The Wedding Must Go On (9 page)

A thousand tingling darts lit and, within minutes, had joined to hover, ready to rush in and explode all at once. But then the stroking eased and half of her breathless tension drained away. In another world, she swayed as he eased to his feet, his chest sliding against her until they again stood face to face. Before she could focus, his mouth crashed down, taking hers in a way that had her wondering if this was the same man.

Starving. Single-minded.

Committed.

His mouth covering hers, he collected her in his arms and moved to the edge of the creek where he laid her upon the soft grass-covered bank, then straightened to stand before her. Water rushed down his glistening chest, packed abs, powerful arms. Then the shorts came off and she couldn’t drag her eyes away. He was tall and built, but like never before she realized Nate Sparks was a strong man—and a fully aroused one. As he lowered over her his
hard heat ironed down her front until his mouth found the sensitive tip of her breast.

Each in turn, he teased her nipples, alternatively twirling his tongue and nipping the beads while his hand took over what his mouth had taken such pleasure in only moments before. The spiral of sensation was immediate and so fierce, she could feel the promise of release a mere breath away. Being with Nate this way felt so extraordinary, so altogether new, and yet on a different plane, she wondered if in another life they’d met like this before.

His jeans had landed nearby. Light-headed, she realized he was wrestling with the belt—no, the pocket—and drawing something out. A foil wrap. Protection. But when he shifted up to sheath himself, needing to measure and pleasure him, she caught him in one hand, squeezed and led him back. Groaning out a shuddering sigh, he gradually lowered back down and, curving an arm around her head, tenderly kissed her again.

Lying in the dappled sunshine, she worked his length from base to tip and down again, revelling in the way he moved with her while his throat made gravelled, grateful sounds. When he’d hardened to steel and she sensed his dam about to break, reluctantly she pulled back and let him see to the condom.

A heartbeat later, he was hovering above her, reaching around to find her calf and bring that leg over the back of his own steely thigh. Her every cell sizzling, Roxy ran her fingers through the wiry hair on his chest and gazed into hooded blue eyes that she knew at this minute saw only her.

‘I couldn’t have spent my life not knowing this,’ he said, ‘not know you like this. I wouldn’t have let you go.’

When he entered her, she was beyond ready, and yet that initial nudge caught her breath. As a lit-fuse of sensation ripped through her his head dropped into her drying hair
and he murmured more words that brought happy tears to her eyes. Then he began to move, a powerful yet measured rhythm that matched the deep steady beating of her heart.

Soon the ache of need was everywhere—her
everything
. While the burn at her core continued to condense and glow, each second a little stronger, a little brighter, he hitched up so that his elbows were locked and embedded in the grass either side of her shoulders. His hands clasped hers where they’d fallen over her head and as their fingers twined he closed his eyes and lifted his face, inch by inch, towards the sun. When he moved again, driving in deeper, thrusting harder, he struck a spot so unstable, so combustible, she groaned deep in her throat and, on reflex, pressed in around him.

A barely contained fire began to crackle and leap at the same instant Roxy found herself suspended high above the world with only a glimmer of all things perfect to keep her from falling. As if they’d reached the same plateau at the exact same moment, Nate took breath and stilled too. A line of perspiration running from the corner of his brow, he put strain aside long enough to smile into her eyes, then slowly, carefully, he moved again.

A moment later, on first a tremor, then a gasp, she was thrown towards the stars and shattered into a million fiery pieces.

‘Y
OU’RE
wondering, aren’t you?’

The surrounding eucalypts’ minty smell had softened as the day’s heat had waned and Nate couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt more at peace. But now, hearing Roxy’s drowsy question, he slipped from beneath the blanket of his post-coital buzz and absorbed more the amazing reality of what had just transpired. Her cheek resting on his chest, he stroked her hair as they lay twined together among the reeds lining the Glenrowan Homestead creek.

Roxy Trammel was fierce and beautiful and sexy and
fun
. Play-fighting in the water, kissing him near senseless on this bank. Nate only wished he could put life and its complications on hold long enough to enjoy more than four days soaking up this unique kind of joy.

