by Emma Lea
The lights were on the tree, all the food was out on the tables and Zoë had no more excuses to avoid Blake. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to avoid him, it was more that if she didn’t avoid him then she didn’t think she’d be able to restrain herself from climbing him like a tree.
Which would be bad…right?
God, she was so confused. He was supposed to be there as a buffer, she wasn’t supposed to feel attracted to him. She wasn’t supposed to start believing her own lies. But every time he touched her—hell, every time he looked at her—she felt like she was falling more and more for their fake romance.
But it was all for show…wasn’t it?
Of course it was. The only reason she was feeling this…attraction…was because it had been months since her split from Tanner. Months since she’d had a satisfying O with someone other than Mr. Happypants—her rabbit vibe. A mechanically assisted orgasm might take the edge off but it was nothing compared to getting there with a warm body, especially when he looked like Blake.
She lifted her cold beer bottle to her face and pressed it to her cheeks. The heat was killing her. No, she wasn’t blushing, it was just the sweltering summer heat. It had nothing to do with the things she’d like to do with Blake.
“Hey.” His voice slid over her and she barely stopped herself from jumping as he came up behind her and slid his hands around her waist.
“Hey yourself,” she said, facing him.
“The tree looks good,” he said, turning them to face the monster that Grandpa Jones had brought. Seriously. Every year her grandfather took it as a personal challenge to find the biggest tree he could. They barely lasted the week, what with the heat and all, but he insisted on having a real Christmas tree when a fake one would be far more practical.
“It’s not done yet,” she said, turning in his arms and sighing as she leaned back against his chest.
“What’s missing?” he asked.
To the untrained eye, the tree looked perfect. The white lights twinkled merrily and this year’s colour theme—red, pale green and white—was represented by the shiny, coloured ornaments that adorned the branches. There was no tinsel, but the tree didn’t need it. Her mother was a bit of a Christmas tree snob and she had personally directed the placement of every single bauble. No one could argue that she’d created the perfect tree.
“This is the bit my mum’s not all that keen on,” Zoë said, her mouth splitting in a grin. “The kids’ ornaments.”
“Kids’ ornaments?”
Zoë nodded. “You know the ones we all make in school and then bring home and demand they be hung on the tree?”
Blake looked down at her, his eyebrows pulled down in a frown. “Uh, no?”
She turned so she could see him. “You never made Christmas decorations at school?”
“Well, sure, but they got tossed out with all the other crap we made at school.”
Zoë’s eyes popped wide. “Seriously?” when he nodded, she shook her head. “My mother has kept every painting and craft object me and my sisters ever made. She has a box for each of us and she keeps it in the shed. The Christmas decorations we made are all wrapped in tissue paper and packed away with the rest of the Christmas stuff.”
“Okay, so if she keeps it all, why doesn’t she like the part where it goes on the tree?”
“Look at that tree,” Zoë said, flinging her arm toward the towering pine. “It’s magazine perfect. Now imagine it with twelve years of handmade decorations from nine kids…I’ll give you a minute.”
He grinned down at her. “Your mother has one hundred and eight handmade decorations to go on that tree?”
“Give or take,” Zoë said.
“Shit,” Blake said with a laugh, tugging her back against his chest. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the intimacy of the moment. “So what would she rather do with them?” he asked.
Zoë pointed to the thick swags of fake pine boughs that had been hung across the ceiling. “She’d rather we attached them to those but every year she gets shouted down by the family.”
Just then her mum came into the pavilion carrying the first of the boxes that contained the ornaments. She sat it down and looked longingly at the tree and then looked up at the swags but sighed without saying anything. Instead, she lifted her phone and took a picture of the tree…lots of pictures of the tree as it was. Zoë laughed.
“What’s she doing?” Blake whispered in her ear and Zoë shivered as his warm breath tickled the skin on her neck.
“Mum has just discovered Instagram. She can at least pretend that she has the perfect Christmas tree.”
“I like your mum,” Blake said, dropping a soft kiss on her neck.
Zoë didn’t know what to say. No one was looking at them and that kiss was completely spontaneous and oh-so casual. Almost like he’d done it because he wanted to, not because he was trying to keep up appearances.
Julia clapped her hands sharply and Zoë pushed herself away from Blake.
“Have at it,” Julia said, and the assembled cousins whooped.
“Come on,” Zoë said, taking Blake’s hand. “You can help me.”
“You want me to reach the high bits?” he asked as they approached the tree.
Zoë shook her head. “Nope, you just hand them to me.” She grabbed a box. “These are mine.” She handed it to him and he pulled out one with a picture of her surrounded by popsicle sticks covered in glitter and red paint—well, it used to be covered in glitter, there was barely any left on it now.
“Is this you?” Blake asked, his grin a mile wide and his dimple sparkling at her.
“Grade one,” she said. “Wasn’t I a cute kid?”
“Adorable,” he said before pulling her toward him and kissing her.
She allowed herself a minute to enjoy the sensation of his lips on hers and then pulled away. “Come on, we have to hurry or all the good spots will be gone.”
