A Wedding She'll Never Forget

by Robyn Grady

  A bowl of candy sat between her legs. “Want a jelly bean?” she asked, chewing.

  “I’m not a sweet tooth.”

  Digging around, she picked out two more. “I’m really liking the pink ones.”

  As he lowered down beside her, she lobbed one up into the air. With a click against her teeth, it landed in her mouth. Encouraged—she must have done this before—she tried again. This one bounced off her nose. On reflex, Daniel caught the bean a heartbeat before it landed in her lap. Continuing the motion, his hand skimmed her leg before he dropped the bean back in her opened palm.

  She studied his profile as he continued to fiddle with volume and selections. He wanted her to believe that he was unaffected. But, accident or not, the back of his hand had grazed her bare thigh. The sensation had sent every one of her arousal receptors firing and beeping on high. How were his hot points holding up?

  “Thanks for letting me use your shower,” she said as the movie’s opening credits appeared. “And lending me the clothes.”

  Setting the remote aside, he flicked over a glance. “The shirt is way oversized.” Feeling safe and warm, Scarlet hugged herself. I don’t mind. “Tomorrow we’ll bring some of your gear over.”

  “I can stay?”

  “I’m hoping your memory will show up soon.”

  “I don’t know.” She settled back. “I think it might be enjoying the break. All those obligations I have at that DC Affairs place. I’m a partner in the biggest, most successful party-planning company in the city?”

  “From all accounts, you love what you do.”

  “That woman, Cara, told me about a huge cathedral wedding I’m supposed to be organizing.” She held her head. “Talk about brain overload. I’d rather relax and watch Spider-Man.”

  The lights in Daniel’s eyes blinked on. “That’s right.”

  “What’s right?”

  “You’re a Spider-Man fan.”

  Scarlet thought about it. Well…yeah. Sure. She liked Spider-Man. Didn’t everyone?

  “What else do you remember?” he asked.

  “You mean, other than the way I feel about you?”

  “We’ve been through that.”

  “Not really. Not the history.” She settled in more. “What happened between the two of us?”

  “You said ‘no’ on more than one occasion.”

  “That doesn’t gel with how I feel now.”

  “You’re not well.”

  He let her take his hand. She laid his palm on her brow, her cheek. She nodded solemnly. “Guess I am feeling a little warm.”

  He took his hand away. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “I thought you had a sense of humor.”

  “Not where this is concerned.”

  She shimmied down into her seat. “Fine. Then we’ll sit here and quietly watch the movie. Got any popcorn?”

  “Does butter have two t’s?”

  A few moments later he returned with a freshly popped bowl. When he set it between them, she scooped out a handful. Her first taste was soft and light and brilliantly salty. She filled her mouth again and tried to fix her attention on the movie’s opening scene. But the story sitting beside her in a bad-boy white tee was a thousand times more intriguing.

  “Tell me more about Daniel McNeal,” she said between chews.

  “I’m an Australian IT guy who got lucky and made a fortune putting together a social media site.”

  “I want to know about you, Daniel. Who you are inside.” She set the jelly bean bowl aside and, bringing up her legs, hugged her knees while she faced him and nibbled more popcorn. “Tell me about growing up in Australia.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “It might help spur on some of my own memories.”

  He closed one eye, then shrugged. “I lived in the western suburbs of Sydney. Working-class. Public schools.”

  “And not near the sea.”

  “I’m making up for that now.”

  He told her about a big yacht he moored at a place called Port Hinchinbrook and a small cog clicked into place. She remembered…something. But she didn’t let on. When it came to talking about himself, Daniel was as tight as a rusted faucet. Now he’d started, she didn’t want to stop the flow.

  “What did your parents do for a living?” she asked.

  “My mother stayed at home.”

  “Baking apple pies?”

  “Scones. Great warm, with mountains of jam and loads of butter.”

  “I wonder if I can cook.”

  “If you can’t, that makes two of us.”

  Smiling, she scooped out more popcorn. “Where is she now?”

  “My mother died when I was young. I told you that.”

  He hadn’t told this Scarlet. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “What about your father? What’s he like?”

  “He’s dead, too.”

  “When you were young?” He nodded. “Do you remember what he was like?”

  “I remember he worked a lot. He was a carpenter.”

  “A noble trade. Did he play ball with you on weekends? Take you fishing?”

  “He worked.”

  “He must have had a day off.”

  “No, he didn’t.” His gaze dropped. “Not until he absolutely had to.”

  She apologized again. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  He looked at her as if her hair had turned bright green. “I’m not sad. I’m…nothing.” He glared at the TV screen. “Let’s forget it.”

  Scarlet filled her mouth with popcorn. She’d pushed enough. His face was suddenly so hard. His body so still. Whatever had happened between Daniel and his dad ran deep and still cut. Which begged the question: Did she have a dark moment in her past? Something she’d sooner forget?

  She pushed the popcorn bowl away. Suddenly she was full. A better word was stuffed.

  “I’ve had enough.”

  “For a lightweight,” he said, “you sure can pack away the tucker.”

