Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Amelia

Oliver’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath me.

I glance at the clock and see that it’s only five a.m. Misha and Grey are fast asleep as well, and the screen displays a frozen image from the movie we’d been watching.

Carefully, I extricate myself from Oliver’s embrace, trying not to wake him. His gentle breathing and the warmth of his body make it difficult to pull away, but I manage it with minimal disturbance.

Tiptoeing back to my apartment, my mind is already racing with the day ahead.

When I unpacked my bags, I realized the maids forgot to pack my laptop, and in the haste of our departure, I completely forgot about the sensors.

Oh well.

I’ll erase the data remotely as soon as I get a new device and can log into my cloud.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, I send a text to the guys, letting them know I’ve left early to pick up a new laptop. I need it for work and can’t afford to wait, hoping my stolen one will miraculously reappear on my desk.

With my work.

By the time I make it to work, I’m already half an hour late, but Hendricks’ space is conspicuously empty.

Odd.

Even the framed picture of Willow isn’t sitting on it anymore.

Did he go on a vacation too?

I settle in to tackle the mountain of emails that have accumulated during my absence. Each new message feels like a mini-battle, but I’m determined to conquer them all.

It’s so good to be back working. At one point, I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

Just as I’m getting into my stride, the door swings open, and Dr. Cockwomble saunters in. His presence is like a dark cloud descending over my morning. “Well, well,” he drawls, his usual smug expression firmly in place. “What a surprise to see you back. I was getting worried you might not return.”

I bristle at his tone but keep my voice even. “I was just on vacation, Dr. Langley. I simply changed the dates.”

He perches on the edge of my desk, invading my space as he always does. “Is that so?” he says, reaching out to grasp a lock of my hair between his fingers.

Is he fucking serious?

Something in me snaps. I stand abruptly, crossing my arms over my chest. “My vacation was approved. Is there anything we need to discuss with HR about this?”

Langley seems taken aback by my sudden assertiveness. He stands, too, but I find myself looking down at him, a small thrill of satisfaction running through me as I watch him squirm.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says, but I can clearly see how he’s thrown off balance. “But with Hendricks quitting so suddenly, anything seemed possible.”

My ears prick up at that. “Hendricks quit?” I ask, momentarily forgetting my resolve to stand my ground.

Cockwomble huffs, “Haven’t heard yet? And it’s interesting that the AI Department was absent during the same period you were away, yet they returned this morning. Are you collaborating with them? You know it’s against protocol to work with other departments without the department leader’s permission.”

I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks I’m doing, but what I’m worried about is Hendricks.

Is that why Willow just quit her fish-sitter job out of the blue?

“ Why did Hendricks quit?” I ask.

“Personal reasons. Anyway, he left us with a lot of work, and your absence didn’t help matters. So, I would say there is some overtime in order to pick up the slack.” And with that, he retreats, leaving me alone with my whirling thoughts.

Just before lunch, my phone buzzes with a text from Misha.

Hey, Bug. Ready for lunch?

I glance at the mountain of emails, still demanding my attention, and sigh.

Probably going to be late. So much to catch up on.

A little while later, the door to my office swings open with a creak, and Misha, Grey, and Oliver pile in, their arms laden with an assortment of snacks—packs of chips and Twizzlers. They make themselves comfortable, settling into the cramped space as if it were their second home. Grey commandeers Hendricks’ chair, spinning it once before plopping down, while Oliver perches himself on the edge of my desk, his long legs stretched out before him.

Misha leans in to plant a soft kiss on my cheek, pressing a pack of Twizzlers into my hand with a wink.

“Thank you,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips as warmth blooms in my chest. “What are you lot doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Yeah, but we missed you.” Misha shrugs, his dark curls bouncing with the movement. “Can’t a guy just want to see his girlfriend?”

Girlfriend.

The flutter in my chest almost makes me nauseous.

“Since Hendricks is gone, maybe one or all of us could come work here,” Grey chimes in, his voice tinged with that familiar dry humor as he tears open a packet of chips with a satisfying pop. The salty aroma fills the air, making my stomach rumble traitorously.

“Why the bloody hell would you want to be in this dark, cramped little office when you have the dream office upstairs?” As I speak, realization dawns on me, and I feel my eyes widen. “Hang on… you knew he quit?”

They exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them that makes me want to groan in frustration.

Ugh, I hate that.

It’s like they have their own secret language.

“What do you know that I don’t?” I demand, narrowing my eyes at each of them in turn.

Misha’s the one to break first, his shoulders sagging as he admits, “We found out when we were in London. We dug deeper when we heard Morgan had to fish sit because Willow just up and left.”

I feel a pang of guilt. Why hadn’t I realized that there might be a deeper reason behind Willow’s sudden departure?

I had dismissed it as the whim of a preteen, but now…

“Do you know why he quit?”

Grey leans forward, his expression serious, all traces of humor gone from his face. “We think Hendricks was the one who stole your work and your laptop. And he skipped town with it.”

What?

“No way,” I say, shaking my head vehemently, feeling my hair whip against my cheeks. “Hendricks would never do that. He was my… friend. Or at least the closest I ever had to a friend before you lot.”

Oliver rubs his forehead, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his discomfort. “We know it’s hard to believe, but everything points to him.”

“Do you have evidence?”

Suspicions aren’t enough.

“Not directly,” Oliver admits. “But he was there when you woke up.”

“So were you,” I point out, immediately regretting my words as I see a flicker of hurt cross Oliver’s face. I quickly add, “And now I know it wasn’t you. So maybe he was just there because he came home and saw me, like he told you.”

“Maybe,” Misha relents, but I can see that all of them have their minds set on this.

Hendricks is the primary suspect, and I’m not sure how to process that.

I look at each of them in turn, taking in their concerned expressions.

Hendricks stealing my work?

It doesn’t make sense yet… could it be true?

The thought makes my stomach churn.

Misha notices my discomfort and hands me a Twizzlers from his own bag, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Here, Bug. Take a break and eat something. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” I say softly, biting into the candy and letting the sweetness flood my mouth.

“We’re still trying to find more evidence as well as Hendricks’ location to visit and ask him about it ourselves,” Misha continues. “But the whole thing proves to be more difficult than we thought. At least now that we’re back, we can concentrate solely on getting you your work back.”

“You don’t have to,” I say, feeling guilt creep up my spine like an icy finger. “You have so much to do with perfecting and launching Jamie and—”

“Princess?” Grey interrupts, reaching out to nudge my chin up with his knuckle, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. “Shut up.” He leans in and kisses me, letting me taste the salt and vinegar of the chips on his lips. It’s a brief kiss, but it’s enough to silence my protests and doubts, at least for the moment.

I do as I’m told, munching on my Twizzlers as I lean back in my chair. No matter what happens, I have a support system I can rely on. And that, I think to myself, makes all the damn difference in the world.

Oliver

“Goddamn.”

I let my head fall back into the cushions and put aside the romance novel I’d spotted on Amelia’s nightstand before our London trip. Curiosity got the better of me, and I ended up buying a copy for myself. Now, I push my glasses up and pinch the bridge of my nose, my mind reeling from what I’ve just read .

That scene was… scorching. The guy in the book instructed his girl to sit on his face and proceeded to devour her like a man starved. I reach down and give my rock-hard cock a squeeze through my pajama pants.

I’ve been unbelievably horny lately. Ever since I got a taste of her, it’s all I can think about.

That, and the thought of actually being with her. How it would feel. Whether I’d fuck it up. But honestly, I don’t think even that would be too terrible.

Somehow, she’s managed to quell most of my anxiety about it. I know she’d never make fun of me because she’s utterly perfect. Like she was made just for me.

Fine, made just for us.

I reach for my phone and notice it’s already after two a.m. I really need to sort out this jet lag. But the fact that she told us she wanted to spend the evening setting up her new laptop at home alone doesn’t help my whirling thoughts. I hate that I still feel like she’s pushing us away, even though we talked about it. But I get it. I really do.

We messed up big time.

I can be patient a little while longer.

As long as she won’t run again, I’m golden.

Before I finally try to sleep, I decide to send Amelia a quick text in our private chat.

Thinking about you.

Removing my glasses, I place them and my phone on the bedside table. My hands come to rest on my bare chest, and I turn my head, inhaling the lavender scent of my pillow. I’m imagining her lying next to me when my phone chimes.

I perk up and hastily put my glasses back on to find a message from Amelia.

Come and hold me?

