When She Falls

by Jessie Clever

  Cam smiled in response, unable to help himself, and laid a soft hand on Lydia’s shoulder again. She turned her head, a knowing smile on her lips.

  The orange passed yet again from Rebecca to Eric, and then it was up to Lydia. She stepped forward, her diminutive size apparent against Eric’s much larger frame. While it had been easy for a taller person to get the orange from a much shorter one, it was proving awkward in reverse. Eric took Lydia’s shoulders in his hands and bent her slightly backwards to expose her neck. He positioned his head so the orange pressed against Lydia’s neck, so Lydia could close the angle of her head, pinching the orange between her chin and chest. But the angle was slightly off and the orange started to roll. Eric buried his face in Lydia’s bosom to stop the orange from careening off, and Tabitha gave a call of triumph.

  “That’s it, Eric boy!”

  Stacy’s giggle shrilled over the crowd as Eric worked the orange back up to Lydia’s neck, wedging it solidly beneath her chin.

  Lydia turned to Cam.

  Her chin smushed around her face as she held the orange against her chest, and she looked rather like a bulldog, face scrunched in on itself.

  He laughed, and taking her shoulders into his arms, he bent her completely over. She let out a soft, “Oh!” as he did it, but he cradled her safely against one arm as he danced his free hand up her flat stomach, along the line of her tight wrap dress, skimmed the fine bones of her collar.

  The crowd lost it. Cat calls rang through the air. Shouts of encouragement reached his ears, and he crept his hand closer until at the last moment he swung his hand away, burying it in her hair and plunging downward for a soul shattering kiss.

  The band stopped playing. The guests had reached a decibel level never seen before as Cam thoroughly kissed his wife. But it wasn’t until Lydia reached down to cup his butt that Rebecca Hatfield’s voice could be heard through the din.

  “You’ve got him, girl!”

  The call, so unlike anything that had come from the young woman before, startled them both into nearly dropping the pose. But at the last moment, Cam pinched his neck around the orange and pulled both of them up, throwing his hands in the air in triumph as the orange rested under his neck.

  The band struck up a song as the crowd roared. Evelyn Hatfield burst through the throng, throwing her arms around Cam’s middle, squishing his stomach in a tiny woman’s hug. Lydia was next, and she took the hug with a smile on her face as she looked over the tiny woman’s head at him.

  Cam froze, watching her eyes, watching the play of her lips. It was an expression he had never seen before. It was filled with soothing calm, unconditional happiness, and something foreign. Something strange.

  Hope.

  Yeah, there was definitely hope in her eyes.

  Lydia was nearly out of breath by the time Evelyn Hatfield released her and cupped Lydia’s cheeks in her hands.

  “You’re a beautiful woman with a beautiful marriage, shortcake,” she said, rattling Lydia’s head between her hands. “I’d be so lucky to have you outfit my daughter’s wedding.”

  Lydia’s heart slowed, the beating acquiring a smooth cadence.

  “You would?” Lydia asked, afraid to ask anything more.

  But Evelyn Hatfield only smiled, shaking her head with its cap of bristly gray hair.

  “I’ll just need to convince my daughter of the same,” the older woman said before releasing her.

  Lydia’s heart spent a moment deciding whether or not it was worth continuing before Cam slipped an arm about her waist.

  “Great party, my lovely.” He bowed his head toward Evelyn.

  The little woman squealed her delight before patting Cam playfully on the arm.

  “You’ve made it a great party,” she cooed at them. “Mr. and Mrs. Cameron McCray!”

  Lydia forced herself to smile, forced herself to endure the lie, let the truth slide off of her into a puddle on the ground. She nestled closer to Cam, letting his warmth make her feel even a small bit better. Evelyn gave a wave and disappeared off into the crowd of happy party guests.

  Lydia pushed away from Cam but held onto the front of his obnoxious Hawaiian shirt to get his attention.

  “I just need a little fresh air,” she whispered to him as he bent his head to her. “That was a little much.”