Eyes closing again, he feathered his lips over the damp dome of her crown, breathed in the fresh-water scent clinging to her hair and wound his mind back to her question. She thought he was wondering about something?

In a low gravelled voice, he said, ‘Only about having you again.’

When his nether regions jerked at the thought, he mustered his energy, pushed up and slid back into the water, dragging Roxy and her delectable curves along with him. Mid-stream, he wrapped her purposefully in his arms and,
while she smiled and ironed herself up against him, he dropped meaningful kisses upon her shoulder, over the honeyed slope of her throat.

‘Actually,’ she murmured, tracing her nails along his nape and making him groan with want, ‘I wondered if you might think I was sorry this happened.’

His heartbeat and nuzzling stopped. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’ His head snapped up. ‘And no,’ she finished and lifted one brow. ‘I was determined not to let you get close.’

‘Well, you can’t get much closer than this. Although I’d like to try.’ He drew a lazy circle around that adorable dimple in her cheek. ‘Guess this was always going to happen.’

‘So, now that it’s out of our systems—’

‘It’s not out of mine.’

That dimple deepened as her eyes darkened. ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’

‘Not good.’ His lips skimmed her brow. ‘It was great.’

Over the next few minutes, he discovered new places to explore, highly sensitive spots that drove up her breathing and left the skin on her arms covered in tiny bumps. As her fingers fanned over his chest, stopping every so often to circle and pluck a small flat disc, his erection grew and grew. On autopilot, he bent at the knees, got a good grip on her flanks, then hoisted her up. The tips of her breasts tickling his collarbones, she wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, and curled in as he manoeuvred her lower half, pleasing and teasing them both. When his tip then entire shaft filled her once again, she sucked back a breath and melted against him.

By the time he remembered protection, Roxy looked to be enjoying the action more than he was, if that was possible. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, her neck rocked back while she drove him on; Nate had to lock his
every thought and fibre to maintain control. He was that close to letting go.

Her head coming forward, her lips brushing his, she murmured in a thick creamy voice, ‘Shouldn’t we see what’s happened to our friends?’

He kissed the hollow of her throat, her chin, her swollen parted lips. ‘Soon.’

‘They might think we drowned.’

‘In the most pleasurable way possible.’

Biting down, he pushed in to the hilt and Roxy caught her breath, stilled then, releasing a quivering sigh, began to move again.

After a few more minutes, when his legs had begun to shake from the strain of holding back the tide, she said, ‘I thought our mission was to get those two back together, not to—’

Her breathless enunciation of that four-letter word was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. If he didn’t stop now, it would be too late. He disengaged those vital mindless parts even as he kept her close. He needed a second condom and he needed it now.

‘They could be off talking somewhere,’ he replied, moving with her towards the bank and thinking,
Not that I want to talk at this precise moment
.

‘Or they could be organizing separate lifts out of this place.’

Drawing back, he examined her furrowed brow. Roxy might have surrendered to the friction sparking between them, but now her pendulum had swung back to helping her friend. His rational mind said she was right. They should get back. But his sexually activated thought patterns were demanding more time alone. What difference would ten minutes make?

When her chin tucked in and she frowned, Nate realized
he’d spoken that last aloud. Determined now, Roxy wiggled away and tramped onto the bank.

‘After ignoring her like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if Marla refused to talk to me again.’

‘You weren’t ignoring her. We were setting the mood. But you’re right,’ he conceded. ‘We’ll need to work harder if we want to move this forward.’

Her back to him, he let his gaze savour a most tempting rear view as she retied her bikini bottoms then top. Dragging a hand over his chest, already missing her warmth, he waded out too.

She found her dress. ‘Moving forward means making sure they spend time together.’

‘And that they see firsthand how fences are mended—’ coming up behind, he traced his cheek gently up hers ‘—and how good making up can be.’

She threw an uncertain look over her shoulder. ‘As long as we don’t get too distracted.’

