Chapter 11

Amelia

Sunlight filtering through the blinds wakes me, and I open my eyes to tangled sheets. I close them, enjoying the feeling of being in Riley's arms. His chest rises and falls steadily against my back, and his breath tickles my neck. This comforting feeling is nice, until reality hits me.

I really think that he knows. There's no mistaking the look of someone piecing together a puzzle. My secret online life—the one I've guarded so fiercely—it's on the verge of being uncovered.

Despite the gnawing anxiety, there's still that sense of safety that Riley shows. It's been there since our first encounter, a protectiveness that brings a calmness. He's never pushed too hard or stepped out of line—not really.

I let out a slow breath. Trusting him feels risky, but the potential payoff... it could be everything.

"Morning," Riley murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Hey," I reply, my tone lighter than I feel. I roll over and face him to see genuine warmth in his sleepy smile. His blue eyes search mine, and I wonder how much truth he’s already seen.

"Sleep well?" he asks, thumb brushing a rogue strand of hair from my forehead.

"Like a log," I lie smoothly, my own fingers tracing the defined planes of his jawline. I want to hold onto the lightness for a little longer, to bask in the ignorance-is-bliss phase before reality interrupts.

"Good," he says, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "You looked... peaceful."

"Thanks to you, maybe." I let the words hang between us, a playful challenge, an invitation to read between the lines.

"Princess..." His gaze lingers on mine, and I see the unspoken question there. He's close, so close to guessing, to uncovering the truth I've hidden behind layers of sarcasm and nonchalance.

"Let's grab some food first," I suggest, sliding out of bed. As I move away, I throw a glance over my shoulder, a sly smirk on my lips. "Maybe afterward, I'll give you a tour of the parts of me you haven't discovered yet."

His laughter follows me out of the room, a sound that warms my heart.

***

The morning melts into the afternoon. Riley lounges on the couch, one arm slung over the back, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. "So, this is what an off-day looks like for Amelia Brooks?" he teases with a grin.

"Thrilling, isn't it?" I quip, flipping through channels without really watching. The weight of my secret presses against my chest. We've been doing this dance of casual conversation and lingering looks, but the more we skirt around the secret I’m holding, the heavier the weight feels.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. His blue eyes hold concern, and I nod, plastering on a small smile.

"Perfect," I lie, pushing down the urge to blurt out everything right then and there. Because the truth is, as much as I want to reveal my OnlyFans alter ego to him, fear keeps my mouth shut. Fear of judgment, of rejection. Nonetheless, somewhere deep inside, I know that holding back might cost me more than just honesty—it might cost me us.

"Come here," he says, patting the cushion next to him. I obey, settling in against him. He smells like fresh soap and something woodsy, a scent that's becoming all too familiar in a way that tugs at my heartstrings.

"Riley..." I start, the words catching in my throat. Before I can finish, the oven timer dings, offering a reprieve. Saved by the bell—or in this case, the promise of homemade lasagna.

We make our way to the kitchen bar, filling our plates with steaming layers of pasta and cheese. Conversation flows easily as we eat, and it feels natural. As the meal ends and we settle into a comfortable silence, nursing glasses of red wine, the elephant in the room grows larger.

"Your place has character," Riley remarks, swirling his glass. His gaze drifts past me, fixating on something behind my back. The studio door. My stomach tightens as I follow his line of sight.

"Thanks," I say, voice barely above a whisper. The room seems to shrink, the walls closing in with each glance he sneaks at the door.

"Is there a reason why that door is closed when you keep all other doors open, even your closest doors?" he asks, the question hanging in the air like a dare.

"Everyone has their secrets, don't they?" I deflect, offering a wry smile. There's a truth in my joke. How long can I keep him wondering? How long until the questions become too pointed?

"Guess so," he replies, taking a sip of wine, his eyes never leaving mine.

I draw a deep breath, knowing I'm on borrowed time. I should tell him, let him in completely. I imagine the relief of no longer hiding, coupled with the terror of being seen. It's a dangerous game I'm playing, one where the stakes are getting higher with every second I choose silence.

"Princess?" Riley's voice pulls me back from the edge of my thoughts.

"Uh-huh?" I manage, fidgeting with the stem of my wine glass.

