Xiomara, the new maid was on time. Her purple hair was tied up in a high ponytail and her scandalous bodycon dress clung to her skin like white on rice as she entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Willem," she said. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I live here."

Xiomara opened the fridge and took out a yogurt. Peeling the plastic cover on top, she dug in with a spoon. "Well, I barely see you here, I forgot."

"Are you going to pay for that?"

"Hey, this is included in my contract, okay." She waved the spoon at me, chuckling, her Spanish accent thick and lovely.

I smiled and shook my head. "Get to work. The laundry won't wash itself."

"Whatever you say, boss."

I grabbed flour, baking powder, eggs, vanilla essence, salt, and sugar, and got to work. I was making old fashioned pancakes just like my mother used to make them. Hopefully, Amelia would like them enough to give us a second chance.

Last night with Amelia hadn't gone as planned. She'd walked away in a mood and I knew that chasing after her wouldn't have solved anything. The fact remained that we needed to talk. This is why this morning I asked Filo to summon Amelia to breakfast so I could woo her with my mother's famous pancakes.

Somewhere between meeting Amelia for the first time, getting a taste of her anger followed by the taste of her luscious mouth, and the disastrous ending to last night's dinner, I started craving her.

She got under my skin — in a good way — and for the first time in eleven years, I was intrigued by a woman. I wanted to get to know her on a deeper, more intimate level.

When I wrote her that letter asking her to come here, I never expected this much chemistry between us and I had no plans of getting to know her better. Our marriage was over after I wrote her my final letter five years ago asking her to reach out to me if she wanted anything to do with me and our marriage. And for five years all I got was radio silence.

Then one day it occurred to me that Amelia wasn't the one in charge. Her father was. That's when I threatened to mess with his pension and his shares in the company. And voila, here she was.

It was just after nine when she breezed into the kitchen wearing a yellow romper with white flowers on it that barely covered her round ass and had a dip so deep at the front her cleavage was on full display. Amelia had to be the sexiest doctor I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

And that dirty mouth of hers was unexpected but so hot at the same time. It made my dick hard every time she said the word 'fuck'. Harder than I've ever felt it.

I wanted her more and more each passing day.

Pursuing her couldn't be only about the sex, I knew that. She deserved so much better and I was going to give her that and more.

"You called for me?" she asked, turning up her nose as if I was beneath her and had no right to request her presence.

"Yes, have a seat. I thought we could have breakfast together. Aren't you hungry?"

Amelia remained standing, brown eyes roaming over my face skeptically. "Why are you doing this? Being nice when clearly there's nothing left here."

I stopped mixing the batter. "You're giving up on us already?"

"Aren't you?" She crossed her arm, her walls going up hard and fast.

"I promised you thirty days. I think we owe it to ourselves to try."

She walked around the kitchen island and came to a stop less than an arm's length away from me. The woman was so damn alluring and sensual in a way that was totally unobtrusive. The grey streaks in her hair were sexy as fuck and I liked how pristine her skin looked without any makeup on.

I was used to women throwing themselves at me, flirting shamelessly, but not Amelia. She remained poised, almost regal, her heart an icebox.

"And what would that look like? Trying?" she asked casually, her voice gentle, no trace left of last night's emotional explosion.

"Us talking, getting to know each other," I answered.

"That's it?" She practically laughed in my face.

"Or we can skip the talking. I know another way we can get to know each other and it requires us to take our clothes off." I winked but one look at her face told me that she wasn't amused. I put the skillet on the stove, letting it get hot before adding butter. "Seriously, let's give this marriage thing a try. I know we're strangers and you don't know anything about me or what kind of man I am, but your mother, she saw us together. She knew me well."

"Don't talk about my mother. She died trying to please your family and you couldn't be bothered to go to her funeral."

"Amelia, I'm sorry. Your father told me you were grieving, that you didn't want to see me. That you associated your mother's death with our wedding and having me there was just too much." I lowered the heat under the pan after adding the first pancake. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore your wishes?"

"I wanted you there. You don't know how good it felt to have you there for those first two days. You were a stranger, yes, a stranger who knew my mother and could tell me stories about her time in Sint. Maarten working for your family and then becoming best friends with your mother."

"My mother was at the funeral."

"I don't recall meeting her."

I flipped pancake number one. "Did you talk to your father?"