‘I’ve been nothing
but
distracted.’ He edged her around and, setting his forehead to hers, confessed, ‘Since that night you kicked me out, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.’

She recoiled. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to mention that curse again.’

‘I’m not going to mention that curse again.’

‘No more talk about underachieving or not measuring up to all that you can be?’

Casting aside a mental snapshot of Roxy in that white wedding gown, of his business plan going down the gurgler, he nodded. ‘Promise.’

And, if he could say that and mean it, couldn’t he lighten up more and invite Roxy to his parents’ anniversary bash? His folks could conjecture and lean all they pleased. How far a relationship went was up to him. He certainly enjoyed
making love to Roxy, more than any woman he’d been with, but he still had all his faculties, didn’t he? Hadn’t been blinded by a supernova flash of everlasting love and the overwhelming urge to propose and throw his career away. In fact, he felt bolstered. Strong.

Hell, he felt fan-freakin’-
tastic
!

Clearing his throat, Nate got ready to mention that his parents had been married thirty-one years, which would lead to a comment about the party and fact that he’d like her to accompany him, when, looking past his shoulder, Roxy yelped, laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth as if wanting to take the noise back.

‘Did you see that?’

Her finger shook at a place in the creek where ripples had spread out from a central point. Nate glimpsed a shadow wriggling beneath the water’s surface … a fur-covered animal with a bill for a beak. She gripped his shoulder with both hands and whispered, ‘A platypus. I wonder if she has a nest? They really do look like a cross between a beaver and a duck. So cute!’

‘They have spurs on their back paws.’ Frowning, he looked around for a stick or a rock. ‘I think there might be poison involved.’

Certainly they could have fun, but reality was they were in the wild here, not a suburban backyard.

Roxy only laughed. ‘Okay, Worry Wart. We won’t disturb her.’

Turning, he slid his palm up her slender waist, over those beautiful buoyant breasts. Memories of the snug feel of her, the fresh feminine taste, filled his mind and, slipping into the zone again, he brought her gorgeous body close.

But, with a grin and shake of her head, she wound away and headed for the path out. Beaten, he slapped his hands
against his thighs, then slipped into his shoes, slung his jeans and shirt over one shoulder and, jogging to catch up, followed her out.

‘Guess we should leave before a bunyip gets you,’ he said, fitting his hat.

‘Why me? Why not
us
?’

‘They only like the flesh of women.’ Securing her hand in his, he helped her through orchid-tipped sprays of emu bush and out onto the open plain. ‘Aboriginal folklore says they lurk around creeks and billabongs.’

‘I read somewhere they look like gargoyles.’

‘Some say they resemble snarling dogs with flippers. Or are covered in feathers with tails like a horse.’

‘You really do have an imagination.’

‘Says the woman who creates bunny wedding gowns.’

His arm sliding around her waist, still damp and cool from their swim, he inhaled air that dried his throat in two minutes flat. The Glenrowan Homestead was a smudge of grey paint on the horizon. Plenty of time to bring up that other issue.

‘My parents are throwing a party this weekend,’ he said. ‘An annual event.’

‘Their anniversary?’

However did she guess? ‘I wondered if you’d like to go.’ He expected curiosity. Maybe a spark of interest. Instead she nibbled her lip and averted her gaze. His chuckle was hollow. ‘Don’t act so excited.’

She wound hair behind her ear. ‘Are you sure you want me to go?’

‘I asked, didn’t I?’

‘Let’s see how you feel when we get home.’

His eyebrows hiked up. ‘You think I’ll change my mind?’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to rush into anything.’

‘It’s an invitation to a party, not to share the rest of our lives together.’ When she nibbled again, he smiled crookedly. ‘I’m breaking through my barriers. It’s a good thing.’

‘I’m not so sure—’

‘Well, I am.’ He blinked, then cocked his head as a thought struck. ‘Or is this hedging about you?’

‘Me?’

Walking on, he shrugged. ‘Maybe you have more of a hang-up than I do.’

