Compromising Positions (10 page)

She knew what he was going to do, even though Amelia hadn't had much experience with this variety of seduction. Her only lover had preferred to limit lips and tongues to more conventional uses such as kissing. As his mouth finally found its destination, Amelia's body reacted instantly.

A soft cry tore from her throat and she twisted beneath him. Sam grabbed her hips, refusing to allow even a momentary retreat. The pleasure was almost too intense to bear, but Amelia tried to control her body and focus her thoughts.

She pushed up on her elbows and watched him, fascinated by his single-minded purpose. Delicious sensations pulsed through her and, before long, she closed her eyes and lay back, overcome by pleasure. Every thought was centered on the touch of his tongue.

The tension began to build inside her, driving her forward toward inevitable release. She craved that feeling of tumbling over the edge, the risk, the exhilaration and the sweet exhaustion that would follow. But she didn't want to fall just yet.

She came close again and again but forced herself to wait, rebuilding the tension until it never really went away. Then Amelia reached for him, pulling him up along her body.

Her fingers closed around his hard shaft and she stroked him, gently bringing him closer to the edge. She felt the weight of his body above her, and when she spread her legs, he sank down, his hips meeting hers.

For a moment, as the tip of his cock teased at her entrance, she considered a condom. But she'd kept up with her birth control after the breakup with Edward.

“Do we need protection?” he whispered.

She shook her head and gently guided him into her body. The sensation of him filling her, inch by inch, until he was buried deep inside her, was exquisite torture.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “I knew it would be perfect.”

“It gets a lot better,” he murmured.

He began to move, slowly at first and then gradually building until Amelia was breathless and aching for release. When he rolled over and pulled her on top of him, she groaned, now in control of every movement they made together.

She looked down at him and smiled, certain that he was feeling every bit as much pleasure as she was. Bending close, she brushed a kiss across his lips. Sam wove his fingers through the hair at her nape and kept her lips close to his.

“Do you have any idea how much I've wanted you? You're in my head and I can't get you out.”

Amelia wasn't sure what to say. The idea of people conversing during sex was a startling concept. Her head was so muddled with desire that she couldn't put a sentence together. Instead she rocked back on her knees, driving him deep inside her.

Sam slipped his fingers between them and began to caress her, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her mind suddenly clearing, her focus sharp.

Her orgasm came on quickly, building so fast that she wasn't prepared when the spasms rocked her body. A soft cry slipped from her lips as she moved above him. She had barely come down from her own release when Sam's fingers spread across her hips and stopped her from moving.

She watched him as he fought against the pleasure, but she didn't want to wait any longer. She rose up on her knees and then slowly came down on him. It was all it took to send him over the edge.

When he was completely spent, he grabbed the covers and pulled her down beside him, tucking her into the warmth of his body. “You could ask me for anything right now and I'd say yes,” he murmured.

She smoothed her fingers over his brow, brushing aside his dark hair. “I think I'd be taking advantage of the situation if I asked for the bed.”

“This bed is magic,” he said. “I'm not sure I'd want to give it away.”

“What do you think George would have to say about this?” she asked.

“I'm sure he'd approve. He was always really popular with the babes.”

Amelia giggled. “He was a pretty handsome guy.”

“Not as handsome as me,” Sam said.

“No, not nearly as handsome as you,” Amelia said, nuzzling his neck. She'd never met a man quite so handsome as Sam. And the more she got to know him, the more perfect he became.

“We're going to have to settle this disagreement over the bed at some point,” Amelia said.

“Do we? I like the way it's working out right now.”

“Sam, I can't stay here forever waiting for you to decide. If you're not going to give me the bed, you need to tell me.”

“Maybe I haven't decided yet,” he said.

“Is that true? Are you still considering giving it to the museum?”

Sam nodded. “I am.”

“All right. Then I guess I can wait a little longer.” Amelia smiled and snuggled closer. She could wait for the bed. But she wasn't sure how long she could live in the window of Benny Barnes Antiques and Auction Gallery. A little more privacy might be nice—especially if they planned to repeat the events of the past few hours.

And she wanted to repeat them. She needed to store up all the blissful memories for the inevitable moment when she'd have to leave Millhaven—and Sam.

* * *

S
AM
HEARD
THE
pop
through the haze of sleep. Amelia was still beside him in bed, her warm body curled up against his. But Sam's instincts told him to open his eyes, and when he did, he saw Benny standing above him. He quickly glanced over at Amelia, who was sound asleep beside him. The covers were pulled up to her nose.

“What are you doing?” he whispered to Benny. “Get the hell out of here before Amelia wakes up.”

“Are you two...” Benny glanced between them. “You mean, you're... Oh, my, I guess I should have knocked.”

“What's that?” Sam asked, nodding at the bottle he held.

“Champagne,” Benny said.

“For breakfast?”

Benny nodded. “We got a photo in the
Boston Globe
and there's a news crew from Albany outside and one from Boston on the way.” The auctioneer forced a smile. “I'll just wait for you guys in my office.”

Sam nodded. “I think that would be best. And don't let anyone inside until I say so, all right?”

Benny nodded, then hurried out.

Sam burrowed between the warm sheets and gently nuzzled Amelia's shoulder. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Tell me it's too early to get up,” she murmured.

“It's too early to get up,” he said.

“Tell me we're going to spend the whole day in bed,” she said.

“We're going to spend the whole day in bed,” he repeated.

Amelia sat up and brushed the tousled hair out of her eyes. “How do I look?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” he said, dropping a kiss on her lips.

“Do I look well satisfied? Because I am, you know. I'm very well satisfied.”

He reached over and smoothed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Has everyone always called you Amelia?”

“Always,” she said.

“You've never had a nickname?”