  “Is that an Aussie term for food?” When he nodded, she flopped onto her side. “Well, don’t feed me any more tucker tonight. If I don’t like exercise, I’m in trouble with the scales.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “No pain. Though I still feel a little odd.” She found the right word. “Separate.” Apart.

  When she’d been in the hospital, that woman—her mother—had unsettled her. Thinking of Faith Anders even now sent a shiver scuttling over her skin. But she couldn’t pinpoint why.

  “I didn’t want to go home with that woman,” she admitted.

  “She’s your mother.”

  “With every bone in my body, it doesn’t feel that way.”

  “Maybe because you’d already made up your mind about staying with me.”

  “I know you think I’m playing games, but I’m not. I feel safe with you.”

  His smile was wry. “If only the ‘old you’ could hear that.”

  “I can’t say why I acted or thought the way I did before today. I can only tell you how it feels to be me now.”

  “You’re entitled to feel any way you want.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Even though I’m aware it’s a trick question.”

  “So would it be entirely wrong for you to put your arm around me now? You know, just to give me an idea of whether I’m actually off course.”

  “Perhaps you need to ask your father if that’s a good idea.”

  She scowled. Her father?

  “I’m an adult,” she said. “If you don’t like me the way I am now, well, I suppose that’s another story.”

  “You’re trying to manipulate me.”

  “Oh, but you’re too smart for that.”

  Then she went ahead and did what she knew they both wanted her to do. She sidled up, reached back and wrapped his arm around her. Wanting to sigh at the warmth and the strength in his touch, she snuggled against his chest.

  “There. See? That’s not so bad.” As she fit the
sash of his arm more securely around her, she thought she might have felt the scuff of his chin brush her crown.

  “I can see two things happening down the track,” he said. “You abusing me for taking advantage of this situation—”

  “Or us falling in love again.”

  “Again? We were never in love.”

  She grazed her lips over his upper arm. “Are you sure?” She grazed again. Dropped a light kiss.

  She felt his chest harden against her.

  “Define love,” he said.

  “It’s an overwhelming emotion that starts like a spark at your core. Then as you grow closer, that flicker gets brighter, warmer, until it’s a flame licking through every channel of your body, heating every part of you inside and out. It’s like being put in the perfect toaster and getting more and more ready to pop.”

  “You feel that way now?”

  “I feel as if those flames are building. Like I want them to consume me, scorch and singe me. I want that burn to go on forever. At the same time I need to have that blaze put out.”

  “Let me guess how.”

  He had a smile in his voice. She smiled, too. Then with deliberate care she shifted and began to unbutton her shirt. She didn’t think he quite knew what was happening…until she let one side fall open. As the air met her flesh, he stiffened. But he didn’t pull back.

  Feeling she’d done this before, she moved one leg just enough for the shirttails to fall more apart. Reaching, she found his hand and guided his palm over her ribs, past her navel until his fingertips feathered the naked mound between her legs. If she didn’t think he’d been here before, she might feel shy.

  His fingers curled and drew away. “You planned this?”

  “I didn’t have any fresh underwear, is all.”

  She heard the amused smile in his voice. “Scarlet, you’re just plain wicked.”

  She pressed against him. “I can be much more than that.”

  * * *

  He probably should have thought it through. What would happen if he buckled? How would he justify taking advantage of her this way—to himself, to her family or to Scarlet when she was more herself? She might be pushing hard but he was in control of this situation.

  Or he ought to be.

  None of those arguments were worth a damn when she craned higher and their lips just seemed to fit together. And as their mouths fused and locked and they each began to explore with hands, with tongues, any reasoning about regrets flew from his head like dust on a windy day. On one important point, Scarlet had it right. They may have kissed only once before tonight but they had indeed shared some smoldering moments. As his palm sculpted her side and brought her irrevocably near, he accepted their fate. Right or wrong, weak or strong, he would have her in his bed tonight.

  With his mouth covering hers, he was acutely aware of her open shirt, of her breasts—and every blessed part of her from there on down. With her soft warm flesh held tight against him, he savored the magnified buzz in his groin and steady throb of his blood as he responded to every one of her positive signals. With persuasive fingers filing up through his hair and a naked thigh winding over his lap, multiple ideas of how he might be able to please her unwound in his mind like an endless yarn.

  His palm traced up her side again before, thumb winging out, he caught and measured the weight of her breast. Then he angled his thumb higher, teasing a nipple until its peak was hard and she was pushing against him.

  Her lips on his, she whispered, “I knew it would feel like this.” That was followed by an echoing beat in time, then a jolt of conscience. But to his bones he believed the woman burning for his affections now was the real, less inhibited Scarlet Anders. That fall had been an accident, but the way she was kissing him, pressing up against him, making sweet moaning noises deep in her throat…

  This was no mistake.

  She shifted her thigh until she was perched spread-eagled on his lap. Like the answer to a dream, her two exquisite breasts appeared before his eyes. Lower, courtesy of the plasma’s flickering light, he admired a flat tummy and, a hand span below her navel, that open invitation. When she arched toward him, his mouth found the tip of her breast at the same time he whipped her over and on her back.