  Cam frowned at her. “Lydia Baxter never needs fresh air,” he murmured, an eyebrow cocked.

  Lydia returned his frown. “Just give me a fucking second,” she muttered.

  Cam released her. “Ah, there it is,” he said. “Just making sure you were all right.”

  She turned, making her way to the edge of the group on the dance floor, hoping she could slip out onto the veranda and away from the crowd. Just for a minute. She just needed to get away from all of this for a minute. This lie she was trying to force into reality. That she was trying to get everyone to accept so she could what? Prove her father wrong. She stumbled along the rail of the veranda. It seemed so childish suddenly. Her entire goal of proving her father wrong just seemed inconsequential. Pointless. Absurd.

  Baxter’s of Newbury could close tomorrow, and she wouldn’t care. She’d start a new business, do something else, maybe sell real estate. Who cared?

  Evelyn Hatfield’s words rang in her ear, an alarm clock without a snooze button, no way for her to shut them off. It wasn’t a beautiful marriage. It wasn’t even a real marriage.

  “Lydia?”

  Lydia’s hand nearly snapped the veranda railing in two as she turned toward Rebecca Hatfield.

  Rebecca smiled softly, her expression encouraging. “I was just—” The young woman fidgeted with her hands. “It’s just I was wondering,” she went on, gesturing back toward the party with a shaking hand. She was shaking? “You and Mr. McCray. You’re both so…”

  Lydia couldn’t wait for the word Rebecca would choose to fill that space.

  “You’re so different from one another,” she said in a rush, stepping closer to Lydia. “How do you ever, I mean, how did you find,” she stopped, her eyes darting from side to side as if searching for what she meant to say while Lydia’s stomach pretended to be a gold medal gymnast, somersaulting and flipping and flying everywhere.

  “Perfection,” Rebecca finally said, and Lydia had completely lost the strain of the conversation.

  “I’m sorry?” she said stupidly.

  Rebecca looked down, shaking her head. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but you and Cam always seem to fit so well together, it seems so perfect, and easy and right.”

  Rebecca grabbed her then, her hands coming to her upper arms, her grip tight, pleading.

  “Is it right, Lydia?” she asked, her tone bordering on begging. “Your marriage to Cam. Your partnership with this man who is so different from you. Is it right?”

  Lydia’s stomach stopped dead, falling to her toes in a defeated lump. She stared into Rebecca’s eyes, saw the hope shimmering there, the wanting, the yearning for Lydia to reassure her. Rebecca wasn’t asking about Lydia’s marriage to Cam. Rebecca was asking about marriage in general. Marriage to someone who wasn’t quite perfect, but with whom, one had decided to spend the rest of one’s life.

  It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t perfect, and it damn sure wasn’t right. But Lydia had created a lie so believable, Rebecca thought all those things to be true. Lydia’s chest ached with the lie, ached with the evidence of what her charade had done, clear and obvious standing before her in the hope shining in Rebecca Hatfield’s eyes.

  Lydia couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take what she saw there. She opened her mouth to refute it, to tell Rebecca the truth when her father’s face, her father’s voice sprang out of the depths, and she closed her mouth, blinked.

  When she opened her mouth again, she did the only thing she could do.

  She lied.

  “It is right, Rebecca,” she said. “And it’s perfect.”

  Rebecca smiled once and walked away.

  The door clicked shut on their room
shortly after two in the morning, and Cam realized he was no young buck any longer. He ached, he was tired, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and wish he’d never gone to a luau in the first place.

  But when he went for his night bag, Lydia grabbed him, spinning him around, and coming up on her toes to seal her lips to his. The kiss was molten heat, searing him as he tried to step away from her, gain control of the situation. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she swung up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He had to catch her thighs in his hands to keep her from falling, but even then, he was too tired to hold her.

  They collapsed on the bed, bouncing with the force of the fall. His shirt ripped as Lydia grabbed it, pulling it apart and off his shoulders. She pushed against him, and he let her roll him over, straddling him as her strapless dress fell, loosening at the bodice and slipping down her slim torso, revealing the lace of her black bra. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and unclip the bra, let her full breasts spill out, but there was something so erotic about her sitting astride him, the bra and dissolved dress fighting for his attention.

