All I Need Is You aka Wedding Survivor

by Julia London

  “Eli…thank you,” she said. “I know it sounds silly, but this means so much to me.”

  He smiled and wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing them lightly. “I know,” he said. “Don’t let it get cold,” he added and let go of her hand.

  He shut the door behind him and returned to the main room of the cabin, a silly grin on his face. As he stood before the fire, his hands on his hips, his grin settled in. It made him feel good to see her smile like that.

  Damn good.

  Too damn good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Eli definitely hid a softer side, and the more Marnie was around him, the more glimpses of it she was seeing. As she luxuriated in her three-inch bath, she mulled over how he came off as a tough, no-nonsense kind of guy, the lonesome cowboy in an urban jungle, but in reality, he was very tuned in to the people around him. And he was a very resourceful man. Was there anything he could not do?

  But what she liked most of all was that he was, in his own uniquely gruff way, very caring of her.

  How frustrating it was that she’d see these pieces of him and feel that she was getting closer to him, and then the walls would come up and shut her off. She kept thinking back to last night, when he had gotten so angry with her. She had forgiven him that outburst today, because she understood that he’d been wounded. Lost loves could really mess with a person’s head.

  What bothered her was that he hadn’t moved past it.

  Whoever the bitch was that had jilted him so heartlessly had done a damn good job of it—the man was absolutely terrified of love.

  That really sucked, because she had fallen in love with him. Soaking in a bath he’d made for her after winning her this cabin, which was probably the nicest, sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her, she would admit that she had, wholeheartedly, fallen in love with the lonesome cowboy. Which was why she really couldn’t abide his erecting walls when she got close.

  Eli needed help letting go of the past. Marnie was all for helping—she just wasn’t sure how. That sort of damage was well out of her realm of experience. But instinctively, she knew she could not be the one to hold back.

  So when Eli knocked on the door and said he had more water, Marnie smiled and called for him to come in. He opened the door and poked his head inside and seemed slightly taken aback that Marnie had made no attempt to cover herself. He stood in the doorway, holding a bucket of steaming water, his blue eyes greedily taking in every inch of her.

  She sat up, gripping the sides of the old claw-foot tub. “Would you pour it on my hair? I don’t think I got all the soap out.”

  A corner of his mouth tipped up. Being the man of few words that he was, he walked in and took a seat on the edge of the tub. Marnie couldn’t see him, but she could feel his hand on her hair, his fingers sliding through the wet tresses, then his hand on her shoulder, moving her wet hair to her back, his fingers trailing lightly down her neck.

  “Ready?” he drawled behind her.

  Marnie nodded. The stream of hot water caught her off guard; she arched her back, dipped her head back and closed her eyes as he poured water through her hair, using his hand to help the rinsing along, lifting her hair and guiding the water over it. When he had finished, he put the bucket down, slowly lowered her hair, then laid his hands on her shoulders, massaging them, caressing her arms, her chest, her neck. His touch was tender and lingering, and Marnie knew that even though he fought the desire to love her, he couldn’t quite distance himself, either.

  She closed her eyes, leaned her head against his hand, and murmured, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He ran his hand over the top of her head, stood up, and walked out without looking back. Marnie leaned back against the smooth curve of the tub, her fingers curling around the ends of her hair, her imagination running wild with an image of her in the back room of some saloon, her handsome cowboy bathing her, his hands running up and down her body…

  She emerged from the bath a few minutes later wrapped in a thick terry robe, her hair wrapped in an even thicker towel. The cabin was dark, save for the light of a roaring fire, and Eli was seated in one of the two leather chairs facing the hearth. On a small granite table between the two chairs were a bottle of champagne, a heel of bread, and about two ounces of Camembert cheese.

  Marnie grinned. “You are a miracle worker. Where did you get champagne?”

  He smiled and poured some into a fine crystal flute. “Our illustrious couple was holding out. It was under the bed with some other things they apparently meant to trot out for the ceremony, including these flutes.”

