RICHARD’S POV
Her body went still and I half expected her to push me away but instead, she melted into my arms.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer.
She kissed me back with a desperation that matched my own, her lips soft and yielding against mine.
I groaned, deepening the kiss.
My hands found her waist, pulling her against me.
She was so warm, so soft, so right.
I had wanted this for so long, wanted her for so long, that I couldn’t think straight.
I broke the kiss, my forehead resting against hers.
“Amy,” I breathed.
“You can stop me if you want.”
“I want you, Richard,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment you touched me in your office.”
Something primal surged through me.
I scooped her up in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her up the stairs.
I kissed her the entire way, our lips never parting, our bodies pressed together.
I laid her down on my bed, my body covering hers.
The kiss grew hotter, more intense.
My hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every dip.
She moaned beneath me, her back arching, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I kissed down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.
She gasped, her head tilting back, giving me better access.
My hand found her breast, massaging it through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
Her nipple hardened beneath my touch, and she cried out.
“Richard, please,” she begged, her voice breathless.
“Please, I need more.”
I wanted to give her everything.
But then the images came.
The memory.
I was eighteen again, standing in front of Her.
She was beautiful, cold, untouchable.
Her family stood behind her, their faces twisted with disgust.
“You think I would ever be with you?” Her voice was sharp, mocking.
“You’re nothing but a bastard. An illegitimate mistake. The Wellington family won’t even acknowledge you. Why would I tie myself to someone like you?”
Her father stepped forward, Elder Leo, his eyes cold with contempt.
“Get out of here, boy. And don’t ever come near my daughter again. You’re beneath her. You’re beneath all of us.”
I stood there, humiliated, my heart shattering into a million pieces.
The laughter of her family echoed in my ears.
The servants, the pack members who had gathered to watch, they were all laughing at me.
“Bastard,” someone hissed.
“He thinks he can climb the social ladder by mating with her. Pathetic.”
I turned and walked away, my face burning in shame and my soul was utterly crushed.
I had never felt so small, so worthless, so utterly alone.
The memory slammed into me, stealing my breath.
I was back in that moment, helpless, humiliated and broken.
The laughter echoed in my head, drowning out everything else.
I was doing the same thing now.
I was using Amy to forget Her.
To erase the pain and to prove that I was worthy of someone, anyone.
But that wasn’t fair to Amy.
She wasn’t a tool.
She wasn’t a bandage for my wounds.
She was a woman who deserved more than a man haunted by his past.
I pulled back abruptly, my body still aching with need, my mind reeling.
“Amy, I’m sorry,” I said, breathing heavily.
“I can’t do this. Not tonight.”
She blinked up at me, confusion and hurt flickering in her eyes. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“Richard, what’s wrong?
Did I do something…”
“No.” I shook my head, unable to look at her.
“It’s not you. It’s me. I shouldn’t have started this. I’m not in the right place.”
I climbed off the bed, putting distance between us.
I could feel her eyes on me, could feel her confusion and pain like a physical weight.
“Richard, please,” she said, sitting up.
“Talk to me.
What’s going on?”
“I need you to go back to your room,” I said, my voice flat.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I walked into the bathroom, my back to her, my hands gripping the sink.
“Richard!” she called after me.
“Richard, please don’t shut me out!”
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it.
I could hear her on the other side, calling my name, her voice desperate and confused.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, willing the images to go away.
But they wouldn’t.
They never did.
I was broken, scarred, and damaged.
And I might have just hurt the one woman who had actually started to make me forget.
‘Coward,’ Nixon snarled in my head.
‘You’re a coward, Richard.
You push away everyone who gets close, and then you wonder why you’re alone.’
“Shut up,” I muttered.
I slammed my fist against the counter, the pain grounding me.
Nixon was right.
I couldn’t deny that.
I sank to the floor, my back against the door, and buried my face in my hands.
I could still hear Amy calling my name on the other side and I hated myself for not being able to answer.