  She worked the buckle of his pants loose, shoved them down his legs, until she could take his hardened erection in her hand. She pumped him, stroking him harder and harder, until he thought he would explode in her hand.

  “Lydia,” he moaned, reaching for her, but she pushed him back with a hand to his chest.

  She moved, settling herself on him, taking him into her heat. He sprang up with the jolt of it, wrapping his arms around her as she moved on top of him.

  “Lydia.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, nipping at her ear.

  She moaned, her rhythm picking up, moving faster against him. God, he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

  “Cam, I need you.” She buried her face in his neck as her hair came undone, spilling down her back.

  He took a fistful in his hand, ratcheted her head back to lick his way down her neck to bite kisses along her collarbone. She lost her rhythm, coming down once, fast and hard. He took advantage of her confusion to flip them over, pinning her to the bed as he took control.

  “Cam,” she said, her tone protesting as she raised her hips to meet his.

  He drove into her as he reached around to grip her buttocks, pulling herself up, fully against him. Her head flung back against the pillows, her long, brown hair rioted across the bed pane, her mouth open on a silent scream. Only then did he reach up and using a single finger, pulled at her black bra, bringing the garment down to her torso until her nipples sprang free, dark, hardened points. He waited, drinking in the sight of her spread out before him.

  “Cam, please,” Lydia groaned, arching her back and raising her breasts to him as if offering him a taste.

  He didn’t hesitate, bending to bring one hardened point into his mouth, suckling until she bucked under him, her fingers diving into his hair.

  “Cam,” she whispered, her fingers clenching his head to her.

  Her hips pistoned sporadically against his, driving her into him. He moaned against her breast, licked at the nipple, before moving to the other one. He teased the point with his tongue, lavished it with kisses, before drawing it into his mouth.

  “Shit, Cam, I’m going to come,” she said against his neck.

  He grabbed her hips, holding her still.

  “Cam,” she cried, her head falling backwards, her fingers tearing at his shoulders. “Cam, I need—”

  “I know what ye need,” he said against her breast. “I’m not ready to give it to ye.”

  She squirmed against him.

  “Cam, please,” she begged, her hips coming up off the bed as far as he would allow them.

  He felt himself harden even more at her struggle, felt her wet heat tighten around him. He let her hips go. She rocketed off the bed, slamming into him with enough force to spark his climax. He came hard, driving into her as she exploded around him. He crumpled against her as the strength left his body, slid to the bed and pulled her against him, holding her in his arms as his heart slowed to a normal beat.

  “Shit, Cam,” she whispered beside him, and he smiled against her temple.

  “You’re welcome,” he said as he drifted off to sleep.

  Fifteen

  Lydia woke to a dull ache relentlessly pounding along her shoulder and into her neck. She wiggled, adjusting her head on the pillow when a heavy arm pulled her back to her original position. Blinking her eyes open, she saw sunlight filling the room, rays of light highlighting the dust motes as they floated through the air like tiny UFOs.

  Cam’s leg was thrown over her, pressing her into the mattress while his arm held her pinned against his warm, firm body. She closed her eyes, soaking in the feel of him, the pain in her shoulder long forgotten as she remembered what it was like to wake up in a man’s arms. She would be the first to say she was an independent, modern woman, and she didn’t need a man. But damn did she want one.

  She nuzzled deeper into him, feeling his warmth cocoon her until she wiggled enough that his hard erection came up against her backside. She paused, letting the sensation fill her. Her husband was aroused, and she was in his arms. Lydia blinked a few more times, reaching up to push the hair from her face. She was definitely naked. Her shoulder was going to feel like death if she tried to move.

  And she was horny as hell.

  It was time for Cam to wake up.

