A Wedding One Christmas

by Therese Beharrie

  That was the last thing she wanted.

  And then his hands were moving. The feel of them over her body, and the taste of him—oh, the taste of him—had her answering his moan with one of her own. Passion shuddered through her body, and her hands fell to his shoulders, her fingers pressing into him so hard she was sure she’d leave marks.

  Without warning and in one swift movement, he lifted her so she was sitting on his lap.

  ‘This is incredibly inappropriate,’ she said, pulling back to stare at her legs that were now stretched in front of her. Over him.

  ‘So, kissing me—shall we say, enthusiastically?—in public is appropriate, but not sitting on my lap?’

  ‘None of this is appropriate.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ His hands ran up and down her waist. ‘No one’s noticed though.’

  ‘Someone might.’

  ‘You’re right.’ His eyes glinted. ‘We should participate in the activities the other people are doing to avoid suspicion.’

  ‘Other people—’

  She broke off when his one arm slid under her thighs, his other supporting her back. And then he was standing, and walking slowly toward the edge of the pier.

  ‘Ezra,’ she said softly. Sweetly. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What do you think I’m doing?’

  ‘Something I think you’re going to seriously regret if you destroy my dress.’

  He paused. ‘So take it off.’

  ‘Fine. Set me down.’

  ‘You’re not going to run, are you?’

  ‘Oh, hilarious.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You were the one who gave me this option. Trust me.’

  He nodded, then slowly set her down. Almost as soon as he had, she loosened the ties of the wrap-around dress she wore.

  He was in front of her before she’d realised he’d moved, gripping the two sides of the dress she’d opened.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to keep her breath steady. It was hard to do with him so close.

  ‘As much as I want you to continue, we’ve caught the attention of the others.’

  Angie didn’t bother looking over. ‘Seems like you didn’t think this plan of yours through.’

  ‘There’s always Plan B,’ he said, and let go of her dress so he could pick her up again.

  The air left her lungs at the move—how had she not realised what that muscular body could do?—and then again at the fact that he was studiously avoiding looking down at her. It took her a moment to realise it was because her dress was still open, falling lazily over her to offer glimpses of her body.

  ‘I’m not sure your caveman tendencies would go down well with your students,’ Angie commented, holding on to him tightly as he made his way down the incline of grass on the other side of the pier.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m starting a new job next year. I doubt any of my new students would find out.’

  ‘Are you nervous about it?’

  ‘The job isn’t that different, regardless of where you go.’

  Angie relaxed slightly when the ground became level. ‘The environments are different though. You can be sure the students at Grahamstown and those in Cape Town won’t be the same.’

  ‘That might be true, but I’ve never had a problem.’

  ‘I wonder why.’

  ‘I’m an excellent teacher, Angie.’

  She thought about how patient he’d been with her as she tried to verbalise her feelings about her family. And how kind he’d been when trying to show her where she’d gone wrong. Then there was his steady strength and easy confidence. The way he thought about what she said to him, engaging with it instead of merely listening.

  Oh, yes—she had no doubt he was an excellent teacher. And she knew she would have had a crush on him because of it. His body was just a bonus.

  Not that she’d tell him that.

  ‘I’m sure you’re a great teacher. But that isn’t the reason you haven’t had any problems.’ She waited as he paused and looked back to the pier. He gave a satisfied nod and put her down. ‘How attentive are your students?’

  ‘Very,’ he said, pulling the shirt from his pants and undoing the buttons.

  Her mouth dried. Had she forgotten a swim would mean he’d have to undress, too? How could she have?

  But then it didn’t matter because his shirt was open, and she was treated to ripples and indents she’d never really seen on a man in person before. He set his shirt on the ground. Lifted an eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, I was admiring your lecturing abilities,’ she said, somehow managing to keep the lust out of her voice. When he chuckled, goosebumps shot out on her arms.

  ‘You’re saying my class is attentive because of how I look?’ He shook his head. Began to pull off his pants. ‘You’re forgetting the content I teach. It’s riveting stuff. People are genuinely interested in the issues affecting women, particularly in adverse political climates.’

  ‘Of course they are,’ she said sarcastically. ‘That’s why we’ve created an entire field of study focusing on those issues. Because everyone is interested in it. No,’ she continued, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re obviously in denial. Which would be fine until you see me in your class.’ At his lifted brow, she smiled. ‘I’m thinking of enrolling into university again just so I can take it. You know, because I’m genuinely interested.’

  He gave her a sexy smile, though she couldn’t tell if it was his normal smile or not. Maybe she was just projecting the fact that he was standing in front of her in only his briefs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  And her imagination wouldn’t have been able to conjure up that.

  ‘Having you in my class would be a nightmare,’ he said, taking a step toward her. ‘I prize being ethical. Most of what I’d like to teach you wouldn’t be inside of a classroom.’

  She nearly stumbled back, almost all the bravado she had earlier fading. Then she realised it was only because they weren’t on an equal playing field. She bent down to untie her shoes.

