Once A Bad Girl

by Jane O'Reilly

  Josh was in the kitchen, wearing a tight white t-shirt that said ‘Mae, Barcelona’ and battered cargo shorts, relaxing back against the scarred wooden dresser with a coffee in his hand.

  ‘What?’ he asked, all innocence and charm.

  ‘Don’t you “what” me, I know you were watching.’

  ‘I had to check if your knickers show when you’re riding.’

  Lottie tugged on the hem of her dress. ‘And do they?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He drained his cup, put it in the sink. ‘Ready to risk life and limb and ride into the village?’

  ‘Josh, I…’ This was the right moment to tell him. She knew it was. ‘I…I love the bike.’

  A huge grin split his face. He grabbed her waist, lifted her high and twirled her round until her head spun. And the moment was gone.

  It was 10 minutes’ ride to the village, though it turned into half an hour as she stopped to admire every bird, every plant, and Josh with his dark hair and big shoulders and eyes that matched the sky.

  He looked happy, relaxed in a way that he never had in London. But who wouldn’t be? The village came into view as they rounded a gentle corner, postcard perfect with rows of houses built from the same grey stone as Josh’s farmhouse. A church spire stretched up into the sky, and she could see a row of pretty shop fronts. She zoned straight in on the pâtisserie.

  ‘We’ll stop at the café first,’ Josh said, riding up alongside her. ‘I know the owner. He’s probably heard we’re here. I don’t want to get in his bad books by not saying hello. Then we’ll stock up. We’ll probably have to come every day though, I know how much you eat.’

  Lottie took a swipe at him. ‘About half as much as you do. Race you!’

  And she set off at a reckless speed, freewheeling her way down the hill. Josh caught up with her as she skidded to a halt outside the church, using a combination of the brakes and her red canvas pumps to slow herself down.

  ‘You’re insane,’ he said, but laughter creased the corners of his eyes, and he was grinning like an idiot.

  ‘You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it first.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything you could do on a bike that I didn’t think of first,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Sometimes,’ Lottie said, ‘I worry about what goes on inside your head.’

  A strange look crossed his face. ‘There is nothing going on inside my head.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Lottie dismounted and checked her dress for decency. ‘Can we have a look inside the church?’

  ‘Sure.’ Josh slowed his bike to a halt and got off it, leaning it against the wall. ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Nope,’ Lottie said. ‘Let’s just hope your head stays full of nothing while we’re in there.’

  She skipped up the rough-cut stone steps that led to the side of the church. To the left she could see a small graveyard, the headstones weather-beaten and crusted with lichen. The angle of the building cut off her view of the front, but she could imagine it. All tall and imposing, with a huge arched entrance way and wide steps perfect for a just-married photo. There’d be more stained glass, maybe a big circular window. And then there was the tower. And the carved stone knights. And the gargoyles. Her skin tingled.

  Lottie reached the top of the steps and went straight to the wooden door set deep in the stone. She reached for the handle, but Josh got there first.

  ‘Just one thing before we go in,’ he said, slipping three fingers through the twisted iron loop.

  ‘What?’

  He winked. Then, quick as lightning, fit his mouth to hers and set about kissing her in a way that was nothing short of indecent. His tongue tangled with hers as his free hand worked some sort of magic on her left breast, making it ache and tingle. She touched his just-shaven jaw, traced the strong column of his neck, dug her hands into the soft mess of his hair. He felt like he’d been made for her.

  By the time he set her free, her head was spinning. ‘We should get inside,’ she managed, ‘because I’m fairly certain having sex in church grounds is illegal.’

  ‘I just hope there’s nothing inappropriate going on inside your head, because we’re about to go into a church.’

  Lottie narrowed her eyes at him, but decided not to retort. The man was already smug enough. She lifted one hand and gestured to the door. He gave her a conciliatory peck on the lips, twisted the handle and pushed it open. It scraped a little over the stone floor, but the hinges stayed quiet, and she felt a twinge of relief. There was something wrong about making noise in a church, even an empty church on a quiet Tuesday morning.

