"Other things I can’t say," I joke, kissing her lips and then moving the kisses to her cheek and then to her neck. The smell of lavender is still on her. “So many other things.”
She giggles, and it’s like music to my ears. Even more so, it’s hurting the fuck out of my cock that is restricted by my jeans. “Really?” She bends back to see my eyes, and I love the color of her eyes when she’s playful. They are a crystal blue, and in her left eye is one little speck of dark. "I’ve been thinking of other things also." I stop moving as I look at her. My hand drops from her neck, and we stand in front of each other. Her long tanned legs are on show, and when I saw her outfit tonight, it took everything in me not to cover her up. When she turned around to grab something, I made sure to stand in front of her, even though she was wearing my shirt around her waist and you couldn’t see anything.
"Amelia," I say her name in more of a plea, looking up at the ceiling.
"I’ve been thinking about …" She wraps her arms around my waist and kisses my neck softly. "About kissing you." She moves over to the other side of my neck and kisses me, driving me fucking mad. All I want to do is bury my hands in her hair and then drag her to the middle of the floor and have my way with her.
"I’m hanging on by a thread," I say, my hands on her hips to force her not to move any closer to me or else I’ll shoot off like a kid.
"Tell me what you're thinking about?" she asks, her voice so soft.
"That’s not fair." I look down at her.
"Why?" she asks, and her hands slide under the hem of my shirt, making me hiss.
"Because," I say, trying to focus on anything but the way her hands feel on me.
"Fine, I’ll go first," she says. "I want to kiss you in places no one can see."
I groan and take a step back as I look at her. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Tell me?" she whispers.
"You drive me crazy,” I finally huff out. "Kissing you is what I think about doing all day long." I put my hands on my hips. "All day, every day. I want to lay you down and kiss every single inch of you. I want to claim every single part of you. I want to put my mark on you so bad. I want to go out and know that under your clothes, you have my mark." I watch her eyes to see if it’s too much for her. I watch her eyes to see if she feels the same way I do. "I want to take you home and make love to you." I finally say the words I’ve been dying to say, my heart beating so loud it echoes in my ears. "That is what I’ve thought about. I want you, Amelia."
She looks at me, and then she blinks, and her hand comes up to wipe the tear before it runs down her face. My stomach sinks in fear that I’ve scared her in some way or another, so I reach out for her, cupping her face with my hands. "I’m sorry," I say, my thumbs rubbing her cheeks.
"No one …" she says and looks down, but I move her face up with my hands.
"Don’t hide from me," I say. "Whatever you do, don’t hide from me."
She starts over. "No one has ever said that to me." Her hand cups my cheek. "No one has ever wanted me that bad."
I kiss her lips softly. At this moment, nothing would stop me from kissing her. The fear seeps into my bones that there will come a time when she won’t want me. There will be a time when the rest of my baggage comes to light, and just knowing she won’t want me anymore is enough to crush my soul. But we have this, and this is our time. Everything from the outside is unimportant right now. For once in my fucking life, I’m going to do something for me. I’m selfish enough to know that what I’m taking will never be mine, but for today, for tonight, for next week, I’m going to pretend I’m just a man who wants a woman.
"Asher," she whispers.
"Yeah, baby?" I answer, and she smiles shyly.
"I like that you call me that," she admits, and I smile as she walks out of my arms.
I watch her walk to the stage, climbing on it and grabbing my phone. I watch her walk to the back as she goes into the office.
My whole body is on edge, thinking about what she is doing. Wondering if I pushed her too far and worried that she would look at me differently. She comes out with her purse in her hand, and the clicking of her cowboy boots on the floor echoes in the empty bar. She holds out her hand to me. "Take me home," she says, putting her hand in mine.