Was this a thing he had? She didn’t want her hands caught above her head, she wanted them on him. She really, really wanted them on him. The second he released her, she moved them down to curl around his shoulders, then started heading south again. Once again, he caught her hands and moved them up. This time he wasn’t letting go.
‘Jo—’ she began, but her protest was drowned as his mouth renewed its assault and coherent thought left her head. Then she forgot about her hands altogether, because his free one was trailing down her body, stroking over her hip and her thigh. He nudged her legs apart a little with one of his and his hand came to settle on her inner thigh. Shivers ran through her. He speared fingers through her curls, and slid a finger inside. Gasping, she stiffened a little at the unexpected feel of it. Josh immediately stilled above her. ‘Okay?’ he asked quietly.
When she didn’t answer, he made as if to withdraw, but she squeezed her thighs together, doing some trapping of her own, because the strangeness had quickly turned to something good. ‘Better than okay.’
He was kissing her and stroking her, and his thumb was rubbing. And it all felt so good; delicious shimmery heat radiating out through her body. She was going to explode if he kept this up. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling more out of control by the second. It was almost too much. When he nuzzled at her neck, she drew in a sharp breath and pleaded on an uncertain, unsteady breath. ‘Josh?’
‘Right here,’ he murmured.
She opened her eyes and he was there. So solid, so warm, and so there. Grey-eyed and brown-skinned above her, close and warm. She squeezed the hand that held hers, leaned up and kissed his jaw. ‘Kiss me.’
He did, and she let go, let go of the need to know where she was and what she was doing, just gave herself up to the incredible sensation of him sliding in and out, his thumb brushing across her apex of nerves. She clenched at the hand holding hers, held it tight, grateful now for this solid thing to hold on to. And she couldn’t help writhing beneath him, arching up into him—she was too hot and aching to do anything else. He kissed her sporadically, but mostly he was watching her, heavy-lidded eyes fixed on hers, breath matching her fast, shallow pants as she moved against him. And it’s not like she hadn’t done this, or something similar herself, but this felt so different. This felt so …
Rising—almost levitating off the bed—she burst, fractured, into stars. Glittery silver-grey stars.
Floating back down to earth, blood cooling, breath slowing, she was unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything. Wow. The only thing that would have made that better was if Josh had been there with her.
He leaned down, kissed her forehead, kissed her neck, and even through his jeans, she could feel how hot and hard he was. She removed her hands from his, brought them down over his ribs, heading lower, thinking that now was her time. Or his time.
But he dragged himself off her. Left the bed altogether. She felt the loss of his presence like a thoroughly unwelcome splash of cold water. What was he doing?
He was picking up his T-shirt!
He couldn’t seriously be leaving. She wasn’t ready for him to be gone, not near ready.
‘Don’t go.’ It was almost a croak, a panicked croak.
But he pulled his top back over his head with calm efficient movements. Was he not affected by what had just happened at all? Maybe she wouldn’t have thought so, but she could see the flush across his cheeks, the sheen of perspiration which proved otherwise. And she’d felt his hardness.
‘I have some things I need to do.’
Liar. It was Friday evening. What could possibly be so urgent that he had to leave right now? He stood looking down at her as she lay sprawled on the bed. After what had just happened, she saw no reason to cover her nakedness.
‘What about you?’ she asked, looking pointedly at the sizeable bulge in his jeans. Whatever was wrong it wasn’t a lack of desire.
His mouth twisted in a reluctant, wry smile. ‘Nothing I’m not used to when it comes to you.’
Well, it didn’t have to be that way! She’d just asked him not to go. ‘Stay a bit longer?’ she tried again. ‘Please.’ She sat up. ‘We don’t have to … We can do whatever you want. I’ll make you dinner. We’ll leave every single light in the house on, for full non-romantic impact.’
‘Can’t do it, Lil.’
He looked sad, but what did he have to be sad about? And he definitely didn’t have to go. But he wasn’t staying, not for anyone or anything. He paused at the door, turned back to her, took more one lingering look at her where she sat, arms behind her, one knee drawn up. ‘Sweet dreams,’ he said when his eyes met hers again, then walked out of the room.
She heard his quiet footsteps treading down the stairs, the pause as he pulled on his boots, and then the door shut behind him.
Gone. Just like that.
She slumped back on the mattress.
She just didn’t get it.
It was so clear to her. She knew what she wanted—him. His strong, steady heart. His calm, methodical mind. His big, gorgeous body. The want was so fierce and true, it left no room for doubt.
But she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be his friend with benefits, which seemed to be where they were heading. Except without the friends part. And without the benefits part—for Josh at least, anyway.
What did he want from her? He desired her, to use an old-fashioned word, if the past few days were any indication. More than that? She wasn’t sure.
Tonight could have been so different. They could have spent the evening preparing and sharing a meal together, talking, getting to know each other again, reconnecting. She’d invited him up to her bedroom. She’d kind of assumed he’d be spending the whole night.
No matter where she hoped this was headed, Josh obviously had other ideas. Maybe it was naïve to think they could ever have anything approaching the closeness that used to exist so naturally between them, but she wanted a damn sight more than this.