  His right knee nudged between her legs as his left foot planted on the floor to balance his weight. While her feathery touch rode the slopes from his neck to his shoulders, he gently sucked, lightly nipped, before swapping to worship her other breast. One long silken leg coiled up over the back of his thigh. The calf grazed his side several times as if judging the best place to land. When he nipped a little harder, she writhed and her leg clamped down.

  Straightening, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and ripped the white interlock up and over his head. He was about to tackle his jeans when his gaze found hers. Her eyes appeared both slumberous and hungry, the look of a lioness after the kill, enjoying the start of her meal. She could feast on him as long as she pleased. Still…

  Here tonight, under such unusual circumstances, he had to ask again.

  His hands settling on either side of her head, he leaned in and said, “You’re sure this is what you want?”

  She laughed softly, a throaty sexy sound. Moving beneath him like a sleek and restless cat, she found his hand and ran his palm down the line of her throat, between her breasts, over her tummy and lower. When his touch slid between her soft folds, urgent heat flashed through his veins. She was slick and warm. Unmistakably ready.

  With his gaze locked on hers, his fingers rode back up to find that sensitive nub. Her breath hitched, eyes shut and pelvis lifted to meet him, and he began to circle and rub oh-so-lightly. Her hips started to move, too, small irregular rotations, while a contented smile hooked the corners of her mouth. After a few moments, when she’d coiled her arms over her head and looked as if she might take off, he moved to ditch his jeans.

  Joining her again, she reached for him. While her hands roamed up and down the length of his arms, he returned to his labor of love, concentrating on pleasing her, gauging her reactions to various methods, working out what she liked best. When he sensed that the tension running through her had built to a critical pushing-the-ceiling point, he positioned himself and nudged the head of his erection inside of her.

  The sensation was a fierce visceral rush that flashed hot from that point of his anatomy to every cell in his body. Air brushed the damp skin between his shoulder blades as he throbbed and hardened more. Then he became vaguely aware of something flat and small resting below his throat where his heart was threatening to Olympic broad jump out of his chest. A hand was pressing him away.

  She wanted him to stop?

  Now?

  “What’s wrong?” he ground out.

  “You forgot something.”

  He tried to think what.

  “Daniel, we want to be safe.”

  Drawing back, he swore to himself. Guess there was a first time for everything. Still, he couldn’t believe he’d been so careless about something so important. Something that could have repercussions for the rest of their lives. He for one was not ready for parenthood. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would be.

  He pushed up onto bare feet.

  “I’ll be back.”

  She was already curling up off the longue. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  Standing before him, she wound her arms around his middle as her lips traced a teasing line over his chest, up under his throat to his chin. His head at an angle, he nibbled the fragrant side of her neck while his hands rounded over the rise of her buns. When she stretched on tiptoe and wiggled, he held her firm and bent at his knees. He wanted to be closer, needed to be joined. He longed to thrust up inside of her again, this time all the way.

  Releasing the hold on her backside, he grabbed the opening of her shirt. After peeling the fabric from her back, he tossed the shirt aside, then hoisted her up off her feet. As her legs snap-locked around his hips and her arms looped about his neck, his mo
uth captured hers again. Only this time, there was no holding back. This kiss was reckless. Desperate.

  On autopilot, he headed for the main bedroom. Not because they needed the convention of a mattress. He’d have consummated this next step on a hessian bag in the middle of the Gobi Desert if that was the offer. His mission was to find the packet in his bedside drawer, and find it fast, because it was getting near impossible to keep his mind on being responsible. With every step, their caresses grew wilder, the fire flared brighter. She was deliberately sliding up and down against him like that, teasing him shamelessly. And he loved her for it.

  In the bedroom, he balanced her with one arm and whipped back the covers with the other. Then he dropped her on the sheet among the pillows and threw open the dresser drawer. After sheathing himself, he joined her, prowling up and over her legs, tasting a line of creamy smooth flesh along the way. When they were eye to eye again, she tilted her head in a pretty pose, reached down and gripped him tight in a fist. Daniel jerked at the bolt of pleasure before growing very still.

  She dragged her hand up, squeezed back down, then pumped him a few more breathtaking times. He was spellbound, hovering between sublime pleasure and can’t-hold-on-much-longer bliss. By the time she released him, her message was clear.

  We can’t get more ready than this.

  Drawing her knees back toward her hips, he settled between her opened thighs. Then he eased inside enough to have her catch a quick breath, adjust and melt into the sheet. Her lips were parted, glistening and so tempting. One of her arms was looped over her head. His hand circled her wrist before he plunged and entered her fully. While his nerve endings jumped and quivered, her hand flexed and she arched up.

  “I remember…” she murmured, and everything, including Daniel’s heart, seemed to stop.

  Remembered? How much? Enough to know how determined she’d been in a previous life that this shouldn’t happen? Enough for her to jerk away and slap his face before storming out, fuming? Possibly crying?

  “I remember,” she said, drawing a line around the curve of his jaw with her free hand, “feeling this way. Being with you…like this.”