Stay with Me (With Me in Seattle 9)

“They haven’t come to fisticuffs yet,” I remind her and then smile when she narrows her eyes on me. “Seriously, you’re worrying for nothing.”

At that moment, we can hear laughter coming from outside, driving my point home.

“See?”

“I’m just all nervous,” she admits and rolls her shoulders. “I want your parents to like me.”

“They like you.” I lean in and kiss her neck, and she pulls away, making me frown.

“They could walk in any second.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” I kiss her neck again, and she doesn’t pull away this time. “This is my house, and I’m kissing the woman I love in it. I don’t have to explain myself to them.”

She melts against me as my mouth explores hers. My hands drift up under her shirt, and my fingertips glide gently over her ribcage, making her shiver.

“Are you loosening up yet?” I ask against her neck, and she squeezes my ass in response. “Kinky.”

She giggles. “I’m not kinky.”

I raise a brow. “No? What if I tied you to my bed and ate you out until you were a sweaty, quivering mess.”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Are you starting to feel better?”

“No, now I’m just turned on.”

“That’s better than anxious,” I reply and kiss her softly before pulling away. “Now, let’s go back out there before my brothers accuse me of fucking you in the kitchen.”

She looks horrified for a moment and then breaks out into laughter, which doesn’t help the state of my cock in the least.

Out back, Archer and Jace have just set up the cornhole game that Archer brought with him.

“You brought it,” Amelia says, excited. “Are you ready to have your ass handed to you?”

She covers her mouth in surprise and looks over at my parents who just laugh.

“Honey, cursing isn’t the end of the world,” my dad says. “Go flip them all some shit.”

She grins. “I like you.”

Dad winks at her, and we spend the next hour tossing small bean bags across my lawn, aiming for the hole in the middle of a board.

“That’s right, I knocked you out, sucker,” Amelia calls to her brother and then sticks her tongue out at him.

“I had no idea you were so passionate about cornhole,” I say with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m very good at this game,” she replies happily. Since our moment in the kitchen, she’s much more relaxed. “I can kick Archer’s ass.”

“In your dreams, little girl,” he taunts back. “You got lucky.”

“So lucky that I’ve beaten you eight games in a row?” she asks and does a little dance. The Macarena, if I’m not mistaken.

“You cheat,” Anastasia says.

“You can’t cheat at cornhole,” Amelia insists. “You’re all just bad losers. And I’m the victor!”

She thrusts her fists into the air and jogs around the yard in victory, making me laugh. I love this playful side of her.

She stops in front of me, offering her lips up in celebration. I immediately kiss her chastely, and then she rubs her hands together.

“What’s for dessert?”

~Amelia~

I’m either having an excellent, sexy dream, or Wyatt is waking me up with his tongue.

God bless him.

He’s so fucking good at this wake-up sex thing. His hands are gentle but sensual. His mouth is smooth and confident. And his sexy, warm body is naked and hovering over me.

I’m on my tummy. My first instinct is to flip over because there’s light filtering through the gauzy curtains, but then I remember, this is Wyatt, and he loves my ass.

Cellulite and all.

“Don’t you even think about trying to flip over,” he murmurs, not lifting his lips from my spine.

“Are you a mind reader?”

He smiles against me, then licks all the way up to my neck, sending shivers rolling over my body.

“I know you,” he whispers against my ear. His nakedness is pressed against me now, and his cock is hard.

“It seems you do.”

He nibbles on the ball of my shoulder. “You’re delicious in the morning, sweetheart.”

“You’re good at the morning sex.”

“I can’t resist you when you’re in my bed, gorgeous. Naked. God, you’re every dream I’ve ever had.”

I glance back at him over my shoulder. “You say some sweet things, but you don’t have to butter me up. I’m all for some morning sex.”

He grins. “I’m not buttering you up for anything.”

He flips me over and settles his pelvis against mine, rocking back and forth. My eyes are going to cross and roll back in my head.

“You like that?”

“Good Lord, yes,” I reply and reach up to brush his hair off his brow. “I haven’t found anything that you do that I don’t like.”

“Excellent.” He lowers himself so he can press his lips to mine, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding on tightly as he pushes inside of me, still rocking gently. “You’re always so wet. So ready for me.”

“Well, you’ve got the foreplay thing down.” I grin as his eyes narrow, and he starts to move faster, just a bit harder. “And you’re visually stunning.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sigh and close my eyes, enjoying the way his body rocks mine, and how fully he fills me. “All of this is damn good.”

He chuckles and links his fingers through mine, pinning our hands to the bed beside my head. The lovemaking is slow and hot, with deep breaths and gasps, sweaty bodies and sighs.

I never want it to end.

But before I know it, I can feel the orgasm building, and as if he can sense it, he presses his thumb against my clit, and that’s all I need to fall apart. Spectacularly.

“So beautiful,” he whispers as he’s coming down from his own orgasm. He kisses my cheek, my nose, my forehead. “You make me fucking crazy, Amelia.”

“Back at you, sexy man.”

He plants a firm kiss on my lips, then climbs off the bed.

“I have to take a shower.”

“Okay.”

He grins and, suddenly, reaches down to pull me off of the bed and into his arms, marching to the bathroom.

“I guess I need a shower, too?”

“I dirtied you up. I need to clean up my mess.”

I giggle as he sets me down and starts the water. He reaches for a bag sitting on the countertop and pulls out a shower puff, the shower gel I use, and my favorite kind of razor.

“Wow.”

“Now you don’t have to run home all of the time to shower,” he says and winks at me. “And I can have my way with you in the water.”

He pulls me into his spacious, tiled stand-up shower. The glass door is heavy and already steaming up. There’s a bench on one wall, where he has a bottle of shampoo and conditioner waiting for me.

“You thought of everything,” I say as he lathers up my shower puff and begins cleaning my skin. “I like a man who’s prepared.”

“I’m very prepared,” he says, his face serious, but I know he’s being silly, and this is a side of him that I love. “I make lists all of the time.”

“Really. Lists. That is impressive.”

“I know. Also, I’ve never been late paying a bill. Because I set reminders on my phone.”