I drop the phone, practically leaping out of bed. Without a second thought, I dash out of our apartment and take the stairs two at a time down to hers. Outside her door, I knock, and a moment later, she opens it, a smile spreading across her lips as her eyes roam over me.

I’m only in my pajama pants, having even forgotten to put on shoes. She’s wearing an adorable strawberry print T-shirt with matching shorts, but her eyes are suspiciously red behind her glasses.

Has she been crying?

“That was quick,” she says, her tone dripping with amusement.

“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling a bit sheepish.

She laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out, and pulls me into the apartment. After she locks the door and double-checks it, she takes my hand and leads me to her dimly lit bedroom.

As we enter, I try to steady my breath, focusing on masking the rapid thud of my heart—from the sprint and her presence—but it’s no use. We lie down, and I draw her close to me, spooning her from behind, my arms encircling her as I burrow my nose in her hair.

Mine.

Maybe she’s finally done with pushing me away.

She strokes my forearms while I deeply inhale her scent, my favorite lavender, and her fragrance fills my nostrils.

“Why are you still up?” she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Because I was fantasizing about tasting you again.

“Why are you?” I counter instead. When I feel her turning, I loosen my hold on her so she can face me, but she doesn’t answer.

I stroke her cheek, counting the freckles on her nose while we just breathe together.

Thirty-six.

A perfect square—an integer with inherent symmetry and stability.

My favorite number.

Her eyes zero in on my lips, and she licks hers. “Can I kiss you?” she whispers before her eyes find mine again.

“I could be on my deathbed, and my answer to that question would still be an unwavering ye—” Before I can finish, she interrupts me with a kiss.

It’s soft and tender at first but quickly deepens as I pour all my longing into it. I cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her silky hair as I pull her even closer, drawing our bodies flush against each other.

I’m lost in the sensation of her lips on mine, her hands on my chest. It’s like I’ve been starved for her touch, and now that I have it, I can’t get enough. My heart races, and I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us.

Her hands start to roam, her touch light and teasing, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m hard as steel, straining against the fabric of my pants. Too soon, she pulls away, her eyes dark with desire as she reaches down and lifts her shirt over her head, revealing her naked torso. My breath hitches in my throat as I take in the sight of her perfection, the soft glow of the nightstand lamp illuminating her pale skin.

She takes my hand and guides it towards her breast. “I want your hands on my body,” she whispers, her voice husky.

The feel of her soft flesh beneath my fingers sends a jolt of electricity straight to my groin. I cup her, marveling at how perfectly sized her breasts are in my hands. She leans in and kisses me again, and I squeeze her breast, my thumb brushing over her hard nipple. Our mouths part as she moans, and her body arches into my touch.

My confidence soars as I realize that I’m drawing these reactions from her. Just me , the guy who was afraid to even speak to her for years. “That okay?” I whisper against her lips.

“Yes,” she breathes out, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. “I love everything you do. Please don’t stop touching me.”

Her words doubly affirm my confidence to explore her body further. I push her gently to lie on her back before lowering my head, capturing her nipple in my mouth, and she gasps, her fingers threading through my hair as I tease and suckle her.

I move to the other breast, giving it the same attention, while my other hand caresses the side of her body, tracing the curve of her waist and hip. She squirms beneath me, her body responding to my touch in the most intoxicating way. I want to memorize the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, and the sound of her moans. I want to imprint this moment on my soul because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am irrevocably in love with her.

Until my heart gives out.

Coming up to kiss her again, my heart pounds in my chest as Amelia reaches down between us, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. Breaking the kiss, she pulls them down, revealing the soft, smooth skin beneath. She kicks them off, leaving her completely bare to me, and the sight of her is enough to make my mouth go dry.

Fuck.

She places a hand on my chest and pushes me flat onto my back, following to lean over me. My head falls against the pillows, and she keeps her hand right above my heart, her blue eyes fixed on the exaggerated rise and fall of it. And I do the same to her, watching in awe at the way her chest heaves with heavy breaths that easily fall into sync with my own.

Then, her hand trails down my stomach, and she reaches for my waistband, drawing a shudder from me as her fingers brush against my hard-on. She pauses, concern on her beautiful face as she says, “It’s okay if you want to keep them on. I didn’t mean to—”

I push up to my elbows and interrupt her with a kiss as I tug my pants down, my cock springing free, eager for her touch.