  Marine picked one up and looked at the tiny stamp on the bottom. “Waterford,” she said. “Someone’s bridal gift.” She handed the flute to Eli, slid into the chair next to him, tucked her feet under her, and took the full glass he offered. “This is such a treat,” she said, and lifted her glass in a mock toast. “You are obviously a man of mystery and surprises.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he drawled. “But I figured you’d endured enough in the last few days. You probably didn’t bargain for this when you signed on with us.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” she said with a wink. “Yet, in a strange and kooky way, it’s been kind of fun.”

  Eli snorted, but Marnie laughed. “A bath and clean hair has done wonders for my outlook,” she said, and put aside the flute of champagne to spread some cheese on the bread. “I’ve been making a list of all the things I have learned on this trip,” she said, handing a piece to Eli.

  “Like?”

  “Like…never let a bride talk you into a plastic arch. Don’t leave home without extra underwear and protein bars. Don’t trust anyone who is either hungry or dirty.”

  “Stake your tent,” Eli added.

  “Stake your tent.” Marnie laughed and clinked her glass to his, sipped her champagne, and looked into the fire. “I also learned that some people are not what they seem.”

  “Ah,” Eli said, lifting his glass. “So you’ve got the Supreme Drama Queen’s number.”

  “Oh yeah,” Marnie said, nodding adamantly. “But I was talking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Mm-hmm. You’re not at all what you seem.”

  “How so?” he asked, looking at her fully now.

  “Well,” she said with a smile, “you are, in fact, a lot nicer than you appear.”

  “Damn, that hurts,” he said with a grin as his gaze dipped to the V of her robe.

  “No, it doesn’t,” she said, putting her champagne aside and moving her feet from beneath her. “I think you know that you come across as a tough guy, but you’re really a big fluffy marshmallow inside.”

  “Ah, now, that’s not right,” Eli said, and began to shake his head, but Marnie was already moving to her knees on the rug at their feet, slipping between his legs and bracing herself with her hands on his thighs.

  Eli cocked a curious brow as he put his champagne aside. His eyes were dark, roaming her face, her hair, her décolletage, and murmured, “What are you doing now, coppertop?” as he fingered a damp strand of her hair.

  “I don’t really know,” she said, and leaned forward, so that her face was only inches from his. “I just wanted to say that…what happened to you? She’s definitely the big loser,” she said, and tilted her head up, kissed his cheek. “You’re a good guy, Eli, a really good guy with a heart of gold and you deserve to be happy. But I think you hold yourself apart because you are so fearful of being hurt again—”

  He squirmed beneath her hands and tried to speak.

  “No—”

  Marnie instantly pressed two fingers to his lips. “You can’t fool me,” she said quietly. “You are afraid, it’s obvious. But you don’t have to be afraid with me because I would never hurt you, Eli. I’m just so sorry all of that happened to you,” she said, and lightly kissed his lips. “You really didn’t deserve that.”

  He caught her face between his hands and smiled salaciously. “So what do
I deserve?”

  “Better,” she whispered, and kissed him again, then slid her mouth to his chin and his neck.

  Eli put his hands on her shoulders and let them slide down her arms. Marnie slipped her hand beneath his thermal shirt, pushing it up as she ran her hands over the hard wall of his abdomen to the mounds of his pecs. Eli sighed as her fingers flitted over his taut nipples before pushing his shirt up and forcing him to lift his arms. She tossed the shirt near the fire, then moved back a little to admire his body. He was perfectly formed, she thought, the sort of masculine physique that every woman dreamed of.

  How lucky for her that this was not a dream. She put her mouth on his nipple, her teeth lightly around it, and Eli moaned deep in his chest. His hands found their way inside the V of her robe, searching for her breasts, his fingers tweaking her nipples.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked roughly as she moved to the second nipple and bit it lightly. “You just bathed and I haven’t been so lucky.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I love the way you smell.” And it was true that the heady, masculine scent of him was seeping down into her groin, between her legs.

