One Night with the Groom

by Sara Daniel

  By the time he caught up, she was straining to lift the trunk off the ground, but the two of them together wouldn’t be strong enough to raise it an inch. Luckily, it hadn’t fallen on a building, an animal, or the fence. “You can’t lift it,” he said.

  “I have to. Help me, please.” Tears streaked her cheeks.

  “Why? What’s underneath?”

  “Sam. Our baby.”

  “What?” His heart stuttered. His legs turned to rubber, putting him on the verge of collapse. Their baby hadn’t even warranted a birth certificate.

  “It’s not a grave, just a fifteen dollar plaster of Paris kit I used to mark the baby’s life, but it’s all I have.” She scrubbed her short nails under the dirt and leaves on one side of the thick tree trunk, revealing a faint slab of white.

  “Sam,” he repeated, half-numb, halfway to tears.

  She knelt at the spot, expanding the cleaned area, until he could see an S that appeared to have been etched with a stick. “I never knew if we had a boy or a girl, so I picked Sam to stand for Samantha or Samuel. I come out here every day to be with our child, to know I’m not alone, and to remember the love from his or her creation. It’s all I have,” she repeated.

  “Luci.” Blake sank next to her, gathering her in his arms. “Oh, God, Luci.”

  She clung to him for a moment but pulled back long before he was ready to release her. “I’m going to get the tractor and pull the tree out of the way. Stay with Sam for me.”

  He nodded, unable to speak. His heart fell in love and shattered all at once. He’d lived with the facts that she’d been pregnant with his child and the baby had died before it ever had a chance to live, but he’d never felt like a father. He hadn’t experienced the pain of losing a child—his child.

  His frustration and heartbreak had centered on losing Luciana. He’d anguished over the helplessness of not being able to do anything for her as she lost blood and cried in panic while her parents whisked her to the emergency room and he followed behind, only to be left sitting on the hard waiting room chair.

  All his worry, fear, grief, and regret had centered on her well-being. Underneath the despair of her physical pain had been twin hints of relief and guilt. At eighteen, he hadn’t been ready for the responsibility of a wife and baby.

  The rumble of an engine interrupted his memories. A dull green tractor chugged into view. Luciana jumped down from the cab. She tugged an assortment of thick metal chains behind her, wrapping them around the tree trunk and securing them to the back of the metal frame with an efficiency that underscored her experience with the task.

  “Stand back,” she shouted.

  He obeyed while she settled inside the open cab. Intense concentration filled her gaze as she watched over her shoulder and pressed the accelerator. The chain tightened and strained. Black smoked poured from the exhaust pipe, and the chain creaked.

  Concerned the metal links would crack under the stress and having no desire to be flayed by them, he took another step back. The oversized wheels inched forward, tugging the huge tree along.

  After little more than twelve inches of progress, the engine belched another cloud of black smoke and, with an ominous clunk, turned silent. On the ground, with indents on the dirt on either side from the fallen tree trunk, he could see a plaster slab with the letters S-A-M etched across it and two large crisscrossed fissures along the surface.

  “It’s far enough,” he called.

  Luciana bounded to the ground and jumped over the fallen tree, dropping to her knees in front of the stone. “Sam.” She traced her fingers over the cracks.

  “Sam!” Her anguished cry echoed off the side of the barn as she dropped her face to the stone.

  To him, the baby had been a mere condition and complication until it simply disappeared from existence. But her grief made the loss real. Their son or daughter had never had the chance to grow up, to walk, to talk, to hug, to smile. He had lost. Luciana had lost. And they could never win it back.

  He knelt next to her, tucking his arm around her and shielding her body from the wind with his own. Used to assessing problems and tackling them head-on, he wanted to point out that the tree hadn’t touched their child. He could replace the plaster with something bigger and better. But she didn’t need cold logic. So, instead, he settled for the most inadequate, clichéd words on the planet. “I’m sorry.”

  For a long time, she didn’t reply. Then she turned and kissed him with an urgency that knocked him flat on his ass. She pulled his shirt open and kissed her way down his chest.

  “Luci.”

  “I don’t want to talk.” Her eyes burned bright and fierce, while the gusts whipped her hair around her face.

  His conscience revolted. He couldn’t take advantage of her distress and make love to her while she grieved. But he needed the connection. Even more, she needed it. He could deny himself but not her. Their coupling wouldn’t make up for what they’d lost, but maybe it could help them both move on.

  She rose over him and tugged off her jeans and panties. He swallowed, unable to move as he stared up at her, naked from the waist down, her T-shirt rippling against her chest with the breeze. Luciana, grown into a confident, aggressive woman, enthralled him a hundred times more than the timid girl who’d let him initiate every encounter. The girl had rocked his world. He feared the woman could destroy it.

  He pulled a condom from his wallet. He wouldn’t take a chance on recreating the hurt and drama from the past.

  Luciana nudged his chest until he lay on the grass as leaves fluttered and blew around them. She unfastened the button of his pants, her eyes crazed, expression desperate, and fingers shaking. A broken stick poked his thigh, and he tossed the twig aside, unsettled by his own powerlessness. But he wouldn’t change the dynamic. They could only go through with the encounter if she wanted it and needed it without him seducing her.

