Keeping his voice low, Alan leans across the table, and I fear the conversation we’re about to have. “Do you really think she’s serious about this guy?” he asks. “What could they possibly have in common?”
Anger spikes slightly, and I pick up my coffee mug, suddenly very interested by the steam rolling off the black liquid inside. I debate reminding him that I—an older guy—am involved with a younger woman and he seemed to be just fine with the idea of that, but I fear that this will only put him on the path to figuring everything out, and that’s definitely not what I want. “Let it go, Alan.”
“I can’t!” he hisses, still careful not to draw Amelia’s attention over the running water. “What kind of man goes out prowling the streets for a girl half his age?”
I breathe deeply, evenly, and count to ten before my anger can build any more. I know he doesn’t realize he’s talking about me, but that doesn’t make it any less insulting. Besides, does he really think that little of Amelia’s ability to choose a suitable partner?
I set the mug down, my hands still wrapped around it, and I look Alan dead in the eye. “Don’t you think it’s possible that this guy’s good for her?” Alan stares at me, dumbfounded. “She’s happy, Alan.”
This seems to quiet him for the time-being, and I experience a flicker of hope that he might be a little more forgiving when he finds out that I’m the man seeing his daughter. If we can just keep reminding him about how happy we are, then perhaps he’ll listen to reason.
Behind me, the water stops running, and when I turn around, I see Amelia is wiping down the counter, having finished the dishes. “Okay,” she says brightly, almost as though her conversation with her father never happened. “I’m going to run upstairs and finish packing my things. Dad, you think about that trip up to see me. I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant for brunch.”
The tension in the room thins as Alan smiles. It’s obvious he’s not going to press her about her relationship any further, and I relax slightly. “I’ll see if I can sneak away for the day, kiddo.”
“Great.”
The sound of Amelia climbing the stairs echoes through the lower level of the house before she can be heard in her room above the kitchen. Alan finishes his coffee, takes the empty mug to the sink, and then turns to me and says he’s going to go have a quick shower before Amelia and I have to take off.
With Amelia and Alan upstairs, I decide to go make sure all my things are packed and fold up all the blankets that are still on the couch. By the time I’ve stacked the last blanket on the pile, I hear Amelia skipping down the stairs. While Alan showers, I decide to take advantage of this rare moment alone and meet her at the foot of the stairs where she sets her bags down. Taking her hand, I pull her around the corner until we’re out of sight, but still within earshot of the stairs in case Alan makes an appearance.
“Owen!” she quietly exclaims with a light giggle as I sandwich her body between mine and the wall. Her chest heaves against mine as I trail my fingers up and down her arms, inviting a fog of lust to roll around us.
Being sure to pay attention to the sound of the shower running upstairs, I lower my face to hers, kissing and nipping along her jaw, moving toward that ticklish spot just below her ear. Her body softens against me, head falling back against the wall, and her hands fly to my hips. She hooks her thumbs into the waist of my jeans while my hands splay across her lower back and travel south. She releases a soft sigh as I lightly nip the shell of her ear, and it travels straight to my groin, but I hold back every carnal impulse I have because I know we won’t be alone for much longer.
“Just think,” I whisper into her ear, smiling when I watch the skin of her neck prickle with goosebumps, “in a few short hours, we’ll be back in the city…alone.”
She moans in reply, pushing her hips away from the wall and up against mine. “And what exactly do you plan to do to me?” She shifts her head, forcing me to look into her eyes as she smirks slyly. Her voice is low and sexy, sending another shot of lust straight to my groin.
I’ve always hated that stereotype about how men can’t think when sex is involved, but every day with Amelia has me wondering if there isn’t maybe the tiniest hint of truth to it. Without thinking about how we could be caught by her father at any moment, my right hand moves around to the front of her body and slips between her thighs.
She inhales a shaky breath as my hand moves a few times before my common sense finally returns, and I pull it away, placing it securely on her hip. Her eyes flutter open, and she looks up at me through heavy eyelids. “How long until we leave again?”