“You’re kidding, right?” Jamie rubbed noses with Jessica. “Who needs freedom? All I want is to wake up with Jessica in my arms for the rest of my life.”
Yeah, and all I want is to wake up with Amy in my arms.
He shifted his eyes to Amy, standing before him pink-cheeked, glassy-eyed, and sexy in that skimpy little black number that looked painted on and high heels that did something amazing to her long, lean legs. He forced his eyes north, over her perfect small breasts to the sleek line of her collarbone, which he wanted to trace with his tongue. Her hair fell over one of her heavy-lidded green eyes, giving her a sultry look that sent heat through his body. When she trapped her lower lip between her teeth, it took all his effort to force something other than, Damn, you look hot, from his lips. Well…how was he supposed to resist her now?
She slid her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest.
“Okay, big guy. Take me home.”
If she only knew what those words coming from her while dressed in that outfit did to him. As he’d done for too many years to count, he bit back his desires and walked her back to her room. He pulled her room card from his pocket, and it dawned on him that he always carried Amy’s stuff. Her keys, her wallet, her phone. At some point, his pockets had become her pocketbook.
Tony held the door open for Amy and kept one hand on her hip as she walked unsteadily past him.
He closed the door and took in her hotel room. Standard upscale fare, it looked like his room, with a king-size bed, a long dresser and mirror, and a decent-size sitting area. Amy’s perfume and lotions were lined up neatly on the dresser, along with her birth control pills, which made his gut twist a little. He didn’t want to think about Amy having sex with anyone. Well, except maybe him, but—
“Hey.” Amy reeled around on him, stepping forward in those sky-high heels. He didn’t need to inhale to know that she smelled like warm vanilla, a scent that haunted him at night.
She wobbled a little, and instinct brought his hand to her waist. He’d held Amy in his arms a million times, comforting her when she was sad, carrying her when she was a little too drunk to be steady on her feet. He’d cared for her when she was sick and sat up with her after each of her girlfriends had fallen in love, when she simply couldn’t handle being alone. He had a feeling those nights were their little secrets, because he’d never heard Bella, Jenna, or Leanna ever make reference to them, and those girls talked about everything. Now, as she stepped closer and touched his stomach with one finger and looked at him like she had years ago, not like the sweet, too-good-to-be-true Amy that she never strayed from around him unless she was drinking, he found himself struggling to remain detached enough to keep his feelings in check.
He forced himself to act casual. “What’s up, Ames?”
She trapped that lower lip of hers again, and his body warmed.
Amy stumbled on her heels and caught herself against his chest. She slid her hands up the front of his shirt, and his body responded like Pavlov’s dog. Amy had that effect on him, but he’d always been good about keeping it under wraps. What was happening to him? Was it the romance of the impending wedding? Watching his best buddies whisper and nuzzle their fiancées while he had walls so thick around his heart that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to move forward and love anyone else again?
She gazed up at him with naive curiosity in her eyes, and it was that innocence that threatened his steely resolve. It almost did him in every time they were alone together. Only this time she had the whole hips-swaying, chest-pushing-against-him thing going on.
He covered her hands with his and breathed deeply. With those heels, they were much closer in height. A bow of his head and he could finally taste her sweet mouth again.
With that selfish thought, he pressed her hands to his chest to keep them from roaming and to keep himself from becoming any more aroused. She gazed up at him, looking a little confused and so sexy it was all he could do to squelch his desire to take her in his arms and devour her.
“What do you need, Ames?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what I need,” she said in a husky voice as she pressed her hips to his.
You don’t mean that. You’re just drunk. He clenched his jaw against his mounting desire. She was all he ever wanted, and she was the one person he knew he should walk away from.
“Amy.”
“Tony.” Her voice was thin and shaky.
“You’re drunk.” He peeled her hands from his chest. She got like this when she was drunk: sultry, sexier, eager. As adults, she’d never taken it this far. She’d made innuendos over the years, but more in jest than anything else. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Amy cared about him, but he also knew she sometimes forgot things. Important things. Life-altering events that were less painful if forgotten. He was certain it was why she drank when they were together and why he’d spent years protecting her. Not that she needed protecting often. Drinking was a summer thing for Amy, and really, she rarely drank too much. She didn’t drink when she wasn’t at the Cape. He knew this because over recent years, after Amy had graduated from college and settled into her business, he’d begun texting her more often. He’d been unable to ignore his need for a connection to her any longer. He could count on one hand how many times she’d made reference to drinking.