‘I doubt that’s possible.’

‘Did you see your dad much after he left?’

‘What has that got to do with—?’

But as her words cut off and the defensive glint in her eyes faded, she let out a breath and started walking again. He wasn’t poking fun at her, merely making a point. If he’d had a family background reason for wanting to stay clear of ‘trouble’, well, so did she.

‘After he married again, my mother insisted I visit every other weekend,’ she began. ‘She said he and I both deserved to know one another. Now I wonder if she sent me to get information more than anything. But his second wife didn’t like me much, which was fine because I didn’t much like her either. My visits dwindled off to hardly ever. When that marriage broke up too, I began to visit again. Until I found new perfume bottles stashed under the bathroom sink and different nightdresses peeking out from under my father’s pillow. He married that third time and I honestly hoped he’d found the one.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘As far as my father is concerned, one woman was never enough.’

‘Do you talk to him now?’

‘I guess. I can’t forget that he hurt us, but I’ve tried to, you know … forgive.’ With the afternoon sun casting longer shadows over the parched red ground, she grunted. ‘I told him once how much he’d hurt me, but he didn’t understand.
He said he’d never stopped loving me. I don’t think he knows what love is.’

‘Was he a good dad in other ways?’

‘When I was very young, I remember him kissing my forehead every night before I fell asleep. He’d tell me I was his special princess. Growing up, I had these two totally different ideas of him clashing around in my head. There was even a part of me that understood why my mother didn’t want to confront him over his extramarital affairs and possibly have him leave.’ Her guilty gaze shot across to him. ‘I’ve never admitted that to anyone.’

‘You wanted your father. I understand completely.’

A small smile touched her lips, her eyes.

‘He could be a whole lot of fun,’ she explained. ‘A charmer.’ She sent a wry look. ‘A little like you.’

‘Trust me.’ He tugged her closer. ‘He’s nothing like me.’

‘My great-aunt Leasie got caught up with a charmer once,’ she went on, matching her steps with his. ‘Harry Mercer. He made a living selling bogus life assurance in the sixties. She dropped him cold when she found out. He still writes to her from prison, but she never responds. Sometimes I think she’d like to, but she’s too smart to bend, even a little.’

‘Did your aunt ever marry?’

‘She’s happy alone.’ Roxy corrected herself. ‘That’s not entirely true. She collects budgerigars. Small. Friendly. Low maintenance.’

‘Unlike men.’

‘Unlike men like Harry.’

Or like her philandering father
. Nate might try to manipulate a situation to get the best outcome for all concerned, but no one could ever accuse him of being disloyal. He might not want to rush down any aisle but when he married,
it would be in every sense ‘for ever’. Why do something if you didn’t intend to do it properly?

As they entered the homestead’s yard through the dilapidated picket fence Nate lifted his nose to the air. ‘I smell bread baking.’

‘This is the bush. Bet it’s damper.’ Australia’s iconic soda bread traditionally baked over the coals of a fire.

Nate sniffed again. ‘And some kind of stew.’ He held his growling stomach. He hadn’t eaten since soggy sandwiches on the plane.

A distant curlew called—a hauntingly lonely sound, Nate thought—and to one side of the homestead’s steps, Mr Glenrowan tended a campfire. Suspended over the low-licking flames hung two Bedourie ovens—the Outback’s steel-modelled version of the cast-iron Dutch oven. One oven for the stew, Nate guessed. One for the damper.

Looking up, Mr Glenrowan grinned and pushed to his feet. ‘I wondered when you two would show up. Your friends’ve been back a while.’

Roxy’s cheeks went pink, and not from the sun. ‘Where are they now?’

‘Marla’s in helping the wife.’

‘And I’ve been collecting wood for the fire.’

Nate searched out that familiar second male voice. Greg was rounding the homestead’s corner, a bundle in his arms.

Mr Glenrowan nodded at Greg’s stash. ‘Good work. Set ‘em down there.’ He moved towards the steps. ‘I’ll go see what’s keeping those girls.’