Page 55 of Embers in Autumn
I took a breath that felt like stepping off a ledge. “I wanted to ask… if you’d come to Thanksgiving. With me. With my family.”
Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly. Surprise flickered across her face, sharp enough to twist my gut. For one terrifying heartbeat—hell, maybe a hundred—she didn’t say anything.
And in that silence, a million thoughts tore through my head.Too soon. She’s not ready. You’ve scared her off. She’ll walk out like the others did.
I forced myself to hold her gaze, every muscle in my body wound tight.
Then she smiled. Soft, genuine, her cheeks flushing pink. “I would love to.”
Relief crashed through me so hard I nearly laughed out loud. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, unclenching the fist I hadn’t realized I’d made. “Good,” I said, my grin tugging wider than I could control. “Really good.”
She tilted her head, curiosity lighting her expression. “Who’s going to be there?”
“My sister, her husband, the kids,” I said. “And my dad. He’s flying up for the week.”
“What does he do?” she asked, sipping her wine.
“He used to be a stock broker,” I explained. “Retired now, living down in Florida. Spends more time golfing than anything else these days.”
Amber smiled, her eyes softening. “Sounds like he earned it.”
“Maybe,” I said with a chuckle. “He’s still got a mean swing though. You’ll see.”
The words slipped out easy, natural, like it was already a given she’d be there.
The air between us shifted after she said yes. Not tense, not awkward. Just… charged. Like something unspoken hung in the candlelight with us, daring one of us to reach for it.
Amber set her wine glass down, fingers lingering on the stem. Her hazel eyes caught mine again, softer now, curious, but guarded in that way she always was when she wasn’t sure if it was safe to want something.
“Dean,” she said quietly, “you didn’t have to invite me, you know. Thanksgiving is—”
“Exactly where I want you,” I cut in, my voice low. I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Sitting next to me. Meeting myfamily. Being part of my world.”
Her breath hitched, just enough for me to notice. That wall she carried in her eyes cracked a little more, and I wanted to tear it down brick by brick.
“Besides,” I added with a smirk, “I didn’t spend all afternoon pretending I know how to make roast dinner just for a thank you. I want more.”
She laughed, shaking her head, the sound nervous but sweet. “You’re terrible.”
I pushed my chair back, the scrape of it loud in the quiet room, and rounded the table. When I reached her, I braced my hands on the chair arms, leaning down until my mouth hovered over hers.
“No,” I murmured, letting my lips brush her cheek. “I’m starving.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting just as I kissed her—deep, hungry, all the restraint I’d been holding since she walked in wearing that damn dress and hat shattering in an instant. She gasped against me, and I swallowed it, tasting wine and her in equal measure.
When she finally broke for breath, I caught her lower lip between my teeth, tugging until she let out the faintest whimper.
“Fuck, Amber,” I groaned, my forehead pressing to hers. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her hands slid into my shirt, fingers fisting in the fabric, pulling me down until she kissed me again, harder this time. I let her lead, let her pour out whatever she was holding back, until the sound of her chair tipping nearly made us both laugh.
“Bed?” she whispered, her voice shaky but laced with need.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
I scooped her up without hesitation, her legs wrapping around my waist, her laugh muffled by the way my mouth devoured hers. Each step to the bedroom felt like fire under myskin, my cock straining painfully against my jeans.
When I laid her down, her hat tumbled off to the floor, and I chuckled darkly. “Cute,” I murmured, dragging my mouth down her throat, nipping at the skin. “But I’m about to ruin that dress.”