  “Luci, you don’t want to make love to me.” He tried to inject some sanity into their turbulent emotions. “You laid out your intentions inside the house. I promised to honor them, but good God, I’m not a saint.”

  She grasped his cock, freeing him from his briefs. “I changed my mind since then. I want to have sex with you.”

  Have sex, not make love. Despite the swelling of his dick, the difference churned his stomach. He could only love her, never use her for sex.

  She stroked her thumb over the head of his erection, the heat of her hand a striking contrast to the cool air, and he gasped, trying not to come in her hand. “I’m not asking for forever,” she said. “But I want to remember how our bodies connect, how alive I am with you, how right the world becomes when we’re together.”

  Then they would make love, because they’d never just had sex.

  “Are you sure?” He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from grasping her hips and seeking relief for his raging hard-on.

  “I am.” She rolled the condom over his length and then sank onto him, taking him all the way in with a single thrust.

  He groaned. He’d come home. No other words could explain the all-encompassing bliss. Luciana, his first love, the girl who’d believed him when he’d sworn he would love her forever, welcomed him back with open arms.

  Skimming her hands over his chest, she pumped her hips, her breath coming harder and faster, matching their rhythm. They needed each other too much to bother with finesse or lingering. He reached between her legs, gliding his index finger against her clit as she thrust down.

  She gasped and clutched his shoulders, riding him harder. Fingers slick, he massaged her, drinking in the sound of her moans. Her muscles shuddered around him, and she cried his name then whispered it, collapsing against his chest. Her spasms sent him out of control. He thrust his hips upward, his release exploded from him, and he shouted, “Luci!”

  Her name echoed off the wall of the barn. Then another wind gust carried it away as he wrapped his arm around her, holding her while she shivered.

  At last, her body stilled,
and she lifted her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “I think I just used you, Blake.”

  Chapter Six

  “You didn’t hear me complain, did you?” He strived for a light tone. She hadn’t used him. “Using” implied they’d only had sex, but their encounter had been much more.

  She sighed and pulled farther away.

  He hugged her tighter, needing to connect with her while they were still intimately joined. “I’m sorry you didn’t have me by your side after you lost Sam. Your parents didn’t want me to see you, and I thought I could make life easier for both of us if I disappeared for a while. I didn’t mean to stay gone, but once I left, I got absorbed in my own life and tried to avoid digging up the past.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile and eased off him, leaving him with a chill that had little to do with the windy evening and everything to do with the loss of skin-on-skin contact. “I’m as much to blame for not standing up for us. Without Sam, I guess we didn’t have enough of a relationship left to save.”

  Blake sat up, the chill turning his skin to ice. “You really believe that?”

  Not meeting his gaze, she picked up her jeans and stepped into them. “Of course. You just admitted how easy it was to walk away from me.”

  “No. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Jesus, it ripped my heart out.”

  Her fingers trembled as she tugged on her jeans zipper. “Regardless, our relationship is over and has been for a long time. I’m going to get a shovel and attempt to unwedge these pieces from the ground without breaking them more.”

  “Aren’t you going to put your shoes on first?”

  She glanced down at her bare feet. “I left my boots at the house.”

  The entire time they’d been outside in the dirt and rocks and sharp sticks, she hadn’t had shoes on? He stood and secured his pants, then looked down at the dirty, scratched tops of her feet. He could only imagine how battered the soles were. How could he not have noticed sooner? “You ran out here, drove a tractor, and moved a tree with no shoes?”

  She winced. “Yeah, not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but when the tree fell, I panicked.”

  “I noticed,” he whispered. “But your safety should come first. How badly did you hurt yourself?”

  “I’m not hurt, but if you make a big deal out of it, I’m going to limp and groan for sympathy.”

  If she expected him to play down her injuries so she’d suck it up, she’d picked the wrong strategy. Closing the space between them, he turned her palms up. They were red and scratched from trying to lift the tree. He glanced from the rusted chain still wrapped around the trunk back to her scrapes. “Tetanus shot?”

  “Current.”

  “Good. Then you don’t need medical attention, just pampering.” He wrapped his arms around her hips then hoisted her over his shoulder.

  She squealed. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you inside the house.” And taking the opportunity to hold her any way he could.

  “I can walk. Put me down before you hurt yourself.”

  “The only thing in danger of injury is my ego from your comments. I’m enjoying the excuse to put my hands on your ass.”

  She relaxed against him, no longer fighting him. “You’ll spoil me.”

  “I don’t think I can do enough spoiling in one night to affect your expectations.” But even as he teased, he proved the statement wrong. With the sun descending below the horizon, his expectations already exceeded his original plans. He wanted so much more than the single evening he’d allotted them to catch up.

  ***

  Blake didn’t release her until they were inside the house. Then, with a gentleness that stole her breath, he lowered her to her feet. Despite the quicker, more efficient shower inches away, he turned on the water in the oversized clawfoot bathtub.

  The water flowed over his wrist as he tested the temperature. After dumping in a generous scoop of bubble bath, he glanced over his shoulder and met her gaze. “Need some help getting out of those clothes?”

