AMELIAMaybe it was his scent, or perhaps the way he held me tight. I found myself melting deeper into his touch, pulling back slightly to draw in a breath only to plunge my tongue deeper into his mouth, caressing every crevice, his teeth hitting mine repeatedly amidst our heated clash. He groaned, low in his chest as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me on to his body, I trapped him between my thighs, straddling him. I immediately felt his erection against my ass, digging into my already sensitive flesh. I moaned, he swallowed the sound, his hands drifting down from my waist down to my hips, grabbing and squeezing as he moved his waist, making his hardness press further into me. I was lost in the bliss of his warmth, everything else seemed to have faded with my body against his, like the last piece to a puzzle. A perfect fit. Then, a low growl left his throat and he abruptly dragged his lips away from mine, creating distance between our faces. I felt the cold air brush
I stirred awake, blinking lazily as sunlight streamed through the partially open curtains. For a moment, I lay there, savoring the warmth of my bed and the peaceful quiet of the morning. Then, with a jolt, I realized something was off. The room was far too bright compared to the time I had set for my alarm. I stood up abruptly and I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. My eyes widened in disbelief, it was already 10:30 AM. I had slept through my alarm! "Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, throwing off the covers and scrambling out of bed. My mind raced, trying to remember everything I needed to do today. The exhibition... my painting... I paused mid-panic, a wave of relief washing over me as I recalled that Vincent had promised to take care of transporting my painting to the art gallery. I let out a low sigh as I tried to calm my breathing. All that was left for me to do was get ready for the evening event. As I stood there, running a hand through my sleep-tousled hair, a memory f
As I sat there, sipping my water and trying to calm my racing heart, I couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected turn our conversation had taken. Roman and I were... flirting? The realization hit me like a sudden gust of wind, both exhilarating and slightly terrifying. And maybe not so bad the more I thought of it. "A black dress it is, then," Roman said, his voice low and tinged with something that sounded suspiciously like anticipation. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," He promised in a low voice that had me on edge. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "Oh? And what makes you so sure about that?" He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could see the flecks of darker blue in his irises. "Let's just say I've gotten to know your taste pretty well over the years, Amelia. Even if you don't remember all of it,” He simply replied. His words sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of all the history between us that I still couldn't fully recall. But instead
AMELIAAs Roman and I stood in the foyer, I couldn't help but feel excitement inside me. The matching outfits, which had seemed like such a playful idea earlier, now felt like a statement - one I wasn't entirely sure I was ready to make. But looking at Roman, tall and handsome in his perfectly tailored suit, I couldn't bring myself to regret it."Shall we?" Roman asked, offering me his arm with a smile that made my heart skip a few beatsI nodded, linking my arm through his. "Let's go wow them with our impeccable fashion sense," I joked, trying to lighten the mood and calm my nerves.As we made our way to the front door, Colson appeared, looking slightly frazzled but managing a professional smile. "The car is ready, Mr. Wellington," he reported, if I didn't know any better, I would've said he was glaring at Roman. He then handed Roman a set of keys."Thank you, Colson," Roman replied, his voice warm and sarcastic. "And thank you for all your hard work today. I hope you can get some re
AMELIA As Roman and I approached the gallery entrance, my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure everyone around us could hear it. The nerves I'd been trying to keep at bay all evening came rushing back in full force. But before I could spiral too far into my anxiety, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the gathering crowd. "Amelia! Roman! Over here!" I looked up to see Vincent waving enthusiastically from the top of the gallery steps. His face was lit up with a broad smile, his eyes twinkling with excitement even from this distance. Despite my nerves, I couldn't help but smile back. Vincent's enthusiasm had always been infectious. He looked good, in his navy blue suit that did nothing to make him look professional but rather a laid back art dealer looking for his next best painting. His hair looked like he didn't even make an effort yet he still managed to look…Vincenty. As we made our way up the steps, I felt Roman's hand on the small of my back, a gentle, reassuring pr
I nodded, suddenly feeling a strange mix of terror and exhilaration. As we approached the crowd, I found myself studying my own work with new eyes, trying to see it as these strangers did.After years of being told by my father that my love for painting was just me throwing my head up in the clouds, me making another excuse to be useless in the family…seeing this, seeing what I had done out of a basement which I had begged for. It was…words couldn't describe it. The painting was large, spanning nearly the entire wall. At first glance, it appeared to be an abstract explosion of color – swirls of deep blues and purples intermingling with bursts of fiery reds and oranges. But as you looked closer, shapes began to emerge from the chaos. Here, the curve of a woman's back. There, the silhouette of a cityscape. And woven throughout, barely perceptible unless you knew to look for them, were words and phrases, worked into the very texture of the paint.It was a piece born of my jumbled memor
I thought back to the young woman I had been when I first started this painting, lost and confused and angry, grappling with the fractured pieces of a life I could no longer fully remember. And now, standing here in this beautiful space, with Roman by my side and a future full of possibilities stretching out before me, I felt a profound sense of achievement. This…was something I had agreed on and decided on a whim, because I needed an outlet. Now it had become… As I turned to look at Roman, seeing the clear pride and admiration shining in his eyes, I realized that this night, this moment, was well deserved, the woman I was felt content, overjoyed just looking at him, looking at the painting,looking at the crowd.“Do you think I can do this professionally?” I lifted a brow and whispered, I had meant it as a joke, but noticed that both Vincent and Roman took my question seriously and nodded firmly. “Definitely!” Vincent agreed. The sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention b
I should? Would my mother be proud of me if she saw me now? How long has it been since I've felt this…happy.I felt my eyes water, despite how hard I tried to stop it. I could not help the emotions that threatened to spill. Before I could respond, Vincent cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, now that the initial excitement has died down, how about we go explore the rest of the gallery?" he suggested, his gaze flickering briefly between Roman and me. "There are some other amazing pieces I think you'll both enjoy."Roman nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "That sounds like a good idea," he said. Then, with a slight hesitation, he added, "Actually, if it's alright with you, Amelia, I think I'd like to take a look around on my own for a bit. We can regroup later?"I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought of being separated from him, but I quickly pushed it aside, offering him a reassuring smile. "Of course, Roman. Take your time. Vince