Page 122 of The Wedding Menu

“Holy shit, Amelie.” His eyes open, sweet and blue and so full of affection, they overwhelm me in the best possible way. “I planned to do a lot more, you know.”

“Did you?” I ask. My muscles are stiff, the sweat sticking to my skin, making me shiver as my body cools down.

“Mm-hmm.” Tightening his hold on my hair, he grins with self-satisfaction. “I’m hardly discouraged, but I was planning to do morebeforeneeding some recovery time.”

With a chuckle, I reach out for his face, but when I lean forward for a kiss, his hand keeps me in place, my hair lightly pulled back.

“Amelie,” he says in a rush, his tongue wetting his lips. “The way you feel when you come with my cock deep inside you…” He leans forward to whisper in my ear. “You make me powerless. You own me.”

My fingers squeeze his shoulders.

“Look what you did to me.”

He gently pulls my hair until my face is tilted down; then, with his other hand, he maneuvers my hips up. His cock slides out, quickly followed by gushes of his cum. I whimper, the sight of it so erotic and filthy, I could start again this minute.

“You like that?” he asks in a breathy voice as more of his pleasure spills out of me. His fingers slide through my folds, all the way to my clit, and my body arches as I gasp. “You like it when I fill you up, beautiful?”

“Yes,” I whimper.

“Good. I like it too.” He smiles, then whispers, “How about I clean you up in the shower, then I throw you back on this bed and mess you up all over again?”

I nod, my heart drumming, and force myself not to ask him if cleaning up is reallythatnecessary.

“Okay.” He helps me up, pulling me close for a kiss, then a second one, then a third one that turns into a full make-out session. Slowly, we make our way into the bathroom, and once we’re both in the small shower and under a jet of hot water, his hands rest on my back, mine on his chest. His hands cup my cheeks, my hands grasp his arms, and there’s a soft look in his eyes that makes me shiver. His hair is darker, sticking to his forehead as it becomes wet, and in the warm fog, covered by droplets of water, he’s as gorgeous as ever.

For a second, as he rubs his thumb on my wet skin and smiles, I think I hear him say it. Say that he loves me, that he treasures me, that he’ll never let me go.

But he doesn’t, and just as beautifully as it appeared, his smile tragically dies. “Amelie, I…”

My hands flinch away as my heart squeezes.

He’s about to reject me. He’ll say that though the sex was amazing—and it undoubtedly was for both of us—it can’t happen again, and what he said about wanting it to be more than one night was just the result of his passion.

It’ll break my heart. I knew it was a lie when I told him I could handle a night of casual sex with him, of course. But I figuredsomething was better than nothing. And it was, except that now he’ll…

“Hey, hey.” His fingers graze my neck. With a gentle pull, our bodies stick together again and my forehead drops against his perfect pecs as tears run down my face and mix with the water. It’s not fair that I’d start crying, that I’d make him feel guilty for doing what he said he would and giving me what he promised. But I can’t stop.

The thought that this will never happen again is the final blow—the blow that has my spark fading into nothingness. It’s the final confirmation that Ian is another thing I’ve lost.

“Why are you crying, beautiful?”

“Because you’re about to dump me,” I whisper.

His arms tighten around me, his lips planting kisses on the top of my head. “No, Amelie. No dumping, I promise.”

Daring to look up at his face, I see the sincerity of his words, the gravity of his gaze. Maybe he’s not about to dump me, but he has something to say. I can see it. “Then what is it?” I breathe.

He swallows, doubt moving through his eyes. As if he’s considering whether he truly should say whatever is on his mind. In a second, my fear ripples, my mind zeroing on the one, most terrifying possibility.

What if he asks about my restaurant? What if he figures out there’s a secret I’ve been keeping from him, and it involves his father?

“I think… I think I need to know about Frank. I need to know what happened.”

Oh. Frank. That’s it—he just wants to know about my ex. I let out a deep sigh. Though it’s not exactly my favorite topic, he deserves to get the full story, and I’m just so relieved I get to keep my secret buried for another day. If I can help it, I’ll hide it forever.

When I look up at the dark blue spots in his eyes, they look likedeep oceans surrounded by shallow waters. “All right, so the last time you and I talked—”

“Please, spare me the painful recap. Just tell me what happened after.”

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