“No. My mother wouldn't allow it. Why do you ask?”

“Amelia sounds so formal. So proper. Nothing like the woman you really are.”

She pressed a kiss to his bare chest. “My nanny used to call me Millie. I liked that name. But when my mother heard the nanny use it, she made her stop. But Nanny would still call me Millie when she was kissing me good-night. Or when I was sick.”

“Can I call you Millie? That suits you so much better.”

She giggled softly. “Yes, you can call me Millie.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him on top of her. “Can we stop talking now?”

“I'm afraid not, Millie. There's a news crew waiting outside and Benny is just itching to talk to them. If you want to control this little story you've unleashed on the public, you're going to have to get up and make yourself presentable.”

Amelia glanced over her shoulder at the covered window. “Vivian said she was going to get a crew to cover this, but I didn't think anyone would actually be interested.”

“Benny said there was a picture of us in the
Boston Globe
. I guess we're news.”

“I guess we are,” Amelia said.

“It might be best if we make the bed before we open the curtains. I'm not sure it would be a good idea for them to find out what's really been going on in George Washington's bed.”

She scrambled off the mattress and quickly began to straighten the sheets and quilts. “Help me,” she said.

“Why don't you get dressed? I'll finish the bed.”

She nodded and began to retrieve her clothes from the floor. When she'd finished dressing, she found her brush and dragged it through her tangled hair.

Sam watched her transform from a well-satisfied woman to a nervous wreck right before his eyes.

He smoothed his hands over the quilt and put two pillows down the center of the bed. She saw what he'd done and smiled. “Good idea.”

As she put on her makeup, Sam finished dressing and picked up the copy of the
Globe
Benny had left. He stretched out on the bed and began to read it. “I'm ready,” he said. “Pull the curtain and let's get this little drama on the road.”

“That's a mixed metaphor,” she said.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.

“Just let me take the lead with the reporters. If there's anything you don't feel comfortable answering, I'll answer it. And remember, we're not supposed to like each other. We're on opposite sides of this battle over the bed.”

“I'm not giving you this bed,” he said. “I don't care that we've slept together or that I rocked your world. This bed is mine.”

“I thought you said you were still thinking about it.”

“I did and I've decided. This is my bed. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.”

“Fine. Play the game. And by the way, you didn't rock my world,” she said.

“Yeah? You can try sticking to
that
story but I'm sure they'll be able to see the real one in your beautiful face. Your lips are a bit swollen and you've got some beard burn on your chin. And a love bite on your neck.”

“What?” She hurried over to the vanity and stared into the mirror. “Where?”

“Lower,” he said.

She turned and pointed at him. “Stop it. Behave yourself or you'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight.” Amelia took a deep breath, then walked to the window and pulled the curtains aside.

A small crowd had gathered and Sam noticed the news truck parked on the opposite side of the street. Within seconds, a cameraman and a reporter emerged from the van and hurried across the street.

Sam got up and walked to Benny's office. He found Benny standing at the door. “You can let them in,” Sam said. “We're ready.”

“You'll be sure to mention the Benny Barnes Antiques and Auction Gallery, won't you? And remember the tagline—I buy old stuff.”

Sam smiled. “I'll try,” he said.

“Good,” Benny said. “'Cause I wouldn't want to suddenly recall what I've seen goin' on in that window...if you get my meanin'.”

“Are you threatening me, Benny Barnes?”

“Nope. Just makin' a friendly request.”

Benny opened the door to the shop and the reporters gladly came in from the cold. They introduced themselves and Sam led them over to the window. “This is Amelia Sheffield Gardner from the...the...”

“Mapother Museum of Decorative Arts in Boston,” Amelia said. “And it's Amelia Gardner Sheffield. Assistant curator of Special Exhibitions.”

Over the next hour the crew from Albany interviewed them both. They videotaped Sam and Amelia lying on the bed from both inside and outside the shop. Sam managed to mention Benny's name twice on camera, but to be certain the other man was satisfied, he called Benny in to answer questions about the security of the contested bed and how he was in charge of settling any small disputes that might come up between Amelia and Sam.

While they were wrapping up their first interview a second news truck arrived, this one from Boston. Sam watched as Amelia did her thing for the camera, amazed at how she hid every last trace of nerves. She looked so pretty, so self-assured. It seemed that every day there was something more remarkable he discovered about her.

When the news crew from Boston finally left, Amelia stood by the window, silently staring out at the light snow that had started to fall. She took a ragged breath and let it out slowly.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked.

Amelia nodded. “I think so.”

“Did you say everything you wanted to say?”

“Yes.”

“Did I say everything you wanted me to say?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You were wonderful.”

“Then what's wrong?”

“I just realized. My mother is going to see this. And all her friends. My father and all his business associates. Edward.”

“Edward?” Sam felt a rush of jealousy at the mention of her former fiancé. He'd never felt that way when she'd mentioned Edward in the past. But then, he'd always assumed that everything was finished between them. Now it suddenly seemed as though it wasn't. “Why would that bother you?”

“We were engaged. And the fact that his former fiancée is publicly sleeping with a man in order to win possession of a bed will be a bit hard to explain to all his friends at the club.” She paused. “As for my mother, I'm sure I've broken every rule she's ever laid out for me. I suspect I'll be disowned shortly.”

“Over something your boss asked you to do?”

“As far as my mother is concerned, there are no excuses for breaking her rules. And I've already broken so many of them by ending my engagement to Edward and trying to find my own career.” She shook her head. “There goes my ten million.”

“Ten million?”

“I have a trust fund. From my grandfather. Ten million dollars. I get it when I marry. But my parents have executive power, so they can delay giving it to me—indefinitely. It's exactly the kind of controlling game I've been trying to escape for a year.”