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Instantly, I witnessed a deep blush spread from her neckline up her throat to her cheeks. Her hand twitched as if she wanted to snatch it from my fingers, but she didn't.
"I enjoy reading, okay?"
"And would you say these books intellectually challenge you?"
She stepped forward, and I caught myself holding my breath instinctively because it also meant she had to tilt her head back to look me in the eyes. And shewantedto. Her gaze was as bold as it had been before.
Dark-brown, nearly black eyes, framed by long, natural lashes. Almond-shaped, and I wasn't sure whether I saw a siren or an innocent doe in them.
"Maybe I've developed a fondness for love stories over the past few months," she finally said, sounding almost breathless, as though she were confessing her naughty thoughts to a priest in a confessional.
That's what made me decide to push a bit further. "Are you sure that's what it's about? Not about the explicit scenes? What happens after the kidnapping?"
"How would you know where the story goes from there?"
No matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't win this debate—if you could even call it that. Because honestly, I had no problem with the existence of these books or with the fact that she obviously devoured them, judging by the sheer number stacked in the crate.
Amused, I let the book drop back into the crate. "Because I know what I would do."
And not a single word to describe that would fall under the categoriesof sweet love storyorintellectually challenging.
As we looked at each other, time stood still for a moment. I thought I could hear the crackling of a blazing fire before she broke the spell with a snort. "There are several shelves over there. My clothes, some stuff from the kitchen, and those plants over there, even though they're practically dead already."
I refrained from asking if that was all she owned and followed her into the adjacent bedroom. One wall was entirely taken up by bookshelves. While it indeed held a remarkable collection of steamy romance novels, I also spotted countless classics. Spine after spine, I inspected them—these bookshelves revealed more about Amelia than our conversation in the restaurant and the rest of the apartment combined.
Ever since I had seen her duck under the palm branches at the restaurant, something inside me had awakened so suddenly that I couldn't identify it at first. My decision, made after being stood up by another date, had suddenly wavered when she dropped herself at my table, her head turned toward another man.
At that moment, I hadn't realized that she was already taken, but I was keenly aware that her immediate presence signaled the abrupt end of my comfortable life. It was like lightning striking an ostensibly dead tree, which suddenly burst back to life.
Much too late, I realized I had found myself in a dangerous game, and I was playing with fire.
Amelia was surrounded by an aura that spelled trouble for me. Defiance danced hand in hand with challenge in her eyes, flaunting them right under my nose. Both pushed me to the brink of madness, to the edge of my sanity. And then there was that lethal mix of trust and vulnerability she showed me as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
In a world where everyone looked out for themselves and hid behind a stone façade, no matter what, Amelia was different. She didn't even deny the attraction that was brewing between us like a storm on the horizon. Something was in the air, so palpable that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Amelia should have been off-limits for me, yet I found myself walking a tightrope, enticed by her mere presence. For some completely illogical reason, running away was not an option.
For the first time in years, I found myself willing to risk everything just to catch another glimpse into her eyes.
No innocent deer, no. Amelia was like a siren to me, even though she neither intended to be nor knew it.
She appeared next to me, grabbing stacks of books and putting them into another box. It was the sound of the doorbell that made her flinch.
"Oh fuck, if it's him…" she started, suddenly not so composed.
"It's not."
"How do you know?" Her hissing amused me, while at the same time, I worried about her reaction.
"Because it's a friend of mine whom I asked to help. Will you let him in for me?" I took the stack of books from her hands and packed them while she stared at me for a few seconds.
She seemed to do that when she wasn't sure whether to just accept and agree with something I did or whether it was worth discussing with me. So far, she had always opted to let me take control, and this time was no exception. She turned away, accepting and doing exactly what I had told her to do, shaking her head, nevertheless.
A few seconds later, I could hear her getting acquainted with Wilder, oblivious to the fact that I had already sent him on his way to Toronto during our conversation in the restaurant. One might call it foresight or a touch of madness. Either would have been an accurate description.
Despite that, I was relieved to see him as it meant we'd leave this apartment in no more than two hours without Amelia needing to look back even once. Watching their interaction required a bit of neck craning on my part, but it also made Wilder step away from her with a friendly smile, turning his attention to me instead. My glare must have conveyed a clear message.
Puzzled, he let his gaze drift over the books before looking at me as if I had lost my mind. "Is this what first dates look like these days? Or is it just a generational thing? I mean, you could have told me that you?—"