"Not yet. He broke my heart and I still don't know who to believe, you or him."

I heard the sadness in her voice and I just wanted to pull her near and hug her. But the way she was leaning against the island with her arms crossed defensively, I knew better.

"Do you mind taking the bacon strips out of the fridge and putting them in the oven?" I asked. Maybe helping me would help ease the tension in the room a bit.

When she bent over to retrieve the bacon, her romper rode further up her thighs, exposing more of her ass cheeks.

I cleared my throat. "And the eggs too, can you get those as well? How do you like your eggs?"

My voice was deep with desire, but Amelia didn't seem to notice. With her head still in the fridge, she answered, "Doesn't really matter, but I guess scrambled is fine."

"Scrambled it is."

"Are we going to the beach after this?" she asked, coming back up.

I frowned.

"Filo mentioned breakfast and the beach. That's why I'm dressed like this."

"Oh, right. We can go this afternoon. I have some business to deal with after breakfast." I pushed my curls off my forehead.

What kind of game was Filo playing? And why hadn't it occurred to me to make plans for the woman

I was trying to convince to stay married to me? Amelia was going to get bored sitting in that house all day.

"Willem," Amelia called.

"Yeah?"

"You're letting the pancakes burn."

"Shit." I flipped the burnt pancake, but it was too far gone, leaving me no choice but to throw it in the garbage.

Amelia laughed, her voice sultry and low. She placed the bacon on a baking sheet and shoved them in the oven like a pro. This woman knew her way around the kitchen and I liked that. Having a five-star chef in the kitchen was great and all, but sometimes a man just needed a home-cooked meal without the fancy garnish.

"If you keep staring at me like that, you're going to burn all the pancakes."

"Let them burn, schatje."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's not waste food, okay."

After I cooked the rest of the pancakes and scrambled the eggs, we sat down next to each other at the table facing the beach to eat. When my leg touched her thighs under the table, she didn't pull away. I watched her as she ate. She was a proper lady, using knife and fork, dapping at her lips at regular intervals.

"I met Jessie today," Amelia declared.

I sputtered. "Jessie was here?"

"She doesn't seem nice and she talks way too much." Amelia paused, waiting on me to say something. When I didn't, her tone changed. "She was rather territorial when it came to you. Do you know anything about that?"

I took a sip of my orange juice, unsure how much to tell her about Jessie. "Jessie and I, we had a thing."

"Call as it is, Willem. You had an affair with Jessie while married to me."

I didn't want to be having this conversation. Not now. Not when Amelia still hated my guts. I wanted something more with this woman and to start off by telling her that I cheated, was not the way to go.

"It happened after I stopped sending the letters. I was lonely... fuck!" I stood up and pushed my chair back. "Don't do this to me. I'm not a cheater, Amelia. You left me no choice."

"What does your cheating have to do with me?"

"Everything," I whispered, sitting back down defeated. "You weren't here."

She crossed her arms and all of a sudden her leg was no longer touching mine. The distance between us was as large as the Atlantic Ocean and right now we were drowning in it.

"I could say the same for you, Willem, and yet I never entertained another man in my bed. I now regret that decision." The pain in her voice was evident, making me feel like an ass.

Which I was.

My affair with Jessie may have lasted a few years, but I could count on one hand how many times we saw each other in a romantic capacity. There were nine encounters over a span of four years and five occasions where we fucked.

Reaching out, I covered Amelia's hand on the table. She made a fist and looked up at me with large, sad eyes. I hadn't expected her to be this hurt about my indiscretion. That alone said a lot about me as a man and how much respect I had for this marriage.

But that was going to change.

"Amelia, I made a mistake. I didn't respect our vows and for that I'm sorry. Nothing I say now can undo what happened. I deserve whatever you're feeling. Your anger is valid and I know your pain is real even though I was never your husband in the true sense of the word."

She tried to pull her hand away, but I held on, needing her to listen to me. "I take full responsibility for cheating on you, but you have to understand these weren't normal circumstances. Eleven years is a long time to stay celibate."

"I know that. Maybe I'm not being reasonable."

The corners of my lips lifted in a small smile. "No, schatje, you are. I betrayed you."

"Let's not make this a bigger deal than it actually is. You're right, you're not my husband, not really." She shrugged and looked out toward the ocean, looking conflicted.