She hovers over me, her gaze locked on mine as her long hair cascades down like a curtain, framing us. “Can I… can I touch you?”

Where is that insecurity coming from?

As if I would ever say no to her touch.

“Amelia…” I smile, reaching out to push a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m yours.”

She wraps her hand around my shaft, her fingers barely able to close around me, a small smile tugs at the side of her lip. She strokes me slowly, her touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body.

God, why is this so good?

I reach out and find my way between her thighs, parting and stroking her in return. Our breaths come faster and faster as we lose ourselves in the sensation of giving and taking pleasure from each other.

“You feel so good,” I murmur against her lips, my thumb finding her clit and circling it slowly.

She moans, her grip on me tightening as her hips rock against my hand.

“So do you,” she breathes out, her strokes quickening.

I feel my orgasm building, the familiar tingling sensation growing at the base of my spine. But I don’t want to come like this. So, I take her wrist, stilling her movements, and her forehead comes to rest on mine. “Everything okay?”

Smiling, I whisper in her ear. “I did some research, and I found something I’d like to try.”

She leans back to look at me and raises an eyebrow, a playful smile gracing her lips. “What kind of research?” she asks, her tone teasing. “Oliver, did you watch porn?”

I chuckle, shaking my head, the corners of my mouth tugging into a smile as I push another strand of stray hair behind her ear. “It’s from a romance book,” I confess, feeling a bit sheepish as the words leave my lips.

She groans before whispering, “Why are you so perfect?”

You’re fucking perfect.

“So, you’re willing to try?” I ask, my heart pounding, anticipation thrumming through my veins.

She pulls back, her brow furrowing in that endearingly quizzical way. “Try what exactly?”

“I want to taste you,” I murmur, my tone dropping as I lean in closer. “I want to savor you while you sit on my face.” There, I said it.

Her breath hitches, and a flush creeps up her neck. “Oliver, that’s…” she starts, her voice trailing off as she searches for the right words. “I’ve never done that before. It’s not something you have to do. It’s… more of a thing guys do in books.”

Oh, I bet Grey and Misha would disagree with that statement.

I reach up and cup her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her jaw with my thumb.

“Are you telling me no because you genuinely don’t want to?” I can’t quite tell, but I would never make her do anything she doesn’t want .

She hesitates, her gaze dropping to my chest as she considers her response. “I… I didn’t tell you no,” she finally whispers when her eyes come back up to mine.

“Perfect.” I grin, removing my glasses and placing them on her nightstand, but I pause when she doesn’t move.

Maybe if we both see a little blurry, it will help with the nerves.

I reach up to take her glasses off as well, setting them right next to mine. Then, with a gentle nudge, I guide her to straddle my face as her hands find purchase on the headboard.

There’s a moment of stillness, a suspended breath, as she looks down at me, uncertainty flickering in her stormy blue eyes.

I meet that storm with my own and say, “Come here,” with such conviction that any lingering doubts she might have evaporate.

Her breath hitches as I pull her down. The first touch of my lips against her sends a jolt through both of us. I kiss and lick and suck, losing myself in her taste, the feel of her squirming against my face, and the sounds of her pleasure that grow louder, more insistent with each passing second. My hands grip her hips, guiding her movements as I focus on her clit, teasing it with the tip of my tongue, relishing the way her body responds to my touch.

“Oh my God, Oliver,” she gasps out, her body trembling above me. “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

I have no intention of stopping.

I want to bring her to the brink and watch her fall apart, to be the one who makes her feel good, who makes her forget about everything else except for this moment. It’s a powerful feeling to hold someone’s pleasure in your hands—or, in this case, on your tongue—to be the source of their ecstasy .

Her ecstasy.

No one else’s.

The sound of her whimpering, the desperate need in her voice, spurs me on. My fingers dig into her hips, pulling her harder against my mouth as her taste becomes my sole obsession, a craving that could very well become an addiction.

I tease, I lap, I graze. Working her closer to that cliff until her whole body stiffens above me, and then…

… she comes.

Hard.

A rush saturates my chin with her essence as her scream fills the room, the vibration of her release trembling through her into me. For a moment, she’s in pure, blissful stasis.

And I want to drown in her release.