  She walked into a tidy entranceway, with coat hooks and a super-neat noticeboard. Muffled voices caught her attention. A couple of other people were inside, but they wouldn’t mind her looking round, would they? Josh stepped in behind her, pulled the door closed and pinched her bum, and she barely held in a squeak. ‘Will you stop that!’

  ‘No,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s too much fun watching you suffer.’

  ‘We’re in a church. Show some respect.’

  ‘I think you missed your calling. You should have been a school teacher.’

  She ignored that. ‘I’m going to have a look around. Are you going to behave yourself, or are you going to wait outside?’

  He held up his hands. ‘I’ll be good. I promise. Come on.’ He took her hand and pulled her forwards into the empty church. Or the not-so-empty church.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Lottie stepped back as at least a hundred pairs of eyes swivelled in their direction. From somewhere inside the church, an organ started to sing. Everyone stood. The main doors to their left swung open and in trotted the cutest little girls she’d ever seen, dressed up like angels in baby-pink tulle. The smaller of the two tipped up the basket she was carrying and dumped a pile of rose petals on the floor. Then she burst into tears.

  Josh pulled Lottie forwards. Not back, not out the door, but forwards. Her heart jumped into her throat. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Shush,’ he said, shoving her towards the end of a half empty pew.

  Lottie narrowed her shoulders and ducked her head in a pathetic attempt to make herself invisible. She sunk her elbow into his ribs. ‘We’re gatecrashing a wedding!’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Not exactly.’ Josh waved to someone at the front of the church. ‘Anyway, the bride is about to make her entrance.’ He elbowed her back. ‘Show some respect.’

  A million protestations got stuck on the tip of her tongue as the whole congregation gave a collective sigh and she found herself joining in. The bride was tall and willowy with a sleek Louise Brooks haircut, her dress a stunning silk creation that skimmed her body. Little cap sleeves weighed down with beads caught the light and tossed it out again as she floated up the aisle with breathtaking grace.

  Josh took her hand as the bride reached the front and everyone sat down. ‘I know the groom,’ he whispered. ‘François. He runs the café I told you about. Didn’t know he was getting married, though. Last time I saw him he was signing his commitment to bachelorhood with his own blood.’

  ‘And now he’s married.’

  ‘Hmm,’ replied Josh. His gaze caught hers, and they sat there and stared at each other for a long, long moment.

  ‘You’re a closet romantic.’ Lottie blinked. ‘How did I not notice that?’

  He winked. ‘I distracted you with great sex.’

  ‘Shhhh!’ said the woman sat next to Lottie, her feathered fascinator bobbing on top of her head like a crazy tropical bird. She shook her head and tutted.

  Lottie bit her lip and forced down the giggle, but only just. She felt totally overwhelmed. She watched the two strangers make their vows to each other, felt her throat go tight and dry. Breathing was a nightmare, the silence so loud that she almost didn’t dare. Because if she breathed, she might cry. And if she cried, Josh would look at her, and he would know.

  He would know just how into him she was. How badly, all of a sudden,
she wanted to be the one in the white dress. How she wanted Josh to look at her the way the tall, blond-haired man at the front of the church was looking at his bride. She wanted to be Josh’s special one. She wanted to be his everything.

  The service came to an end, and everyone got to their feet and clapped. Lottie had to grab the back of the pew in front to hold herself steady. She couldn’t look at Josh, not at the moment. Not until she got her thoughts in order.

  Getting married was a long way away from a few weeks of crazy sex. It meant joint bank accounts, arguing over the TV remote, changing her name from Spencer to Blakemore. It meant trust and honesty and babies. Babies. Oh, god.

  She had to tell him about David. It couldn’t wait.

  ‘Josh,’ she said, tugging on his arm. ‘Josh, we need to talk.’

  He bent down, pressed his lips to her cheek. ‘Yes, we do, but later. Okay?’

