Their Wicked Wedding (10 page)

“I shouldn’t have kept anything from you,” I say. “I thought I could handle it on my own, and I didn’t mean—”

She stops my words with a kiss. Only when I stop trying to speak does she pull her lips away.

“Lily—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

“But—”

“No. It’s my turn to apologize.” She pushes herself up on one elbow. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I got angry when you asked for my understanding. I’m sorry for storming off last night.”

I reach up and thread my fingers through her hair. “I can explain—”

“Not now.” She leans forward and brushes her lips across mine in that way she knows drives me insane. “There’s time for that later.” When she kisses me again, I know exactly where this is leading.

I chuckle, and the sound comes from deep in my chest. “Have you given up that madness, then?”

“Madness?” she asks, faux innocence in her eyes.

“The game where you tease me and then tell me we’re not allowed to have sex until after the wedding.”

“I’m not teasing this time. I promise.”

Her tone makes my cock strain against my briefs. Oh, she’s a cruel one. And so intoxicating that I can hardly think straight anymore.

“We should talk,” I tell her, even as I kiss her neck. I still haven’t explained everything to her.

“We have a lifetime to talk,” she returns. “But if you don’t put me out of my misery, I’m not sure I’ll make it that long.”

As much as I like to pride myself on my self-control, I know exactly how she feels. All thought of talking goes out the window. I grab her and crush my mouth against hers.

Suddenly we’re a tangle of limbs. Our bodies twist around each other so quickly that I lose track of what’s hers and what’s mine. I only know that there are too many clothes between us, and I’ll do anything right now to be inside of her.

She appears to be feeling the same way, because suddenly she’s tugging at my shirt, trying to get it up over my head. We wrestle with each other, tearing our clothes off piece by piece and throwing them aside, until finally we’re naked. There is nothing between the two of us.

Her skin smells like heaven. It’s so soft and warm. And there’s already a thin layer of sweat, like dew, across her body. I pin her beneath me. I can hardly contain my need for her, but I don’t want to drive into her just yet. I want to savor this moment. The look in her eyes as she gazes up at me undoes me.

No, there will be no teasing today. No games. Just full, unbridled pleasure. I move my body between her legs, ready to bury myself in her.

And the bedroom door behind us flies open.

“Lily, are you—
Oh God.
”

I freeze at the first sound of my sister’s voice, and beneath me, Lily lets out a small squeak.

“Oh God oh God oh God,” Louisa says. “I’m sorry. Oh God.”

I hear her run out and shut the door again, but I still can’t bring myself to move. All the need, all the urgency I felt a moment ago has suddenly disappeared. In a matter of seconds, my sister—my
sister
—has changed the entire atmosphere of the room.

I practically leap off of Lily. Suddenly it feels uncomfortable to be touching her. Lily remains on the bed, her bare chest rising and falling. Any other time, I’d be thinking about how much I wanted to get my mouth around one of those pink nipples. But right now, I’m not even sure where to look. I settle on the bed post.

What am I supposed to say? How does a man recover from an incident like this?

Lily starts to laugh. It’s a small, embarrassed sound at first, but it quickly grows in volume.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sitting up in the bed. “Lou’s coming with me to the salon today. It must be later than I thought.” She leans over and reaches for her phone on the nightstand, and I’m still not sure whether or not I should be watching the graceful way her body moves. “Shit. It’s already ten-thirty. No wonder she came looking for me.”

She climbs out of bed and is suddenly in front of me. Her cheeks are still flushed and her lips still swollen from our encounter.

“Can we finish this later?” she asks.

“We’re going to have to,” I grumble.

She smiles, than stands on her toes and gives me a quick kiss.

“Your sister will get over it,” she says. “And you will, too. It’s not like she didn’t know we have sex.”

“There’s a big fucking difference between knowing and witnessing it firsthand!”

She seems to find that amusing. “Every sibling relationship has a few awkward moments in it.”

“She and I have had plenty of awkward moments already. We didn’t need another one!”

Lily laughs so hard at this that her cheeks go red and her eyes water, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what’s so damn funny.

CHAPTER NINE

LILY

Lou turns bright red when I finally meet her downstairs.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I knocked, I swear. I thought maybe you’d overslept or something.”

“It’s all right,” I assure her.

“Not if I scarred Calder for life.”

I smile at her astute analysis of her brother. He might not be opposed to feeling me up under a boat with reporters all around or playing a sexy game in the bathroom of a roadside sex shop, but he’s still trying to figure out this whole family thing, and having his sister catch him in the act doesn’t make that any easier.

Lou, at least, for all her blushing, seems to see the humor in it.

“I saved you some bacon, if you’re hungry,” she says with a little laugh. “I imagine you are.”

“I’ll be fine. We’re already late.” I smile and indicate the door, and we head outside together.

Now that Lou knows I’m not angry, and that things aren’t going to be awkward between us, she’s right back to her usual self.