  As he filled his hands with her breasts, she let her hands slide down his torso to the top of his pants. She unfastened them and pulled them open—and discovered that the man was not wearing any underwear. His erection was straining against the fabric of his pants, hard and thick. Marnie slipped her hand around him and slowly slid up, then down. With a groan, Eli massaged her breasts in response.

  Marnie freed him from his pants. He closed his eyes; his head lolled back against the chair as she moved her hand down to the dark patch of hair and up again.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, lifting his head and putting his palm to her cheek. “You’re not trying to bribe the last PB&J out of me, are you?”

  “No,” she said, and leaned down to touch the tip of her tongue to the swollen head. Eli flinched. “I’m after something way better than that.”

  “You want my tent? You can have it,” he said a little breathlessly. “Name it, girl—whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  She smiled, bent her head again, and her hair surrounding her, she took him into her mouth. Eli’s entire body seized and he moved, lifting up, pushing his pants down to give her better access. Marnie was not the most experienced woman in LA, not by a long shot, but she knew instinctively what to do, and slid her mouth down the shaft of him while she cupped the taut sacs beneath, squeezing lightly, sucking tightly. She moved on him, her lips sliding, sucking and nipping, taking him as deep as she could and rising up again until he was groaning with pleasure. He caught her hair in his fist, moved it aside so he could watch her. When she let go of his cock and took a testicle in her mouth, he made a guttural sound of pleasure and grabbed her arms, holding her tightly.

  “If you keep this up, there will be nothing left for you,” he said, and forced her head up. He opened the palm of her hand, placed a condom in it.

  Marnie smiled and artfully dressed him in it, using her fingers and her mouth to put it in place. Once it was secure, Eli grabbed her beneath her arms and easily pulled her up, onto his lap, and said in a lonesome cowboy drawl, “Ride me, baby.”

  Marnie rode him, all right, sliding down onto his shaft while his hands cupped her breasts. He was moving beneath her, meeting her thrusts with a powerful updraft of his own. And then, without warning, he slipped an arm around her waist and rose up, holding her, then easily lowering both of them onto the rug.

  Her robe fell open; Eli gathered her arms in one hand, holding them high above her head, and gazed at the full length of her. She was beautiful, he thought, all soft flesh and curves. Gorgeous.

  She smiled up at him as his gaze greedily roamed the naked length of her, lingering at the reddish spring of curls between her legs. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You’re not trying to get the last PB&J out of me, are you, cowboy?”

  Eli looked in her eyes, the big pancake eyes that he had come to long for, and smiled warmly. “It ain’t your PB&J I’m after, coppertop,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers, slipped his tongue between her lips, and kissed her deeply. With his free hand he lazily felt her body, skimming every curve and the soft patch of hair, taking in her scent, the silken feel of her skin. He shifted his mouth to her neck, nuzzling her, and down a little farther, to her breasts, the round, succulent mounds of flesh with the small, dark nipples. He took the peak in his mouth, tweaking it with his teeth as she had tweaked him, sucking lightly, feeling her body rise up to meet his, hearing her little gasps of pleasure that had the effect of making his cock, impossibly, even harder.

  His hand slipped to the curls between her legs, between the folds. She was slick and wet, and the earthy scent of her desire made him crazy. A switch deep inside him was suddenly kicked on, and he was impatient to be inside her again. He slipped one finger in deep, felt her clinch around him, then slipped another inside her while he attended to her clit with his thumb, and began to move his fingers in primal fashion.

  Marnie’s eyes were closed, her brow creased with her concentration on his attentions. The skin of her breasts was pink from the lingering heat from his mouth. She looked, he thought wildly, as beautiful as any woman had ever seemed to him, and he suddenly, desperately, needed to be inside her, to thrust deep inside her, to touch her. He moved on top, his hands and fingers working maniacally, bringing her closer and closer to release. But when she began to moan, he withdrew his hand and slid his cock into her.