  Then he was making his way to the other end of the pew and shaking hands with the groom, and another chance had gone. She watched as the two of them chatted, as Josh gave the bride a kiss on each cheek, and thought what an utterly stunning man he was.

  Would he still want her after she told him the truth? Maybe not. But it didn’t matter. She had to trust him, to trust herself and her instincts. Josh was a good man. A decent man. He’d understand. She wouldn’t let herself think otherwise.

  Josh turned round and beckoned to her, and she got to her feet and sidestepped along the pew and into his arms. ‘François and Delphine are having a party down at the café. They’ve invited us along.’

  ‘Brilliant! Though I have to warn you, I don’t speak a lot of French.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I have no intention of letting you talk to anyone.’

  ‘But…’

  He looked smug. ‘I’m going to make you sing instead.’

  A couple of hours later, Josh leaned back in his chair outside the café and watched her pour out a love song as François and his bride slowly rocked together in the middle of the street. She was singing for them, but it felt like every note was for him. He’d give them this one last song, and then he was taking her home. He’d had enough of sharing her for today. All he’d done for the past month was share her. Right now, he wanted to get her alone more than anything. He was done with holding back.

  The song wound to an end, and Josh shot to his feet, and strode over to the band. He took the microphone from Lottie and chucked it at the guitarist.

  ‘You’re practically glowing,’ he said, as he took her hand and led her away.

  ‘Isn’t that what they say to pregnant women?’

  Josh felt his heart go into a mild state of panic. Not a worried panic, but a half-hopeful, excited panic.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well. Good.’

  ‘Hmm. Josh, can I tell you something?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Okay.’ She linked her fingers with his and they strolled along the street together. No cars were passing along it today. Everyone was packed into the café, drinking champagne and eating too much. She took a deep breath. ‘You remember I told you about my brother?’

  ‘Of course,’ Josh nodded. ‘David.’

  ‘Well,’ she said clearing her throat and not looking at him. ‘When he had his accident, I was in the car too. He was giving me a lift.’

  Josh slung an arm round her shoulders. ‘I know.’

  ‘You do? How?’

  ‘Your dad told me.’

  She slumped against him. ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Since that afternoon in the pub.’ Josh gripped her tighter. ‘Remember?’

  ‘Wow.’ She rubbed her hands over her face. ‘But you didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Was I supposed to?’ Josh pressed a kiss to her temple, pulled in the soft coconut scent of her hair. ‘I figured if you wanted to tell me about it, you would. And now you have.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said faintly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. ‘Can we go home now?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to explore the village.’

  ‘I do. But I want you more.’

  ‘I think that can be arranged.’

  They rode fast, neither of them talking, though the final hill was a bit of a struggle. Halfway up, Lottie gave up the fight and opted to push. Josh still had plenty of go in his legs, but he coasted back down to join her, enjoying the anticipation, the two of them close, but not touching. Just being together, knowing that soon they’d shut the bedroom door and lose the rest of the world. The narrow road cut through the middle of a vast orchard, the trees heavy with bright-green apples.

  And then he looked at Lottie, and realised that the rest of the world was already gone.

  She stopped, resting her bike against her hip. ‘Do you trust me, Josh?’

  Josh stopped too. ‘Why?’

  ‘Answer the question. Do you trust me?’

  Josh took her hands, lifted them to his mouth and tasted her skin. Sweet. Warm. The sunshine had kissed her shoulders, her cheeks, making her eyes look even brighter. He’d seen her try so hard not to cry in the church, sensed the emotion welling up inside her. Because it was welling up inside him too. He didn’t want to ask her yet. But he was going to. ‘With my life.’

  She smiled coyly. Then she took the handlebars of her bike and wheeled it through a gap in the wall and into the trees. Josh shook his head, and followed her. For a little thing she moved fast. He found her bike propped up against a particularly big tree, and leaned his against it. ‘Lottie? Where are you?’

  ‘You have to find me!’ There was a naughty little giggle, and then an apple flew out of nowhere and hit him squarely on the shoulder.

  ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to throw your food?’ He bent down, picked up the apple and bit into it. The flesh was firm, sharp, delicious. Where was she? A few steps further in, and he found one of her shoes. Then another. Oh, she wasn’t, was she?

  Her dress swung from a low-hanging branch. Josh wrapped his hand around the hem and pulled it free. He slung it over his shoulder. ‘Charlotte Spencer, you are a bad, bad girl.’

  She stepped out in front of him, and his whole body went hot. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘But it’s okay. Because I’m with you.’

  ‘We might get caught,’ he pointed out.

  ‘You said you trusted me.’ She tucked her bottom lip in, slowly let it go, and Josh couldn’t suppress a shiver.

  Her hands moved to the straps of her bra, minty green lace with ruffled edges that pushed her breasts up high and round. He’d spent most of the morning trying not to make it too obvious that he was staring.

  Didn’t need to be discreet now. ‘Take it off.’

  She eased the straps down until they curved round her elbows, then cupped her breasts in her hands.

  Josh exhaled slowly. ‘Lottie,’ he said, everything that he felt, everything he wanted loaded into that one word. He looked her straight in the eyes, those wonderful, violet eyes that had captured him from the first moment.

  She pulled down the lace, setting one full, pale breast free. Her nipple was already dark and hard, a sure sign that she was as turned on as he was. And suddenly there it was. The right moment.

  ‘I…love you,’ he said, his voice cracking on the words. He felt as if his whole body might crack with it. It felt amazing.

  Her hand stilled inches from her bare breast. She looked startled. Shocked. Sexy. For a moment, he thought she might run. He’d known she would run. Why had he pushed it? Why had he said it at all?

  Then that hand moved over her breast, covered it, caressed it, and he watched as she gave herself up to the pleasure, to the feeling. He watched as she gave him everything, and the intimacy of it undid him. If he’d chosen to expose himself with words, she was choosing to do it with touch. He moved closer and covered her other breast with his hand, copying her rhythm, learning it, using it to make her whimper.

  He’d never seen her so open, so trus
ting, and it made him feel 10ft tall. One hand went to the fastening of his shorts, fumbled, so Josh set his free hand to work with hers and together they untangled his erection from his underwear.

  ‘I want you to…’ He couldn’t get the words out. Why couldn’t he get the damn words out? ‘I want…’ he tried again. She’d asked him if he trusted her, and he did. He wasn’t asking for anything she hadn’t done before, but it wasn’t the doing, it was the asking that made the difference this time.

  ‘Your mouth,’ he managed finally. ‘Use your mouth on me.’

  She smiled, pulled his mouth down to hers, touched her tongue to his. Then she sank slowly to her knees, opened her mouth, and took him in. Hot and soft and wet, the firm press of her tongue and gentle pull of her lips as she moved along his length was the most exquisite thing he’d ever felt. The bark of the tree was cool and rough beneath his palms as he locked his arms tight to steady himself.

  Her rhythm was slow, teasing, arousing him beyond reason. He wouldn’t last much longer. He started to pull back, but she wrapped her arms around the back of his thighs and held tight. She sucked to the end of his erection, pulled her lips together until she kissed the tip. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said, glancing up at him, desire flashing hot and clear in her eyes. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks bright.

  So there, in amongst the apple trees, where anyone could catch them, he let her make him lose it. She took her time about it, building him almost to the peak then slowing down, until finally he dug his fingers into her hair and hurtled into a brutal climax.

  Leaning back against the tree, Lottie rubbed her hands over his bare thighs and watched his erection start to soften. He was still wet from her mouth. And he was stood under an apple tree with his shorts round his knees, one forearm planted firmly against the trunk, his face buried against it, his chest heaving with the effort of pulling in air.

  And he’d told her he loved her. Moving forwards onto her knees, she eased his boxers and shorts up over his thighs, lifted them over the tight curve of his backside and gently tucked everything away. She knew she had to say something.