Page 39 of Dark Christmas
It’s been quiet the last few weeks. No signs of the assassin, no threats, no suspicious movements. I’ve been watching her house, the bakery, checking in on her multiple times a day from a distance, making sure everything’s still locked down. The silence almost feels unnatural, like the calm before the storm.
I know the assassin hasn’t forgotten. He hasn’t given up. He’s waiting. Biding his time.
And the longer this goes on, the harder it’s getting to imagine a life without her in it.
I hear footsteps and look up to see Amelia standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Damn, she looks good.
She’s still in her work clothes—a pair of tight, dark jeans that hug her hips just right, and a white T-shirt so thin I can see the outline of her bra underneath. The sight of her makes my pulse quicken and my cock stirs to life at the way she’s so effortlessly sexy.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” she says, her voice playful. “Dinner smells too good.”
I smile, nodding toward the table. “Sit. It’s ready.”
She comes into the room and takes a seat at the table while I ladle stew into two bowls.
Amelia watches me with those sharp, bright eyes as I pull the loaf of bread out of the oven, its crust crackling in the heat. I cut two thick slices, setting them on plates with a small dish of butter on the side. I can’t help but enjoy this small domestic moment, even though my mind’s been tangled with conflicting thoughts all day.
She smiles, and for a second it feels like this situation—us—is something more than just temporary.
That’s because it has to be for her sake.At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
After a few bites, Amelia’s face lights up. “God, this is amazing, Melor. Your cooking might actually inspire me to try some new things out in the bakery. Maybe I’ll add a few soups to the menu.” She grins, clearly pleased with the idea.
I smirk, enjoying her reaction. “That could work well, especially in the cooler months. It might help bring in a bigger lunchcrowd. How’s everything going there, by the way?”
Her expression shifts, just slightly, and I can see her tense up. She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “It’s fine.”
I set my spoon down, watching her carefully. “What’s wrong?”
She sighs, her shoulders slumping a bit. “It’s just hard to relax with, well, you know, everything that’s going on.”
I’ve watched her carry this weight for weeks, the constant worry she tries to hide. “I get it. I’ll solve this mess soon, and you’ll be able to get back to your normal life.”
She gives me a small smile, but I can see the tension still lingering. After a beat, she looks at me, a little hesitation in her eyes. “So, Claire has seen you dropping me off and picking me up every day. She’s grilling me about you. She wants to have us over for dinner at their place.”
I pause, surprised by the proposal. “That sounds like a great idea.”
Her entire face lights up with the biggest, brightest smile, and I feel something inside me shift. I lean over the table, catching her lips in a kiss. She melts into it, and her smile widens as I pull away.
“You know, I’m suddenly not so hungry for food anymore.”
Chapter 20
Amelia
Melor pounces on me like a damn predator, pulling me up from my chair and lifting me up onto the kitchen bar.The cool surface of the bar sends a shiver up my spine as my bare skin touches it. I let out a surprised laugh as he presses his body against mine, his lips brushing my neck.
“Still covered in flour from work, I see.” His hands are already working on the button of my jeans.
I smirk, biting my lip. “I am. And you’re about to be covered in it, too.”
He grins, slowly tugging my jeans down, just enough to expose me to his touch. His fingers trail over my bare skin, sending a shiver through me as he leans in close. "Mmm," he growls, his voice thick with heat, "I bet your pussy's even sweeter than those treats that you bake."
Oh. My. God.
My breath catches, my entire body lighting up with a sudden, intense heat. I can feel myself getting wetter, the anticipation driving me wild.
His fingers slip under the waistband of my panties, teasing me, rubbing slowly and deliberately. My back arches, and I grip the edge of the bar, trying to keep myself together, but he’s driving me insane.