Page 43 of Never Date a Celebrity

Imogen laughed. “Yeah. Because there’s such a language barrier between us English speakers. It’s not like I speak solely in the Irish language, you know.”

“Can you speak Irish?” Amelia asked. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. She hadn’t heard anyone speaking Irish in the time she’d been there. It mustn’t be a common practice.

Imogen grimaced. “I only remember like six words. And four of them are naughty ones.”

Amelia laughed. “Remind me to get you to teach me them when I haven’t had two glasses of wine, and I might actually be inclined to remember.” She relaxed back into her spot on the sofa beside Imogen. Amelia had crossed her legs underneath her, and her left knee was resting on Imogen’s thigh, whose legs were still stretched out in front of her. They had a blanket draped around them, and there was some music playing softly on Imogen’s Bluetooth speaker in the background. When they were quiet, Amelia could faintly make out some sounds from the bar down below them. Glasses clinking, chairs moving. That sort of thing. She hoped it was busy, but not too busy that Imogen would feel guilty for not being there.

“You okay?” Imogen asked, presumably because she’d gone quiet, lost in reflection of her own contentment.

“More than okay,” Amelia answered. “I was just thinking about how nice this is.”

Imogen looked around. “It is quite peaceful here. When the window’s open, you can even hear the sea. I won’t open it now though because we might freeze to death.”

Amelia smiled. “It is peaceful. But I meant that it’s nice being here with you.” The only thing that continued to weigh her down was the secret she still carried. Amelia was waiting for a perfect time to confess, and she now realised that it was never going to come. It had nearly come during dinner when Imogen had asked about her work, but Amelia had steered the conversation away. Again. Because she couldn’t face it. How could she risk ruining everything and losing Imogen so soon? Amelia had meant every word that she had said to Imogen at dinner. She was in this, with an open mind and an open heart. But deep down, she knew that they could never truly become something until she was open about everything else too. It was a case of being damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

“It’s nice even though I’m about to beat you at Monopoly?” Imogen asked, vigorously shaking the dice in her hand.

Amelia turned her head. “It depends how you intend to make it up to me.”

Imogen rolled a six and made her way to one of her own properties, which meant no money for Amelia. How did she always manage to do that? Probably because she owned most of the board by now. Imogen turned to Amelia and gave her a grin. “I’m sure I can think of a way.”

“Oh yeah?” Suddenly eager to end the game, Amelia grabbed the dice and chucked them down on the table. She moved her top hat forward the eight spaces she’d rolled and, unsurprisingly, landed on one of Imogen’s red properties with hotels on. That was it. She was officially bankrupt—even selling both of her cheap-ass brown properties wouldn’t save her now. “Oh well,” she said and willingly passed her last bank note over to Imogen. “Look at that. I guess I’m ready for you to make it up to me already.”

“Really?” Imogen said, tapping her lip. “I don’t know. You don’t seem too disappointed about losing. Maybe you’re fine after all.”

“No way, I’m very sad. Look.” Amelia put on her best pout. “See?”

Imogen chuckled. “I do see. You’re kind of adorable actually. Is it bad that I want to make you a wee bit sadder so I can see that face again?”

“You could do that. Or…” Amelia uncurled her legs from under her and in one swift move, swung herself across so that she was straddling Imogen. “We can do something else.” She smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Imogen replied softly.

She put her hands on the couch, one at either side of Imogen. “Did making it up to me look anything like this in your mind?”

“I mean, I was going to offer you a cuppa, but this is good too.”

Amelia poked her in the ribs. “You better stop making jokes and kiss me.”

Imogen laughed but didn’t hesitate. She ran her hands up Amelia’s back and pulled her down the rest of the way. When their lips crashed together, everything else faded away. Nerves, worries, reality. They could have been in Imogen’s apartment or on the moon. Amelia wouldn’t have noticed which, because her entire being was consumed by the feeling of Imogen’s soft lips moving against her own. She had never felt that way before when she’d kissed someone—that kind of oblivion. Amelia was always aware. Of everything. It was basically impossible for her to switch off. It didn’t matter if she was kissing someone because she wanted to or kissing someone because it was written in a script, Amelia knew exactly what was going on around her at all times.

But somehow, with Imogen, the total opposite seemed to happen. Amelia had realised this right after they had shared their first kiss. They’d been on top of a cliff—technically a public place, in the middle of the day. Anyone could have stumbled on them. Steve had been stationed somewhere in the background. Amelia should have been on high alert. Except, when they were kissing, Amelia hadn’t thought about any of that. Instead, she had allowed herself to be completely taken over by Imogen and the way Imogen made her feel—which was pretty damn incredible. When their kiss had ended it had taken several moments for Amelia to come back to herself. That had to mean something, right? Losing yourself in someone that way? That’s why this thing between them was too special to jeopardise.

Once again, as they kissed with a rush of pent-up passion that had been building all evening, Amelia’s focus fell fully on Imogen. On her long, dark hair that Amelia threaded her fingers through. Imogen had left it down tonight and Amelia had been dying to touch it from the moment she’d got into the car. It felt just as soft as she had suspected it would. She shifted her weight, revelling in how warm and inviting Imogen’s body felt underneath her own. How badly she wanted to give in to the urge to explore it more freely. To run her hands over every inch of it. To reach under the thin barrier of Imogen’s tight, black shirt and feel how soft the skin was below. To push her hips downward, more firmly against Imogen’s, desperate for more pressure.

She could still taste a hint of the chocolate-covered strawberries they had shared for dessert as Imogen’s tongue caressed her own. God, every kiss should taste as good. Amelia let out a groan of sheer pleasure which clearly affected Imogen some kind of way, judging by how she immediately deepened the kiss. At the same time, she tightened her grip on Amelia’s waist to pull her closer. Yes, that was the friction Amelia needed. But she wanted more.

Without breaking their kiss, she carefully guided Imogen onto her back on the couch and draped her body down on top of her. There were no complaints from Imogen, who had finally dared to reach underneath the fabric of Amelia’s white top and was now running her hands down the sensitive skin at the small of her back. Amelia’s entire body tingled at the touch. She cupped Imogen’s jaw and poured everything she had into the kiss. Kissing, and licking, and teasing, she devoured Imogen, savouring every second that their mouths melded together. No matter what happened next, Amelia wanted to leave Imogen in no doubt about how much she wanted her.

What gave Amelia a small glimmer of hope was that she could tell that Imogen wanted her too. Everything that Amelia was pouring in, Imogen was giving back to her in spades. Want, fervour, desire. But there was something unbelievably tender about kissing Imogen too. Like it was lust-filled but laced with affection. The slowed down moments. The quiet sighs of happiness. The gentle touches. The pulling back to briefly look into each other’s eyes. This wasn’t just hooking up, this was them acting on some very real feelings that had been blossoming ever since the moment they had met.

Eventually, they did break for air, but Amelia didn’t move too far away. Instead, she rested her head on Imogen’s shoulder, and Imogen wrapped her arms around her and held her tight. It felt protective—and right. Like Amelia had always belonged there.

“That’s not common, right?” Amelia asked after a few beats.

“The kissing?” Imogen asked.

Amelia paused to think about the best way to explain what she meant. “The effects of the kissing.”