  Marnie gasped and her eyes fluttered open; a smile of pure delight spread her full lips. She reached up, touched his face. “I’d really like it,” she said breathlessly, “if you would just…fuck me, Eli.”

  The power of those words sent him soaring. He was suddenly thrusting hard into her, his thumb still moving against her. Marnie lifted her hips to him, put her hands to his nipples and squeezed them hard, adding to his burgeoning pleasure. She was slick and hot—he moved like a madman in her, desperate to reach the core of her, desperate to be part of her.

  His jaw clenched, he stroked her, driving her to a climax they could share. Marnie groaned with pleasure; her mouth fell open, her eyes fluttered shut, and she began to cry out, her pleasured sobs of release his undoing. Her body seized around him with her last cry; he could feel a different heat squeeze him as she convulsed in one long wave, and he grabbed her hips, drove into her until he had exploded, too, coming in her aftermath, coming hot and hard and long.

  Spent, exhausted, and feeling uncharacteristically tender of heart, Eli lowered himself to Marnie, pushed her damp coppery hair from her face, and kissed each and every freckle there.

  After a moment, she opened her eyes and studied his face. With the pad of her thumb, she traced the line of his jaw, felt the stubble of his beard, then slowly rose up on her elbows and touched her forehead to his. “Eli,” she whispered, “I have to tell you that I think I really, truly love you.”

  The admission stung him—he was still breathing raggedly, still feeling extraordinarily tender, but could say nothing. It was as if his tongue had frozen, his brain unable to conjure up the words to respond in kind. He put his hand to the back of her head and drew her up to his shoulder, then lowered them down to lie on the rug. Marnie released a small sight of contentment, her breath warm and moist on his skin.

  He was feeling something very strong for this woman, he would not attempt to deny it. But was it love? Did he even know what that was anymore? Did he confuse it with lust?

  After a moment, the air grew cold around them, and Eli stirred, made sure Marnie’s robe was tightly around her, then donned his thermal shirt. He put two logs on the fire and helped her up to the bed. Before he joined her, he grabbed the champagne and the flutes. The two of them sank beneath the down comforter and quilts to sip champagne.

  They said nothing for a time, until Marnie said, “I’d like to request lobsters tomorrow.”

  He turned and looked at her. “Beg your pardon
?”

  She was tracing a tiny path on his chest. “When they come with the snowblower, could they shoot some lobsters at us? I don’t think I can eat another PB&J.”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll make them give us lobsters,” he said, and lazily laced his fingers through hers. “Marnie,” he said quietly. “I’m, ah…I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off, and he hated himself. He was, at the defining moment, unable to summon his feelings into words.

  “Not sure…we’ll get out of here?” she asked with a wink. “Of course we will. You just have to have faith.”

  She was, in her own way, sparing him an awkward moment. Whatever he was feeling went deeper as a result; he smiled gratefully and gripped her hand. “Okay,” he said softly. “But so do you.”

  Her dark eyes peered into his, searching for the thing he could not yet bring himself to give. “Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll have faith, too.”

  He nodded and slipped his fingers into her hair. His thoughts were jumbled and confused—he wanted to say something reassuring, to let her know he had feelings, that he hadn’t quite worked through them all yet. But he’d learned a long time ago on the plains of West Texas that it was best to keep quiet when a person wasn’t sure what was going on. So he gathered her hand in his, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles. Then he let go and kissed her, kissed her hard, with all that he was feeling and could not name.

  She made that little sound of contentment when he lifted his head and laid her head against his chest. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the two of them fell asleep, the sound of a dying fire fading into the distance.

  They were still wrapped in each other’s arms the next morning when the whirring sound of a helicopter descended on their little meadow.