11
Zoë flipped her pillow over and lay her face down on the cool pillowcase. The heat was ridiculous. The hottest December on record, according to the weatherman, and the air-conditioning in the cabin was struggling.
She needed sleep, but it was too hot and she was too uncomfortable. She kicked the sheet off in frustration and sat up. She needed to take the edge of the heat. If it wasn’t for the fact they were on tank water, she’d jump in the shower and drown herself under the cold spray. As it was, with all the extra bodies on the farm, their showers had been restricted to four minutes.
But the shower wasn’t the only water on Windaroa.
Zoë swung her legs over the side of the bed and stripped out of her shorty pyjamas, She pulled on her bikini and a tank-dress and tiptoed out to the living area with her towel.
“Can’t sleep?” Blake asked from his position on the couch.
She looked at him and realised for the first time how ridiculous it was that she’d made him sleep on the tiny lounge. He must be so uncomfortable and yet he hadn’t complained once.
“Too hot,” she said.
He sat up and her eyes traipsed across the sheer expanse of naked skin. She sucked in a breath as the light from the full moon slanted through the window and lit his body like a spotlight.
“So where are you off to?” he asked, nodding at the towel she cradled in her arms.
“I’m going for a swim.”
“There’s a pool here?”
She shook her head. “A spring.”
“Do you want some company?”
She only hesitated a second and then shrugged. “Sure.”
He stood from the couch and pulled on a pair of cotton shorts over his boxer briefs and she looked away hoping he hadn’t caught her staring.
They slipped thongs on their feet and Zoë led him down a track toward the spring. Now that she had them out in the middle of the night she hoped there was enough water in the spring and that it wasn’t lukewarm. During the middle of the day it could heat up to an unpleasant bathwater tempera
ture and what she really craved was a refreshing cool dip to leach the oppressive heat from her body that wasn’t caused just from the scorching summer weather.
The full moon gave them enough light to see by and it didn’t take long for the spring to come into view. She could smell the welcoming wet coolness and stopped to drop her towel and shuck her thongs and dress. She picked her way down to the water’s edge and stepped into the water.
She groaned with delight as the cold water swelled around her ankles.
“Good?” Blake asked in her ear. She hadn’t heard him get so close and she shivered with his nearness.
“Really good,” she said before stepping further into the water and lowering herself below the surface.
Blake followed her in and disappeared under the water, surfacing close to her, his hair wet and slicked back off his face. He hadn’t shaved since they’d arrived at the farm and his stubble had filled in giving his clean-cut looks a rugged edge.
He grabbed her around the waist and dunked her under the water. She came up spluttering and splashed him. His laugh echoed around the clearing as he swam away from her. She chased after him, pulling herself onto his back and pushing him under the water in retaliation.
He slipped away from her and she turned around trying to find him, but before she could, he had her by the foot and was dragging her under with him. She grappled with him until they both finally surfaced, laughing. He pulled her close, their wet bodies sliding against one another and she saw his eyes drop to her mouth. She licked her lips and he groaned, dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip.
Too tired from her restless nights and too worked up by his nearness to resist, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed herself against him. He took her mouth in a scorching kiss, his hands going to her backside and tugging her closer so she could feel every hard inch of him.
Her hands threaded through his wet hair and she tilted his head so she could kiss him again. He rocked against her, his hard length rubbing against her aching core and pulling a deep moan from her at the impossibly perfect feel of him.
He kissed down her throat and she tipped her head back, her hair swirling in the water. He used his nose to nudge the triangle of her bikini aside and sucked her hard nipple into his mouth. She arched her back, offering herself up to him and she felt his erection twitch between her thighs.
“Fuck, Zoë,” he groaned against her wet skin. “You feel so good.”
She tightened her legs around him and sunk her fingers into his scalp. “So do you,” she breathed as she rode him through their swimmers.
Laughter made them both freeze. She recognised the voices of her cousins as they walked toward the spring.
“Busted,” she whispered, pushing away from Blake and straightening her bikini top.
Jenny and Maddie stopped when they saw her and Blake already in the water.
“I hope we’re not interrupting,” Maddie said, and Jenny laughed.
“Not interrupting,” she said. “We were just about to leave, right babe?”
Blake raised his eyebrows at her and then looked down toward the monster in his pants below the water. “I don’t mind staying a little longer, honey,” he said.
She laughed and he splashed water at her. “Take your time, sweetie,” she said, swimming toward the edge. “I’ll meet you back at the cabin.”
“Zoë,” he growled, but she was already climbing out of the water.
“Wait up, Slim,” he said, and she heard him swim toward her. She dried off quickly and slipped her shirt back on. That was a close call and now she was more worked up than she had been before she came to the spring. So much for cooling off.
Blake followed Zoë back down the track to the cabin and cursed the interruption of her cousins. He finally had his hands—and mouth—on her and he wasn’t ready for it to stop. The way she was rubbing herself against him, he didn’t think she’d been ready for it to be over either.