“In my defense,” she says as we walk around the house to where my car is parked, “you
did
tell me that you guys were going to hold off until the wedding night.”

Her bluntness makes me laugh out loud.
Busted.
“Yeah, well I’m not sure the whole ‘holding off’ thing works for us when we’re both so nervous and anxious. I mean—”
How do I explain this?
“You remember what we were talking about before, about Calder acting weird?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“You were right. We both just needed to be more patient and understanding with each other. And I think trying to deny ourselves sex was just adding another layer of tension to the whole situation.” Her slightly embarrassed laugh makes me realize I’m edging close to ‘over-sharing’ territory, so I correct course.

“We had a fight last night,” I say quickly. “But things are better now.”

“Calder can be a real idiot sometimes.”

I smile. “So can I. After I ran off last night I managed to get myself lost in the maze.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I was upset and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I probably spent an hour trying to find my way out.”

“Geez, you must have frozen your butt off.”

I laugh. “It was definitely a bit chilly. And creepy. I never realized how unsettling that place got after dark.”

“Really? I’ve never noticed that.”

Something in her voice makes me look over at her, and I notice her cheeks have bloomed pink. I wonder what
she
’s been doing in the maze.

A sudden thought occurs to me.

“You weren’t out there last night, were you?” I almost add,
with Ward?
to the question, but that’s a little too forward, even for me.

“Oh, God no,” she says. “It was way too cold. And anyway I’m not exactly in the condition to go wandering around outside in the middle of the night.” She pats her belly and looks at me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no way to say this without sounding silly and paranoid.

“It’s nothing,” I say with a laugh, “I was just tired and upset and I convinced myself there was someone else in the maze with me.”

I expect her to see it as some grand joke, but instead she frowns. “What did you hear? And where was this? What part of the maze?”

I didn’t expect this line of questioning, and it takes me a moment to answer.

“I was lost. I have no idea where I was. And I don’t know what I heard—I thought maybe footsteps or something, but I don’t know. I was exhausted. It was mostly just a feeling.” I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of this, and the whole thing feels even sillier now that Lou is actually taking it seriously.

She’s still frowning.

“What is it?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “It’s probably nothing, as you said. We’ve had a few issues with teenagers from Barberville trying to sneak onto the property, but not for a few months. It’s been too cold. But Ward and I were worried this might happen with the wedding.”

I’m not following. “Why would teenagers care about our wedding? Or even know about it?”

She shakes her head. “Not them. But we were worried the press might find out. We were debating whether or not we should re-activate the security system this week.”

I go cold at that thought. Calder and I knew we were taking a risk, getting married here. After all the attention the Cunninghams have had over the past couple of years—and over the course of their entire lives—there was always a chance the press would be interested in our wedding. We’re keeping it relatively small for a reason. But it’s been months since I’ve even seen a reporter or photographer. I assumed they were too busy covering the latest breakup between Hollywood “it” couple Luca Fontaine and Valentina Torres. Or chasing after that up-and-coming starlet who keeps getting drunk and trashing fancy restaurants. Our family is old news.

Or maybe it isn’t.

“Do you really think they’ll try to sneak onto the property?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. But it sounds like we better be careful. I’ll talk to Ward when we get back about getting the cameras hooked up.”

It’s a small reassurance, if her suspicions are true. I suppose there could be worse things they might publish about us than the fact that we got married on the Cunningham estate—after all, I love Calder and want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I don’t care if the world knows it—but this is supposed to be a special, intimate event for us. The idea that someone—or many someones—might try to snap pictures or share details of the event on some gossip site makes my skin crawl. It just feels so… invasive.

Lou must notice me nibbling on my lip.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll just make sure to take precautions.”

I’m not exactly comforted, but I force myself to smile for her sake.

“I probably just have an overactive imagination,” I tell her. “In any case, no stupid reporter is going to stop me from going to the spa today.”

“Good,” she says with a laugh.

Still, as I pull down the drive, I can’t help sneaking nervous glances in my rearview mirror at the grounds behind us.

* * *

I’m feeling much better after a day of pampering.

We’re done at the spa by midafternoon. Though I don’t normally wear much on my nails, I decided to go for a French manicure for the big day. And every inch of me has been waxed and polished and buffed to smooth, glowing perfection. I’m not used to such indulgence—it always seemed like such a useless luxury—and I’m almost ashamed to admit how much I enjoyed it. A girl could get used to this sort of thing.

Lou wants to try a new recipe for dinner, so we stop at a grocery store on the way back to the estate. When we arrive at the house, I try to keep her from carrying any of the bags, but she insists. And since there are too many to manage all by myself, I can’t even snatch them out of her hands when she ignores my protests.

“It’s just a few bags. I think I can manage,” she says. “I’m pregnant, not useless.”

“I really think—”

“Oh, please. You’re as bad as Ward. I thought
you
at least would be on my side.”

I shake my head, knowing my arguments are useless. “And who do you think he’ll blame if he sees that I’ve let you carry something?”

