already. "I'll talk to Vivian about seeking roles that align better with our family plans. She'll understand."

"And I'll have my team look into potential locations for the next Sweet Amber," Luke added. "We'll make this work, Amelia. Together."

That evening, after taking a hot shower, I dried my hair and slipped into my comfortable pajamas.

That evening, after taking a hot shower, I dried my hair and slipped into my comfortable pajamas.

"So how did Vivian take the news?" Luke asked as I climbed into bed beside him.

I let out a dramatic sigh. "She made dying whale noises for thirty seconds, then tried to convince me I was throwing away my career."

Luke chuckled. "That sounds like Vivian."

"When I wouldn't budge, she switched tactics. Offered me this action franchise where I'd basically live on protein shakes and stunt wires for the next five years."

"What did you tell her?" Luke's fingers began tracing patterns on my arm.

"That I'd rather make babies than blockbusters." I grinned as Luke nearly choked laughing. "Her exact response was 'Fine, have your cake business and babies, but don't call me when some twenty-year-old takes your spot.'"

"Very supportive," Luke said dryly.

"By the end, she somehow spun my decision into a marketing strategy. Called it my 'work-life balance rebrand' and said it was 'very zeitgeisty.'"

Luke pulled me closer. "Are you sure you're happy with this decision? No regrets?"

"None." I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palm. "This feels right."

"You know," he murmured against my hair, "we can't let all this preparation go to waste."

I glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

His lips curved into a smile that sent heat coursing through me. "I mean, if you're taking time off work, changing your routine, and I'm giving up my occasional scotch... we should make sure it's worth it."

I turned in his arms to face him fully. "And how do you suggest we do that, Mr. Carter?"

"Practice," he whispered, his lips brushing against mine. "Lots and lots of practice."

I laughed softly, but the sound caught in my throat as his hand slid beneath my silk nightgown. "The doctor said we shouldn't even try for a couple of months."

"I know," Luke's voice deepened as his fingers traced a path up my thigh. "But that doesn't mean we can't practice the technique."

My body responded instantly to his touch, all thoughts of doctors and schedules evaporating. "Always the perfectionist," I teased, already breathless.

"Only with things that matter," he replied, his eyes darkening as he lowered his mouth to mine.

As our kisses grew more urgent, I marveled at how different this felt—not just passionate, but purposeful. Every touch, every whispered word between us carried the weight of possibility, of creation. This wasn't just desire; it was the beginning of something new.

Luke's hands moved with confident precision, each caress drawing me closer to the edge of control. When he finally pulled me beneath him, his weight a welcome anchor, I felt my heart swell with emotions I couldn't even name.

"I love you," he whispered against my neck, the words vibrating through my skin and settling deep in my core.

"Show me," I breathed, pulling him closer.

Luke's hand slid up my arm, his low chuckle igniting a flush across my cheeks as he leaned closer, eyes glinting with intent.

My heart stuttered, shy nerves sparking under his gaze, but I couldn't look away. He pulled me against him, his warmth seeping through my nightgown, and I fumbled with his shirt, face burning as I bared his chest. His fingers lifted my hem, stripping me gently, and I shivered, too embarrassed to meet his eyes as we lay bare.

He parted my thighs, his cock thick and firm against me, and my blush deepened, pulse racing at my slick folds, wet with need. I bit my lip, mortified by my own heat, as his fingers grazed my clit, a jolt making me gasp. He pressed closer, filling me with a steady, stretching surge that drew a soft whimper, my hands clutching his shoulders, cheeks aflame.

The bed shifted with his thrusts—slow, then urgent—my pussy tightening around him, pulsing with each grind.

I arched, nails scraping his back, too shy to face him as my clit throbbed, heat coiling fast. My breath caught, pleasure snapping as I trembled, a muffled cry escaping while I clenched tight, shaking. His rhythm broke; he groaned, low and rough, pulling out at the last second, his cock spilling hot across my stomach, slick and warm, his body shuddering above me.

Panting, I buried my red face in his chest, heart pounding with love and bashfulness.