Would she take it though, if this was all she could get?
She flopped back on the mattress, thinking wryly that she’d never be able to see her apricot hanging sheets again without picturing Josh above her.
***
He was supposed to be heading home, but Josh drove straight past the turn-off. Not that he had any intention of going into town tonight. He wouldn’t exactly make great company.
His whole world was spiralling out of control.
Take Lily and her little wedding venue bombshell.
The idea of her hosting the charity ball at Mirabook was bad enough. It wasn’t something he was happy about, but he could deal, because it was contained. A one-off event taking place within the allocated time frame of one month.
But turning Mirabook into a wedding venue?
It wasn’t going to happen.
Not that she knew that.
He’d been about to tell her about the debt tonight, but she’d thrown him a curve ball with her ‘plans for Mirabook’. And he’d decided to hold back, while he thought the implications through. If she could find a way to finance it, if she could find an investor who’d back her and pay off the debt … It shouldn’t be possible, but even though she said everyone in Sydney hated her, her name still carried weight, and she still had connections. And more than that, Lily had a dangerous talent for willing dreams into being. Despite his rational side asserting that he held the balance of power, he didn’t totally trust that he’d be able to stop her if she gathered enough momentum.
So he’d done his best to smash the idea into a million pieces. By the time she got around to putting it back together again, time would be up. Especially given how busy she was going to be working on the ball between now and D-day, if those preliminary pictures she’d showed him were any indication.
It had proved one thing, though. He’d been right, what he’d been thinking this afternoon. Lily thought she was staying.
She couldn’t. Sorry, but that just wasn’t going to work. She could hav
e her own venue, sure, but not at Mirabook. In fact, it couldn’t be anywhere in the vicinity of Yarrow. Plenty of other towns the same distance from Sydney. She could take the money left over from when she sold and set up shop in one of those.
She could not stay. In his head she was here for a month. A month he could cope with. Longer, he wasn’t so sure about. Longer, and he might just go off the deep-end.
The wedding venue wasn’t the only thing worrying him. He couldn’t claim his plan to rid her from his system was working.
In fact, so far, the cure was worse than the disease—it turned out the real life Lily was even more effective at haunting him than the ghost in his head. How’d she get to be like that in bed? She didn’t hide a damn thing. And it did funny things to a guy when a woman was that open.
The sad truth was, even if his plan wasn’t working, there was no viable alternative. Quitting, leaving things as they were right now, was asking for a lifetime of pain. He’d just have to persevere and hope for the best.
His mouth twisted in something like self-disgust. Totally apart from whether it was working or not … He didn’t feel right about it. He’d hated Lily for a long time, so he hadn’t expected to feel conflicted, but he did. He didn’t regret not telling her about the debt—he had to protect his own interests—but making out with her at the same time was harder than he thought.
He was on the stretch of road approaching Harry’s Corner. The site of the near-accident where Lily had reappeared in his life, shortly after she’d almost ended it.
Maybe this was where he’d been heading all along, because he was hit with a sudden urge to check something. Slowing, he pulled up next to the tree. His tree. Grabbing a torch from the glove box, he walked over, shone the light on what he judged to be about the right spot.
There it was. Black paint. Still there.
Something had happened that day. Something important. It was there, in him, but he couldn’t grasp it.
He laid a hand on the trunk, then rested his forehead there too. He closed his eyes and did his best to relive that moment. The disbelief that the horror situation was unfolding; the relief as the cars whizzed past each other; the dread as it sunk in that he was the unstoppable object on a collision course with an immovable object. He’d seen his dad. His mum. And Lily.
Had some part of him known it was Lily in that red Lexus? Is that why he’d pictured her in his head like that?
He gave up, opened his eyes.
He was lucky, he supposed. That was his closest call to date. Maybe that was why he couldn’t shake the experience. There must have been mere inches between him and death. The slightest of margins. If he’d been going the slightest bit faster, if he’d seen her car a fraction of a second later … It could have easily been a different story.
He’d be haunting her, rather than the other way around.
Gallows humour. A first time for everything.
Chapter 9
‘I invited someone to join us for lunch today,’ his mother said as they stood side-by-side in her kitchen, podding a large pile of peas.
Josh raised his eyebrows. The Farrells always had Sunday roast together. The three of them, when his father was still alive. Now, just his mum and him. Every Sunday, after she’d visited dad at the cemetery.
Josh didn’t go with her. He never had. At first, it’d been because he’d still been at university. And since he’d returned to Yarrow … He didn’t go. His mum went but he didn’t. She understood.
Sundays had always been family day. His mum had never invited anyone else to lunch, and neither had he.
‘Who?’
‘Katie,’ she replied, tone light but eyes fixed on the task in front of her.
Maybe he should have anticipated that one. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where his mum was going with this. As far as he knew, she liked Katie well enough, but she’d never pushed her forward as a prospective daughter-in-law. Until Lily turned up.
‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’
‘I thought you liked Katie.’ She stepped away, leaving the peas for him to finish, and brought the lamb out of the oven to baste.