“Honestly? Probably my brother.”

I laugh out loud at that. Sad as it is, she’s probably right.

“As long as they’re civil with each other, I’m happy,” I say. “But they’ll have to work out their man issues sooner or later.”

“Don’t get me started,” says Lou.

We’ve made it inside, and we’re halfway across the foyer when she suddenly winces and stops.

“What is it?” I say.

She opens her mouth to answer, then grimaces again. This time, one of the bags falls from her hand as she grabs her stomach.

“Lou,” I say, now really alarmed. I drop my own bags and reach for her. She’s doubled over—at least as much as she can double over in her condition—and I try to guide her toward the stairs, the closest place where she might sit.

She waves me off. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

To my surprise, she laughs. “You
are
as bad as Ward. It’s just some digestive issues. It’ll pass.”

I stare at her.

Her grin widens. “You know,
gas.
This little guy has been doing all sorts of things to my insides.”

Oh.
I’m both relieved and slightly embarrassed. But Lou is already looking a little better, though I can tell by the way her mouth twists that she’s still physically uncomfortable.

“You have no idea how bad it gets sometimes,” she tells me. “The first time, I was terrified. And Ward really freaked. He rushed me off to the hospital.”

I’m not surprised in the least, not with the way he dotes on her.

“He’s really taken to this whole fatherhood thing, hasn’t he?” I say as I bend down to gather the fallen groceries.

“Oh, he’s been amazing. Though his overprotectiveness gets on my nerves sometimes.” She laughs. “I’ve never seen him so excited about anything before. I never expected that
I
would be the calm, level-headed one during all of this. But he surprised me.” Her eyes dance with humor. “I can’t wait to see how crazy Calder gets when you’re expecting.”

“He’ll be crazy,” I admit, “though probably not in the same way. I’m pretty sure the thought of babies terrifies him right now.”

“It terrifies everyone at the beginning.”

I’m surprised to hear such wisdom out of her—this pregnancy really has brought out the best in her, hasn’t it?—and in many ways, I know she’s right. On the other hand, I’ve seen the awkwardness with which Calder has handled Lou’s pregnancy. But maybe, just maybe, it will be different when it’s me. When it’s
his
child.

I’ve somehow managed to get all of the bags, and I realize too late that it’s only because Lou has grabbed some of them again. I don’t even try to talk her out of it.

“Did I hear you call the baby ‘little guy’?” I say. “I thought you two were waiting to learn the sex.”

“We are. I just have a feeling, that’s all.” Her fingers brush her belly. “Ward does, too. But he thinks it’s a girl. He’s wrong, of course.”

I laugh all the way down to the kitchen. I try to help Lou put everything away, but she shoos me out again, assuring me she has everything under control. She seems really excited about the dinner she’s preparing, and I decide to leave her to her cooking before she starts throwing spoons at me.

It’s still pretty early. I consider heading upstairs to find Calder, but there’s something else I want to do first.

Five minutes later, I’m outside at the maze. My conversation with Lou earlier worried me, but I’m still mostly convinced I was just imagining things last night. And I intend to prove it to myself once and for all. In the light of the afternoon sun, the hedge walls don’t look half as menacing. I square my shoulders and follow the path inside.

This time, I pay attention to where I’m going. I read in a story once that the way to keep yourself from getting lost in a maze is to keep one hand on the wall at all times, so I let the fingers of my left hand skim against the leaves as I walk.

The air is much warmer now than it was last night. I breathe deeply and step slowly, trying to keep myself calm and relaxed. And for the most part, it works. But my ears are over-attuned to every little sound—to every warbling bird and buzzing insect and scurrying chipmunk—and more than once I’m startled by gusts of wind moving through the branches.

After about ten minutes, I find myself at the small courtyard with the fish fountain. I was hoping I’d make my way back here, and I guess my feet remembered where to go even if my mind didn’t.

I sit down on the bench and wait. I don’t know what for, exactly, but it seems like the right thing. When no reporters rush out to greet me, I suddenly find myself talking.

“I know you’re here,” I say to the hedges. “And I think you’re despicable. Shame on you for thinking it’s acceptable to intrude on people’s special, private moments.”

The hedges don’t respond.

“We’re not here to entertain you,” I continue. “This isn’t a soap opera. These are our lives.”

It’s pretty obvious by now that no one is here, that no reporter is lurking just out of sight, but there’s something very cathartic about getting all of my frustrations out in the open.

“But you know what?” I say, rising from the bench. “I don’t care if you’re there. You can’t ruin this week. No matter what you do. I’m marrying Calder this weekend, and it’s going to be the happiest day of my life. Even a sleazeball like you can’t take that away from me. From us.”

The only answer is a couple of chickadees flying out of the branches behind the fountain. But somehow just giving this little speech has lifted a weight from my shoulders. I don’t think I even realized how stressed, how anxious I’ve been.