  ‘What would my first lesson be?’ she asked, kicking her shoes aside. ‘How to get a woman to strip down to her underwear on the day you meet her?’

  ‘Probably,’ he replied, his eyes going hot when she slipped off her dress and laid it over his shirt on the ground.

  She wasn’t wearing anything remotely seductive, yet her black cotton bra and panties seemed to be doing the trick nevertheless. Sometimes she loved the simplicity of sexual desire.

  Though there was more with the two of them, she knew. Sexual desire had been intensified by the intimacy they’d shared. The emotional stripping, which had been as effective in creating this connection, this pull between them as the physical stripping had been.

  If anyone had asked, she would have told them she’d been lured by the impressive body behind his clothes. If she was being honest with herself, the temptation was just as much because of his charm, his humour, his kindness, his heart—the list surpassed even that—as his abs.

  ‘Well then,’ she said slowly, forcing herself to focus on the seduction, ‘what would my second lesson involve?’

  She took a step back when he moved forward.

  ‘Even less clothing.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her lips curving. ‘When can I sign up?’

  She deliberately lowered her voice.

  ‘Right now.’

  Just as he reached for her, Angie felt the edge of the grass at her heels. Giving him wicked grin, she twisted her body so that his arms reached for air. Then she pushed his shoulder, creating enough momentum for him to fly into the water.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He’d realised what she’d done too late to keep himself from falling.

  But not too late to not take her with him.

  He grabbed her arm, and had a brief moment of satisfaction at her widened eyes
before the water engulfed them. His breath left his lungs—how was the water so cold on such a hot night?—but he put his arms around the figure in front of him, pulling Angie in so that they could surface together.

  ‘Why’d...you...do that?’ Angie spluttered once they did.

  ‘You mean why did I pull you into the water with me after you pushed me in?’

  She gave him a sly smile. ‘You looked like you needed some cooling off.’

  His lips curved, and he wondered what she’d say if he told her her plan had only worked for a few minutes. The desire was already back, stronger, more potent than before. He couldn’t fight it. He didn’t want to. Not when the memory of her stripping in front of him was as clear in his mind as she was currently in front of him.

  His hands itched to touch the breasts that had spilled over the cups of her bra. To run up and down the smooth bronze skin of her belly. To feel the curves; the bumps and fullness of her hips.

  The cold water did nothing to help him regain control over his body. He was grateful that he was fully submerged this time, so that she wouldn’t have to see the effect she had on him.

  How that made sense, he didn’t know. He wasn’t ashamed of what he felt for her. He sure as hell had never been embarrassed about his body before. Yet in some illogical part of his brain, he wanted to be...more respectful with her. In another, equally illogical part, he wanted to show her how much he respected her by making love with her.

  He nearly rolled his eyes at himself. It was a good thing he already knew she turned him into a contradictory, illogical mess.

  ‘This is so far from anything I’ve done in my life,’ she said as she treaded water.

  ‘Swimming?’

  She gave him a look, though her eyes told him she was amused. ‘No. This.’ The amusement changed to something more sombre. ‘With you. A man I only just met.’

  His heart thudded. ‘Is that your way of telling me you regret it?’

  Her eyes were solemn when they met his. ‘No. Which is probably the real reason I’m mentioning it at all. I don’t regret it. Not one single moment.’

  Warmth spread though him, though there was a slight panic there, too. Because he didn’t regret it either. Not the fun they’d had; not the arguments. Not even the emotional confessions that had stripped him raw and laid him over the fire, turning the heat up until he couldn’t help but face the reality of what he was running from.

  She did that to him. And he wanted to be happy about it. He wanted to be thrilled. But he couldn’t be. Not because he didn’t trust his judgement. It was exactly because he did trust his judgement that was the problem.

  He trusted Angie.

  But this day together had been a fluke. A prank the universe or whatever force was in power had played on them. It would soon be over. They’d go back to the reality of their lives in less than twenty-four hours. Where there was brokenness. And people who loved them, but didn’t understand them.

  He wanted to go home, but it felt almost impossible to go home and face that. Or face it without her.

  ‘Did I say something wrong?’

  ‘No,’ he replied immediately, forcing a smile onto his face. He couldn’t show her that he was worried. If he did, they wouldn’t even have this moment. He desperately needed this moment. ‘I was thinking that it’s...strange.’

  ‘And you regret it?’

  ‘What?’ He swam a little closer so that there was no space between them. ‘No. No, I don’t. Not a second of it.’

  She studied him. ‘Not even when you found me crying behind a tree?’

  ‘I’m a big fan of what happened behind that tree,’ he teased.

  She laughed. ‘I’m sure.’ Her eyes softened. ‘What about when I volunteered for you to be Father Christmas?’

  ‘Not quite as enjoyable.’ His arms snaked around her waist. ‘But memorable. As was your portrayal of the Virgin Mary.’