"I want to be. From now on I want to be."

This woman was everything I ever wanted in a wife. Based on how she carried herself with such poise, her emotions seemingly in check and yet spurting like hot lava out of a volcano and then gradually burning everything in its path, I knew she'd be able to challenge me and keep things interesting.

And, she was physically perfect. Gorgeous features, her eyes, nose, and mouth nicely proportioned within her oval face. Thick lips that were meant for kissing. Gray streaked hair that I couldn't wait to rake my hand through when I held her close.

It was the way she couldn't hide her feelings when I told her that I wanted to be her husband from now on. She didn't want to be alone, but at the same time, she didn't want to settle with just anyone and call it a day. I respected that.

"You really think we stand a chance as a married couple?" she asked. This time when she moved her hand away I didn't pursue her. "Everything that could have gone wrong with this marriage has gone wrong. There's no trust, no loyalty and we suck at communicating."

"I've carried a lot of guilt with me, Amelia. From the day I left you in that hospital. My reasons for marrying you were selfish, but I want to continue, well, start this marriage over because I sense something special between us."

"Yeah, what's that?"

I leaned forward, closing the gap between our bodies. Our chemistry was insane, therefore I acted on it, reaching out to caress her chin. Her lashes fluttered and then lowered, her gaze following my hand as I grazed her full lips with my thumb.

"I know you feel it too," I said, my voice husky.

She looked directly at me. "I can feel how warm your hand is, the calluses on there, how assertive your touch is, but I don't feel—"

I kissed her then. Kissed her like I've never kissed a woman before. Her lips were soft pillows, gliding with silk-like precision, accepting. Grabbing her chin, I deepened the kiss and she responded, her tongue coming forward to dance with mine.

I groaned, loving the taste of her mouth. I wanted to devour her, to strip her naked. I couldn't wait to study her curves, to feel the weight of her breasts in my palms, to taste her core, her nectar on my tongue.

After all that, I would spread her legs further apart to accommodate my hard cock. I would take her hard and fast, and she was going to love every thick inch of me.

But I didn't do any of that. This kiss was everything.

She clung to me, hand stealing behind my neck to bring me closer. I obliged, breaking contact for a second to have her sit in my lap.

Her body was warm and soft, so feminine. She smelled like fruits growing in the summer. I wrapped my strong arms around her waist as our lips met again in a beautiful frenzy. She whimpered and it turn into a moan when I grabbed her right ass cheek, my fingers working beneath her romper to find her wet pussy.

Her love liquid spilled over my fingers as I continued to caress her slit and rub her clit.

"Oh, Willem," she cried when I plunged my middle finger into her tight cunt.

I looked up into her face and she looked shocked. She bit her lip and I reached up, pulling on her bottom lip until she released them. I covered her mouth with mine and a moment later, the tension eased out of her body and she was wiggling her ass on my hand.

I flexed my finger inside her and she arched her back, lifting her body off my lap. I had every intention of making her come on it. And then on my cock next.

So I forced her back down. I held her tightly as I finger fucked her. She was moaning and panting at this point and I could feel her muscles contracting. I couldn't believe how tight she was.

"Oh my god," she cried. "This is... this is..."

"This is what, schatje? Too much? Do you want me to stop?"

"I don't know what I want."

"Say you want me," I urged.

When she didn't answer, I eased my finger out of her heated channel. I placed my hand on her chest, pushing her back a little so that she was fully leaning on me. She fit perfectly.

Using the split at the front of her romper, I shoved material aside to reveal her full breasts.

"Baby, you're a fucking goddess," I said before I covered one dark pointed nipple with my mouth.

Her hand shot out to grab my curls. She was moaning again and if she kept this up, I was going to spread her open on the kitchen table and then I was going to bury my cock deep inside her way too tight pussy.

"Spread those legs for me, schatje. Do you want me to finger you again?"

She nodded and spread her legs, her eyes dark with desire.

"Do you want me?" I asked.

"Yes, I want you," she replied, her voice raspy and sexy as sin.

I was about to finger her wet cunt when I heard voices nearby. My head snapped up, but it was already too late. Filo and Tessa were standing in the doorway.

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Schatje is a Dutch endearment and it can be loosely translated to mean 'Darling, Sweetheart or Treasured One.'