‘Things are a little awkward between us at the moment.’ He had no idea if his mother knew about the night they’d spent together a few weeks ago, and he had no intention of bringing it up. There were some things sons didn’t need to discuss with their mothers.
‘There are some things I don’t need to know, Joshua.’
He smiled, grim. Seems they were in agreement there.
‘She was very pleased to be invited. Perhaps you could view this as a chance to fix things between the two of you.’
‘It’s not that easy. She has feelings I don’t reciprocate. There’s not much I can do to fix that.’
His mother returned the roast to the oven, lips pursed in disapproval.
‘Something you want to say?’ He loved his mother dearly, but her passive aggressive approach to conflict could wear thin.
‘Katie is a lovely girl. She’d perfect for you. She’d make a lovely …’ She paused, did the lip pursing thing again. ‘You need to get over yourself, Joshua Farrell.’
She sounded angry with him, which was absurd, because it wasn’t like he could help not fancying Katie. The way she was talking, it was as if she thought he had a choice, as if the problem was that he didn’t think Katie was good enough for him or something. That wasn’t it at all. Finished with his task, he added water to the saucepan now full of peas, and put it on the stove-top, ready to heat. ‘Katie’s great. Just not for me.’
‘I don’t understand why you’d think that.’
‘Mum.’ Surely she understood that there was no real answer to a question like that.
‘Who is for you then? Don’t you think it’s about time you found someone?’ Her voice was a little strained, and a touch louder than necessary, which meant, yes, she really was angry with him. But at least she was looking at him properly for the first time since they’d started this conversation. ‘Don’t answer that,’ she followed up quickly, hand raised to stop the name that was not about to tumble from his lips. ‘I already know what, or rather, who, the problem is.’
Lily. Obviously.
But she was wrong if she thought Lily was the reason he and Katie weren’t halfway down the aisle already. Even before Lily came back, he’d known Katie wasn’t right for him.
His mother hadn’t brought anything like this up before, and he wondered what it was she was really worried about—the fact that he was still single, or the idea that Lily might step into the girlfriend role. If it was the latter, he could have told her that she had nothing to worry about.
Not that he was about to start discussing Lily with his mother.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief as a knock at the door broke the tense silence.
‘You’d better go let our guest in,’ his mother said after a moment.
He answered the door, and there was Katie, looking hopeful—eyes too bright, expression too eager. Shit. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.
He let her in and they sat down to lunch soon after, and it was fine. Nothing near as awkward as he feared it might have been. He couldn’t have said what they talked about. Progress with ideas for the new hall—though no one mentioned the upcoming ball—the kids Katie taught at school and their families; her own family who lived in a town a little over an hour away. Anything and everything, and it was fine. Light, easy conversation.
His mum had stuck the idea in his head, and he couldn’t help but consider it over lunch. He had to admit, she was right. On paper Katie was perfect for him. If he’d been able to fall for her, or someone like her, his life would be easy. Straightforward. They had similar backgrounds and interests and values, and she’d fit right in. She taught the kids whose parents he worked with—he could talk to her about her work and she could talk to him about his. From the looks his mother kept shooting him from across the table, she was thinking the same thing.
Lunch w
as going so well, and it was so nice the three of them sitting together, and why didn’t he just marry Katie?
But being perfect in theory could only take a person so far. As he sat and chatted and realised how perfect Katie would be, he felt even more strongly that it was all wrong. His loss, but she just wasn’t right for him.
He knew his mum was angling for them to spend some time alone, so when she disappeared into the kitchen after lunch to make coffee for Katie and tea for the two of them, leaving him with Katie in the sitting room, he accepted it as inevitable. They were going to have to talk. He’d been avoiding this conversation, convinced that it would only lead to further pain, but maybe it was for the best. Somehow, despite his best attempts, the message hadn’t got through, and it was cruel to keep her hanging.
Katie sat at the far end of the sofa from him, shifted closer, and then settled halfway along. She looked nervous and hopeful. ‘So, this has been nice,’ she said eventually, hands together awkwardly in her lap.
‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘it has.’
‘I wasn’t sure, when Louise invited me; I wasn’t sure if you knew about this lunch.’ Her hands twisted around each other. ‘But then I thought maybe it was your idea.’
Only one way to deal with this. Brutal honesty. ‘It wasn’t my idea,’ he admitted.
Hazel eyes bright with hurt flitted away from his. ‘It’s been nice, anyway.’
‘I’ve always enjoyed your company, Katie.’ The words were true, but he didn’t like the way they sounded—so distant and formal. He reminded himself that there needed to be no mistaking how not keen he was.
‘Just not enough,’ she replied eventually, and he must have done his job all right, because bitterness had replaced the earlier hope.
What could he say to that? It was exactly right, he supposed.
‘It was good, wasn’t it? Between us?’
Shit. He dropped his elbows onto his knees and dropped his head into his hands. There was just no way to answer that question.
He’d had an easy-come, easy-go attitude to sex for ten years, and it had never been a problem for him. He’d figured so long as it was consensual and he was honest about what it meant right from the start, where was the harm? He wasn’t so sure any more. Before Katie, he hadn’t been with anyone in months. Which might have had something to do with why he’d ended up taking her home that night.
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