Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice trembling, searching his face for a sign of trouble —Jason, Sara, us.
He smiles tenderly and leans closer, his hand finding mine under the duvet, his fingers warm, achingly familiar. “Everything’s fine,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my knuckles, a touch that sends a shiver through me. “I just… needed to see you and say….” His eyes hold mine, intense, and before I can respond, he leans in, his lips brushing my forehead, then my cheek, soft kisses that feel like sunlight breaking through fog. My eyes flutter closed, my heart swelling, and I lean into him, greedy for his warmth, his affection a balm to the ache I’ve carried since he left my bed.
His lips find mine, a gentle, lingering kiss, not the desperate hunger of last night, but something sweeter, deeper, a promise that steals my breath. “Good morning,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice rough with emotion, and I smile, my lips tingling, my body alive under his touch.
“Good morning,” I whisper back, my voice soft, shaky. I pull back and meet his eyes, searching for regret, for doubt, but all I see is raw, unguarded, real emotion. My chest tightens, the memories of last night rushing in—the way we crossed every line. I should be drowning in guilt but I’m not, not when he’s looking at me like this. Not when I’ve waited for so long. Suffered. Endured. I’m a victim too.
A victim of a horrendous lie.
He shifts, his hand still holding mine, and his expression turns serious, his brow furrowing. “Amelia,” he says, his voice low and urgent, “about last night… I’m not going to apologize. I’m not sorry for making love to you. I could never be sorry for that. Not even if the punishment was boiling oil thrown on me. Tell me if I’ve made you feel dirty, or if I’ve tainted you. If I’ve done that, then I’ll apologize, I’ll beg for forgiveness.”
His words crack me open. I shake my head, my throat tight, tears prickling at the edges of my eyes. The truth burns in my chest—he’s not my brother, not bound by Dad’s lie—but I can’t tell him, not when it risks hurting Jason.
I squeeze his hand, my fingers trembling, and take a breath, steadying myself. “Don’t torture yourself, Max. I don’t feel dirty. I don’t regret it at all. Last night was…” I pause, my cheeks flushing, the memory of his body on mine sparking heat low in my belly. “Everything I’ve wanted for so long.”
His eyes widen, a flicker of hope, and I push forward, the words spilling out, reckless but true. “I’ve been thinking, Max. Sara’s gone for two weeks, and no one’s here but Jason, you and me. What if… what if we let ourselves have this? What if we tell Maria and the maids not to come in. You can cook, and I’ll clean. Just these two weeks. And we’ll be together, really together, like we always wanted. No one needs to know—it’ll be our secret, like all the secrets we kept that summer. When Sara comes back, we stop. We go back to being… family.” My voice cracks on the word, a lie I’m forcing myself to live, and I swallow hard, my heart pounding. “I’ve never known another man, Max. I couldn’t. It’s always been you. So let’s have this time, and then we let it go. One more secret, just for us.”
He stares at me, his jaw slack, his eyes dark with awe, with love, and something like disbelief. His hand tightens on mine, his thumb tracing circles, and he shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping, raw and reverent.
“Amelia, you’re incredible,” he says thickly. “I was just thinking the same thing, so I sent the staff away this morning—Maria, Lisa, all of them. Even the gardeners. Two weeks paid vacation. It’s just us now, you, me, and Jason. This house is ours, and I want every second of these two weeks with you. No apologies, no regrets, just us.”
My heart leaps, a wild, reckless joy flooding me, and I laugh, a soft, shaky sound that feels like release. “You already sent them away?” I ask, my voice filled with astonishment and disbelief, and he nods, his smile boyish, the same grin from that summer, and it’s like we’re kids again, stealing moments in the attic.
“All of them,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “I’m going to work from home. So we’ve got this time, Amelia. Just us.”
I lean forward, unable to stop myself, and kiss him, my lips crashing into his, hungry and fierce, a seal on our pact. His hands find my face, cupping my cheeks, his fingers tangling in my hair, and the kiss deepens, his tongue sweeping mine, a heat that consumes me. It’s not like last night’s desperation—this is a vow, a promise of two weeks to live the love we’ve buried. I pull back, breathless, my forehead resting against his, our breath mingling, warm and unsteady.