  She burrowed deeper into him, making sure to wiggle her butt for emphasis. Cam made a soft snorting sound behind her, much like he’d been startled in his sleep. His hand clutched her, wrapping around her abdomen and pulling her closer still. His erection cradled against her buttocks, his other parts began to move. First his leg slipping between hers, propping up her upper leg. His hand sliding upward, just not quite cupping her breast. She shifted, willing his hand to touch her where she wanted, but his hand drifted away.

  She moaned at the loss, softly, so softly she thought he wouldn’t hear, but then he was nuzzling her neck, pushing away the hair that streamed along her shoulder until a hot kiss pressed along the sensitive skin at the back of her ear. She moaned louder now, and Cam chuckled softly.

  “Good morning, Mrs. McCray,” he murmured in her ear before he nipped her ear lobe.

  The hand she had wanted to cup her breast slid lower, cupping her womanhood instead, a single finger playing with the folds.

  “Good morning, you asshole,” she murmured back, wrenching her hips back into his erection, rubbing against him until he moaned in her ear.

  “Is that how it’s going to be?” The single finger that had been playing with her folds dipped, striking heat and wetness, making her jerk against the intrusion before his now wet finger moved upward, stroking her sensitive nub.

  Her breath caught at the sensation, and she reached for his hand, clutching it against her, rubbing herself against it.

  “Easy, lassie.” Cam laughed again in her ear.

  Pushing back the sheet that covered her, Lydia tilted just enough so Cam could see her hand, and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she slid that hand up her tight stomach and along her ribs before tracing the outline of her breast. Skimming her fingers over the round, milky globe before teasing her nipple. She had meant to torment Cam, but her own touch sparked a foreign, delightful arousal in her, and she continued to tease first one nipple and then the other, twisting the peak between her fingers.

  Cam’s own traitorous fingers continued to rub her, slipping into her before pulling out and rubbing against her clit. The dual torments kept her on the edge, poised just before the fall but yet not enough.

  Cam gave a groan, loud and full, before slipping into her from behind, his steely erection coming into her heat with ease, sliding to her very core. He was thick and long, and she pushed against him, wanting him deep inside of her. She reached behind her, pulling him to her, and he began to move, sliding in and out with a slow, sensual rhythm.

  “Cam,” she whispered, unable to sa
y anything else as the energy in her twisted to a single point. “Cam,” she said one more time.

  Cam shifted, coming up on his elbow and leaning over her, the angle giving him more leverage as he drove into her. She buried her face in the pillow as a cry sprang to her lips, and then he was moving. Slamming into her with enough force to shake the bed, but God, she wanted it. Wanted him just like this, forcing her to feel him, forcing her to feel everything.

  When her climax came she had nothing left to give, and her mouth opened on a silent scream as Cam collapsed on her, his own body spent. He lay across her back, leaning just enough to the side that he didn’t squish her. He simply cradled her while their hearts returned to a normal beat.

  Lydia smiled into the pillow, her body glowing with their lovemaking.

  The tranquility didn’t last long, though, as her brain finally registered where she was and what was happening.

  Or rather what had already happened.

  Her eyes flew open, her body tensing at the memory of the events from the day before.

  “Whoa, lassie,” Cam muttered from behind her. “Something just got your knickers in a twist. Thinking of work already?”

  She wasn’t listening to him. She was thinking of Rebecca Hatfield’s face as Lydia had lied to her. Blatantly and baldly lied to her about a major decision in her life. Lied to get a contract, a deal that would finally get the best of Edward Baxter.

  Lydia shoved Cam off of her, jumping off the bed and running for the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and turned on the water faucet, water spraying into the sink, the sound covering her labored breathing.

  Jesus Shitting Christ, how could she have let this happen?

  A soft knock at the door startled her into straightening away from it.

  “Lydia, I’m just a bit worried your current state of panic has something to do with me making love to you like a randy teenager.”

  “I’m fine, Cam,” she snapped back before he said anything more.

  She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Dissheveled, rumpled, and completely and thoroughly loved. Except for the starkly terrified look in her eyes, one would have said she looked satisfied.