Pulling away and looking down at me, she’s shaking and barely able to control the raggedness of her breathing. But she moves herself backward to straddle my waist and collapses against me.

My heart won’t quit its chaotic rhythm—not with Amelia sprawled, beautifully spent, across me. Her cheek lands against the center of my chest as she gathers her breath, softening my erratic pulse, little by little, just with the simple reassurance of her closeness.

Cupping her face and tilting her head upward so I can gauge the truth in her eyes, I ask, “Was it… okay?”

It’s an unnecessary question given the way she just came on my face, but it still tumbles from my lips, fueled by an overwhelming desire for reassurance that this night truly is the heaven on Earth she made it feel like.

Amelia lifts her head off my chest and offers a shy yet stunningly brilliant smile that renders my inquiry inconsequential. “Okay? Even amazing isn’t a good enough word to explain how good this was,” she whispers as she draws me in for another kiss. My heart soars at her enthusiastic approval. She strokes my cheek when she offers, “Let me make you feel amazing too.”

She moves to kiss my jaw, neck, chest—a tantalizingly slow, southbound trajectory. But I’m desperate for another kind of closeness. I need more from her. I want it all, even the things I can’t begin to grasp the nuances of quite yet.

Before she can fully pull away, my hands circle around her waist to still her. “I want more,” I confess. “More of everything… of… us.”

My heart hammers against my ribcage as I gaze into Amelia’s eyes, the weight of my words hanging between us. Her eyes soften, and she brushes a lock of hair off my forehead, her touch tender and reassuring. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

I nod, my grip on her waist tightening. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

It’s the truth.

Even if nothing is certain, my love for her is.

Her smile is like a sunrise, breaking through the last of my nerves. “I want more of us, too,” she murmurs, her hand reaching down between us to wrap around my length.

My breath catches as she guides me to her entrance, the heat of her on the tip of my cock almost undoing me before we’ve even begun, and there’s a tremor in my hands as I struggle to maintain control.

The fact that she’s willing to share this with me—even if I have no idea what I’m doing—is more than I could have ever hoped for.

“Let’s just… go slow,” I manage, fighting the overwhelming urge to thrust up into her. I need this to be good for her too.

Or at least not terrible .

“Okay,” she agrees, her eyes never leaving mine as she slowly lowers herself onto me.

The sensation is indescribable—a tight, wet heat that envelops me completely. My hands instinctively slide down to grip her hips, and I feel her wince as she adjusts to the intrusion. She pauses, and sweat beads on my forehead from the effort of keeping still. The connection between us is electric, and I’m acutely aware of every small movement she makes.

“Are you okay?” I whisper when she doesn’t move.

I need to know that she’s all right, that I’m not causing her pain.

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s just… um… you’re big.”

“Too big?” I ask, worried about her and prepared to pull out.

But she just chuckles. “Not at all. It’s just a stretch.” I furrow my brows, and she leans down to peck my lips. “A very good one.”

She moves again, and there’s a brief moment of resistance, but then I’m sliding inside her to the hilt, the feeling so intense that I let out a low moan as she whimpers next to my ear.

“I love you,” she whispers before she sits up again and begins to move with her palms on my chest—small, tentative rocks of her hips that soon morph into a rhythm.

I let her set the pace, watching her face as she rides me. Her eyes are closed now, her lips parted in a silent moan.

I reach up to cup her breasts, then rub my thumbs over her nipples. She gasps, throwing her head back in pleasure. Her hair reaches my thighs and tickles me, not helping the least with the overstimulation.

Encouraged by her seemingly enjoying it as much as I am, I start to thrust up from under her, matching her rhythm. My eyes drift shut, and a low moan escapes my lips as I give myself over to the feeling of her surrounding me, and I find myself teetering on the edge much sooner than I’d like.

“Amelia, I—” The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m overcome by a rush of sensation.

Holy shit.

It’s an intense, all-consuming release that leaves me gasping for breath, my heart pounding in my chest as my body arches off the bed, and I spill myself inside her.

When the world finally comes back into focus, I find Amelia leaning over me, her expression filled with tenderness. “Perfect,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

When she tries to sit up again, I grab the back of her head and pull her back down to me. “I love you,” I whisper against her lips before kissing her again.

The words feel inadequate to express the depth of what I feel for her, but they’re all I have.

All I feel.

Us.