The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,58

mussing it where it’s pulled around her head. Her lips are parted, her cleavage rising and falling. Then I remember that she’s bare underneath her dress—her panties securely in my pocket. I’m tempted to lift her arms over her head and keep them there while I strip her. Instead, I force myself back to the task at hand. Amelia is letting herself be vulnerable with me. I’m not sure if I owe her the same, but the intimacy of the moment seems to call for it.

“All right,” I say. “There is something I’ve never told anyone and until now, never planned to.”

She tilts her head up a little bit. “What?”

I clear my throat, hesitating, but Amelia might actually be the right person to tell. Given her own views on children, she won’t judge me for it, and she won’t always be around to remind me I said it. “Every parent sometimes wonders what it would be like if they hadn’t had their kid,” I say. “That’s no secret.”

She nods.

“I never really felt that way. I mean, my life is pretty good. There’s this one thing that happens sometimes, though, and it drives me crazy. I’m pretty lucky Bell is clearly a Beckwith—she looks just like Sadie when she was Bell’s age. But occasionally she’ll make a face or say something a certain way or her body language . . . it’ll be exactly like Shana. And I get this gut reaction. Hate. Anger. For that moment, it’s directed at Bell, even though she’s innocent in all this.”

“That sounds normal,” she says. “I don’t think you’re alone in that.”

“Probably not. I don’t let Bell or anyone else see that reaction, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I feel so guilty after it passes.”

Amelia’s body has loosened considerably, and I don’t even think she notices. “Andrew, nobody would judge you for feeling that way. Imagine how many children look like ex-husbands or deceased wives, and how common—”

With my free hand, I slip the tie off her face. She blinks a few times as her pupils constrict. Her vision adjusts, and her eyes are unguarded, light.

“Still okay?” I ask.

She looks down at my hand around her wrists, how it binds them tightly together. “I think so,” she says.

“You’re okay.” I smile a little. “I shouldn’t have blindfolded you.”

“No,” she says quickly, glancing up. “It was fine, actually. It was . . . good.”

“I meant because I like to see your eyes,” I say and leave it at that so I don’t get sappy enough to send her running.

“Oh.” She takes a deep breath and smiles, albeit shyly. “So, were we going to . . . or is that it?”

“Believe me, we’re going to.” I release her hands. “But at least for tonight, I’ll let you see.”

She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Well, next time—”

She stops, but my imagination picks up immediately where she left off. What would next time be like? Amelia blindfolded on the bed? Or her hands bound behind her back, inviting my mouth to her tits? Maybe eventually, over time, she’d let me live out the entire fantasy—vision, touch, control, taste. All mine.

“Anyway,” she says, glancing to the side.

I pinch her chin and pull her face to mine, pecking her once on the lips. “Next time would be nice. I have your card.” Before she can object, because I know she will, I continue. “Let’s just worry about tonight. I still have loads more plans for you. But first,” I take my cell phone out of my breast pocket, “I need to be a daddy for a second.”

She blinks at me. “A daddy? Is that another . . . fantasy of yours?”

“God, no.” I grimace and as an afterthought, hold up my palms. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that if you’re into it—”

“No, I wasn’t saying—”

“It’s just that since I am a dad, it weirds me out—”

“Oh.” Her expression lightens, and she laughs a little. “You have to call Bell.”

“Just to say goodnight. It’ll only take a moment.”

“Of course,” she says, crossing and then uncrossing her arms. “I’m sure it means a lot to her.”

“And me. Putting her to bed—don’t get me wrong, it can be a struggle—but it’s one of my favorite parts of the day. She doesn’t go down easy, so I have to read to her or have her read to me—” I pause. Amelia’s eyes have glossed over. If it were any other person, dismissing Bell would piss me off, but