Zoë stepped into the cabin ahead of him and the cold air-conditioning hit his wet skin, causing him to break out in goosebumps. He hadn’t bothered pulling his shorts back on over his wet boxers and he stood in the dining slash kitchen area of the cabin with no idea what came next.
“Zoë,” he said, and she swung around to face him. He watched her eyes skate over his near-nakedness, and then let his own eyes coast down over her. She’d pulled on her dress over her wet bikini and it clung to her body, accentuating her curves and revealing the peaked nipples that he’d had in his mouth only moments ago.
He reached for her, but she skipped out of his reach.
“I need to change,” she said, disappearing behind the closed door of the bedroom.
Blake tipped his head to the ceiling and closed his eyes. He breathed slowly trying to think of anything but Zoë stripping off her bikini behind the door just a few steps away from him.
The door opened and she peered out of him. “Do you need to change?” she asked.
She was wearing her shorty pyjamas with a soft tank top, her wet hair pulled up on top of her head and her dark eyes wide and her lips soft and pink.
“Yeah, thanks,” he said, his voice rough.
She stepped out of the room and moved out of his way. He closed the door behind him and breathed in the scent of her that filled the room. What were they doing? Their attraction to one another was obvious and yet he knew he needed to keep it platonic. She didn’t know everything about him. He’d lied to her about where he worked and his name for god’s sake. He’d done it for the right reasons, but still, it wasn’t a good idea to get tangled up in something with her when he hadn’t been completely honest.
He knew it, but it didn’t make the wanting go away.
He wanted her. Desperately.
He’d spent the previous year celibate, not for any specific reason except he had been determined to get his head right before getting tangled up with someone else. That had to be the reason he was feeling so edgy. He smirked. Horny. Not that Zoë wasn’t gorgeous, because she was. The memory of her taste on his tongue and how she felt wrapped around him had him groaning with need.
But he was an adult, not a teenager with raging hormones. He was attracted to her on a physical level and even more, he liked her. He liked being around her, talking to her, getting to know her. It was a pity he couldn’t let her get to know him too.
He shook off the lust and changed out of his wet boxers into dry ones and grabbed a t-shirt as well, tugging it over his head before stepping back out into the living area.
Zoë was looking at the couch, biting her lip.
“You should get some sleep,” he said.
“You can’t sleep there,” she replied, looking up at him. “It must be hell on your back.”
He smiled crookedly at her. “And where do you suggest I sleep?”
She looked toward the bedroom and he swallowed a groan. He reached out and tucked a stray length of hair behind her ear. “Are you offering to sleep on the couch then?” he asked.
She looked at him and then the couch and then turned her eyes to the bedroom. “You don’t think we could…” she shrugged, “share the bed?”
He closed his eyes and took a breath before answering. “No,” he said, opening his eyes to watch her closely. “If I climb into that bed with you, I don’t think I could stay on my side.”
“Maybe—”
“Zoë,” he said, stepping closer and tipping her face up to his. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
She searched his eyes and then dropped hers to a spot on his t-shirt, but she didn’t pull away from him. “Would it be such a bad one?” she asked, tipping her face to the side and looking up at him from the corner of her eye. “I mean, there’s obviously something here.” She pressed her body against his and her hands threaded through his hair pulling him down to a kiss.
He let himself get lost in the sensation of her as she plundered his mouth. She felt so good and he felt himself thicken and lengthen, knowing that she could
n’t help but feel it too. His hands coasted down over her body slowly. He took his time cataloguing every curve. He slid his fingers under the hem of her tank, skating the tips of his fingers across the soft skin at the base of her spine before cupping her bottom and dragging her closer.
“Blake Spencer,” she whispered against his mouth. “Is that a rocket in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
The sound of his fake name on her lips was more effective than a cold shower. He kissed her once more and then stepped away from her. Reluctantly. He held her at arm’s length when she tried to close the distance between them.
“Zoë,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “We can’t. This isn’t real.”
“You sure about that Blake?” she asked, her eyes looking down at the bulge in his boxers.
He groaned and turned away from her. “Go to bed, Zoë,” he said. “Please.”
He closed his eyes and waited to hear the door to the bedroom close before he let out a long, slow breath. He lowered himself to the couch and dropped his head into his hands. He was an idiot. Zoë didn’t know anything about his family. She didn’t know who he was. She wasn’t after him for his money or for what his family name could do for her career. And yet…he’d sent her away. He was a big fucking idiot and so fucking confused. He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? Right now, in this very moment, he no longer knew what the right thing was.
12
Zoë stomped out of the bedroom the next morning, not caring if she woke Blake. She’d hardly gotten any sleep after he’d rejected her and she was in a bad enough mood to have a good old fashioned yelling match with him…if only she could find him.
The couch was empty.
“Of course it fucking is,” she muttered as she flicked the kettle on to boil.
She couldn’t face the family, or Blake, until she had some coffee in her, even if it was only instant coffee.
The truth was, she was embarrassed on top of being completely unsatisfied. The ache in her core that he had ignited had kept her awake and on edge all night. The embarrassment of throwing herself at him and being summarily rejected hadn’t dulled the need for him and only worsened her insomnia.