  She smiled, and something completely unexpected happened inside him. His heart filled. He could somehow feel it happening, though that was nonsensical. And yet it was happening. The cracks Ana had left; the holes Liesel had poked inside him. They filled, and he knew it was because of that smile.

  That smile that was a perfect mixture of her strength, her empathy. That smile that warmed his soul even as it heated his body. It gave him strength even though it shouldn’t have. Not if he wanted to go home and face his mistakes, face the disappointment, and not have it break him. Not if he wanted to go home and accept the disappointment as a part of his family’s love.

  He wasn’t sure he could do all that without the strength Angie gave him. He wanted to, more than he ever wanted anything else before. He didn’t want to depend on a woman to live his life fully, without fear. And wasn’t that what he was doing now, giving Angie this power over him?

  No, he thought almost immediately. He felt stronger because of her, yes, but she helped him to realise he could do it on his own. He’d realised the things that would help him to do it.

  The real problem was that he wanted her. It was that plain, that simple. It had nothing to do with him going home. Or with what he’d face at home. It had everything to do with the falling. That after a day in her presence, he knew he was falling, and could only imagine what another day—a week, a month, a year—would do.

  He didn’t want to have to imagine. He wanted to live it.

  He didn’t want to say goodbye.

  His free hand lifted, almost of its own accord, and wiped the wet hair from her forehead. He replaced his fingers with his lips. It was surprisingly tender. To both him and her, he saw. This time, he very deliberately moved his mouth to hers. Found them already parted, waiting for him. An invitation, he thought, when she gave him a slight nod.

  So he answered.

  Her lips were soft, as was the sigh that left them before they were completely covered by his. The water sizzled around them, as if they’d put a hot pan into cold water. In some ways, he supposed they had.

  What else could he have called the heat coming from the merging of their lips? What else could he have thought as his arm tightened at her waist, bringing her half-naked body against him, and feeling the fire of it ignite inside him?

  All he knew was that it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t close enough. He couldn’t feel enough. In answer, his hands slid over the curves he’d admired earlier, cupping her butt to bring her closer even as she hooked her legs around his waist.

  He could have very well died in that moment; he would have died a happy man.

  Or perhaps he had died. And if so, he’d gone to hell. Because it suddenly felt as if the night had turned into the hottest day. Or perhaps they’d merely been sucked into the core of the stars that shone down on them. Or perhaps he was just losing his mind.

  His body.

  His heart.

  He didn’t care. Not when losing felt this good. Not when being lost felt this good. Because that was what he was. Lost—so completely lost—in her kiss. In the sweetness of it, the passion. In the way her hands scorched his skin as they roamed over his body. In the fact that he could barely feel the cold water around them as they did.

  Somehow his feet kept them afloat. Somehow it felt as if there were no other movements besides their bodies pressed together, her hips slowly rocking against his, his hands squeezing her butt, bringing her tighter against him, intensifying the pleasure shuddering through his body.

  Though he wasn’t sure how that was possible.

  It didn’t stop him from unclasping the back of her bra. She moaned into his mouth, sending vibrations through his entire body that somehow settled in his groin. He threw her bra onto the embankment, shifting his hands so that one held her more steadily while the other rose to cover her breast.

  It felt as if the air around him had stilled. He pulled back, his eyes lowering to the full roundness of it in his hand. T
entatively, he squeezed. Heard the shudder from her lips as his hand kneaded. As his thumb brushed over the peak of her nipple.

  He repeated the motion; groaned when her hips slowed to match the rhythm of it. He lifted his eyes, saw the heat in hers—the heady passion, the intimate surrender—and something inside him stopped. How, he wasn’t sure, since everything inside him felt as if it were spinning, jumping, racing.

  Except for that one part.

  And in that part he felt a...reverence of some kind. For her. For what they were doing. For the fact that he was doing it with her. He hadn’t kept falling, like he thought he would. Nor had he landed in quicksand. His feet were firmly on the ground. And he was walking toward her.

  He’d always walk toward her.

  His head lowered to her breast; his tongue gently swirling around the peak his thumb had abandoned. She gasped, her hands holding either side of his head. Ezra knew this moment would be imprinted in his brain forever. The rounded curve of her butt in his one hand; the soft mound of her breast in his other as he angled it for his mouth. The taste of her, the feel of her.

  His head lifted and he nipped at her lips, wanting to add it to the memory. But then she gasped again, into his mouth, and he pulled back, following her eyes and seeing the movement that had distracted her.

  He immediately let go of her, twisting his body so that he could shield her from view. He sagged with relief when he saw it was only some ducks making their way down the embankment into the water. The distraction pulled him from the haze of pleasure he’d been in, and he nearly winced when he turned back and saw the expression on Angie’s face.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ Her voice shook. ‘After all, you’ve just protected my womanhood from those birds who were clearly voyeurs.’

  She offered him a wry smile; it hadn’t changed the unsteadiness of her voice. Or that she was moving away from him. She stopped only when there was enough distance that neither of them could reach out and touch the other.