"Whatever's behind that door... it's part of you. And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna like it." He says it with such certainty, an assurance wrapped in those simple words, it makes my heart race in a way that's terrifying.

"Maybe you will," I murmur, meeting his gaze.

"Whenever you're ready," he adds softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. It’s the very thing that I need to find the courage to do what I need to do.

"Actually," I begin, my voice steadier than I expect, "I did promise you a full tour of what I haven't shown you yet." The words tumble out before I can second-guess them, a surge of boldness igniting within me.

I stand up, smoothing down my shirt as I feel Riley's gaze follow my hands. There’s a deliberate sway in my hips and a playful smirk on my lips while I walk towards him. He watches me closely as I reach for his hand, my fingers sliding between his.

"Come on," I coax, gently tugging him off the barstool. There's mischief in my voice, but underneath my skin, my pulse is running a marathon. I lead him across the living room, each step feeling like a block on the barriers being knocked down between the persona I've built and the person I truly am.

We stop in front of the studio door, and I release his hand. I slowly turn the doorknob, pushing it open to reveal the hidden part of my world. With one step, I’m inside and flicking on the lights, lighting up the space where I become someone else entirely.

"This is my studio," I say, sweeping my arm around the room filled with photography equipment, costumes hanging in the closet, and a green wig resting on a mannequin head. Every inch of this room is a testament to my double life.

Riley steps in, taking in the details, his expression unreadable. My stomach knots as I brace myself for judgment, for disappointment, for the end of something that's barely had a chance to begin.

"I work online," I confess, the words spilling out in a rush. "On OnlyFans." My eyes dart to his face, searching for a reaction—any reaction—that might give away his thoughts.

"I create content, disguised but fully exposed," I continue, my heart hammering against my ribcage. "It's... it's how I make ends meet." I'm laying it all out and entrusting him.

"It's very much a secret that no one else can find out about." My voice softens to a whisper. The truth hangs between us. It’s fragile and could either bind us together or shatter.

"Amelia," Riley begins, turning to face me. His blue eyes hold mine, intense and searching. I brace for impact, ready for whatever comes next.

Instead of words, he pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me in a gesture that feels like shelter. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. In his tight and strong arms, I find a moment of peace and a glimmer of hope that my trust hasn't been misplaced.

Riley kisses my forehead and pulls back from his hold to look at me. His smile is warm and accepting.

"Pick something out for me," I challenge Riley, a playful edge to my voice as I swing open the closet doors wide. The costumes are a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, remnants of my online persona's many lives.

He takes the few steps over, and his fingers graze sequins and lace before pausing on a crimson corset that’s all about sin and sophistication. "This one," he says with a wide smile.

"Bold choice," I reply, though my heart skips at the thought of slipping into the role he's selected. My hands are surprisingly steady as I dress in the costume, and the snug fit of the corset is a familiar comfort.

"Wow," Riley breathes out when I turn to face him.

"Let's save this moment, shall we?" I suggest, snagging my phone from the vanity. The camera app comes to life with a tap.

"Here, you take it," I say, handing him the phone after setting it to portrait mode. The lens captures us, the backdrop of my studio blurred behind our figures.

"Smile," Riley teases, but I stick out my tongue instead, the click of the shutter freezing our laughter onto the screen. We carry on playfully and candid, swapping poses between chuckles—him pretending to be scandalized by the corset's boldness, me feigning shock at his mock horror.

"Okay, serious now," I instruct, but there's nothing serious about the way my pulse dances or how close he stands. His arm wraps around my waist as we pose.

"Perfect," he murmurs, and I'm not sure if he means the photo or the proximity. Yet when I peek at the image, I see it—the genuine smiles, the spark in our eyes. These are snapshots of our pure connection.

"Enough evidence for one day," I laugh, locking the phone and tucking it away. The costume stays on, though.

"Mr. Watson," I say as the character slips from my lips. “I’m yours for the taking. Are you here to breed me tonight, Sir?” He’s lying, stretched out on the bed, with a dirty little smirk on his face.

"Oh, Princess," he growls. "Surrender to me." He jumps up like the athlete he is, picks me up, and tosses me on the bed. His hands roam over the curve of my hips, dipping into the persona as easily as he slips beneath the layers of my chosen costume. There's no hesitation in his touch, no sign of Riley the hockey captain, just the bold caress of a lover on a quest to procreate.