  Luciana swallowed. Considering she’d had her shirt off earlier and then her jeans off a few minutes ago when she’d jumped him, she shouldn’t be nervous. He’d already seen all of her, including her tears over Sam’s memorial. She didn’t have any more secrets.

  “Your pants are ripped,” she noted. “You don’t belong on a farm.”

  “Says the woman who drove a tractor with no shoes,” he teased. “I don’t care about the clothes. You can rip them to shreds if it means I get another chance to connect with you.”

  He lifted the edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head then reached behind her and unhooked her bra. His tender gaze locked with hers as he drew it off. “We’re going to take our time making love. I want a chance to love all of you.”

  She needed to push him away. If she let him cherish her, she’d set the stage for a massive heartache after he left. But her heart had ached for so long, she wanted to soak up his affection to treasure later while she dealt with overdue bills, her mother’s medical needs, and obnoxious neighbors.

  Taking her in his arms, he clamped his mouth over hers. He kissed her as if she was his whole world and he never intended to let her go again. She allowed the fantasy to sweep her away, for the one man she’d ever loved to be hers.

  With his lips, he caressed her chin and down her neck. Then he shifted his hands to her waist and bent his head, his beard stubble grazing her breasts as he unbuttoned her jeans.

  Her nipples pebbled, and she gasped, shocked by her sensitivity to every brush of skin, no matter how incidental.

  Raising his head, he smiled then dipped down, repeating the contact.

  “Tease.” She grasped his shoulders for balance.

  “Only because you like it.” He eased her jeans down her legs. “Into the tub. I promised you pampering.”

  “I don’t need pampering, just you.”

  “Consider this your lucky night. You get both.” Not flinching at the grime on her extremities, he guided each foot over the edge of the tub.

  She sank into the hot water, her sore, tired body disappearing under the bubbles. Enveloped in the warm, soft cocoon, she groaned and closed her eyes to savor the moment. She never indulged in baths. Practical showers suited her lifestyle and time constraints much better. Any quiet moment she could spare, she elected to spend outside by Sam’s memorial.

  The water sloshed against her chin, and she opened her eyes. At the other end of the tub, Blake submerged to the middle of his torso. For the first time, she appreciated the huge basin. Even with their legs tangled together, she didn’t feel crowded.

  He lifted one of her feet and caressed his fingertips over her scrapes and bruises. Running outside barefoot had been stupid beyond belief, but she’d never been rational when it came to Sam. The loss of the baby had also meant the loss of Blake’s love.

  He circled her ankle and began massaging her calf. She closed her eyes and savored his touch. “You always know how to make me feel special.”

  “Because you are special.” The water sloshed again, and his lips touched hers.

  She didn’t argue, not with his warm mouth covering hers and his hands kneading her overworked muscles. Deep down, common sense overrode his declaration. Women didn’t come more ordinary and mundane than her. Perhaps, that explained why she’d never tried to track him down over the years. He could do better and go further without her.

  But fate had presented her with one night to make memories to last for the rest of her life, to create fantasies, to enjoy special status. Determined to make the most of it, she opened her eyes and sat straighter, placing her palms on his chest. Her parents and her church had forbidden her to touch his naked flesh. She no longer worried about their judgment, but his body still intimidated her.

  He’d grown up and moved on from their awkward, clandestine liaisons, leaving her with no idea of what he liked or how to please him. More than anything, she couldn’t bear to disappoint him.


  He trailed his fingertips along her cheeks then cupped her neck. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what you want anymore.”

  “I want you.”

  “I know.” Even if she had trouble believing it. “But what do you like? How can I please you?”

  “Whatever you do will make me cross-eyed with pleasure, just like it did when we were eighteen.”

  “That easy?”

  “Trust me, when it comes to you, I’m so easy, it’s all I can do not to embarrass myself.”

  A nervous giggle escaped from her lips. Under the water, she caressed his leg above the knee. He groaned and shifted his hips. Assured the same man she’d loved all those years ago still lived inside him, she relaxed and stroked his inner thigh.

  He picked up a bar of soap and rubbed it across her breasts then down her stomach. The soap slipped from his grasp, but he continued to massage her chest.

  Fighting the temptation to succumb to his touch, Luciana grabbed the block as it floated by and skimmed it over his thigh and balls. His cock hardened, and she rewarded him by gliding the slippery bar along his length.

  “I can’t decide whether I like getting clean or dirty with you better,” he murmured.

  “You don’t have to choose. You get both. It’s your lucky night.” Abandoning the soap, she continued to stroke him.

  “If you don’t want me to come in your palm, you have to stop.” He panted against her neck.

  “Where do you want to come?” she challenged.

  He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “In you.”

  She shivered, wanting him to fill her, to jerk and shudder on top of her as his pleasure spilled from him. “Then we need to get out of here.”

  “We’ll never get rinsed off with all the soap and bubbles in this water.”

  “I guess we’ll have to make use of the shower, too.”

  With the water sluicing over them and Blake’s body inches from hers, she reveled in the unobstructed view of his flesh while his fingers and mouth traveled over her skin. Touching him in turn, she filled her head with his short gasps of pleasure and moans of her name.