Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,88
his loss. But how can you miss someone who isn’t gone yet?
I crane my neck and look back, searching his eyes for something, anything else, but he gives me nothing. I take it as dismissal of any other possible feelings. So I bottle up my own and tuck them deep down inside me, praying fervently they won’t rise to the surface any time soon. Or at least until he’s gone.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
He offers me a gentle smile. He turns the lamp off then settles in behind me, folding me into his arms. I sink into his embrace, tucked in with the knowledge that I may never sleep in his arms again. Even though we’ve done this countless times, there’s a dark cloud hanging over us.
Or, well, me.
The room’s silent save for the sound of distant thunder and rain pattering against my bedroom window. I’ve been so focused on Knox that I haven’t been bothered by the storm raging outside. For the first time since my parents died, it doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing compared to the hurricane battering my heart.
My therapist will have a field day with this one, and even though I know I shouldn’t ignore the implications, I do. I can’t examine why he makes me feels safer than I’ve felt in years. I know if I do, I won’t be able to let him go.
And I have to. Even if it kills me.
Knox must sense my restlessness. He coaxes me until I’m facing him. A sturdy hand palms my cheek, and I turn into it, basking in his warmth. He claims my mouth in a long, drugging kiss, his tongue seductive and searching until he finds his target. Hot moisture springs in my eyes, and as Knox starts to pull away, I push him onto his back and shimmy down the bed to take him into my mouth. The harsh rush of breath heightens my arousal. I take my time staking my own claim.
All’s fair in love sex and war, right?
If I’m wreckage, I want Knox in ruin before he walks away.
For the rest of the night, we’re wrapped up in each other. Gone is the frenetic need of earlier. We’re slow and sweet. Sensual and possessive. Greedily devouring each other until we’re so far gone that I don’t know where I end and Knox begins.
There are no words other than whispered reverence.
There’s no room for conversation. There’s nothing left to say.
We let our bodies do the talking.
Unfortunately, his body language doesn’t convey what I desperately long to hear. What I’m too terrified to say myself.
Morning comes far too quickly. If I thought I’d poured my entire soul into making love to Amelia the night before, she gets all my desperation this morning. In return, I get hers. We’re frantic, tearing at each other with intense need, knowing that this is our last time. Our last moments.
After this, our connection’s severed and there’s no going back.
I’m at home between her thighs. There’s unrelenting torment at the thought that I may never come here again. Experience this, her, again. Yet I can’t voice it. I don’t know how. And Amelia? She’s been silent since our bodies joined for the last time.
We linger in bed far longer than I should. I need to get to back to Nashville. Back to reality. A reality I’m not so sure I want anymore. At least, not alone.
Amelia’s the first to rise. The profound loss of her cuts me to the core. Acid burns low in my belly, and I struggle with what to say. I watch as she dresses in a pair of cotton shorts and a matching tank top, piling her thoroughly fucked hair up on the top of her head.
“Gonna miss waking up to this,” I admit.
She doesn’t look at me. Hell, her eyes roam around the room, glancing at everything except for me. She captures her lower lip, biting on it. Finally, her gaze lifts to mine and she gifts me with a smile and a wink. Seemingly unaffected.
That cuts deeper.
“Pretty sure you’ll forget all about me once you’re taking the reins in the boardroom,” she teases.
I’ve spent a summer basking in Amelia’s playful taunts.
Now, I despise it.
“Dad may be laid up, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when he actually hands over said reins.”
I instantly regret my words, feeling like a jackass because I still have my dad while she’s working through the trauma of losing hers.