Lizzy wrenched her arm from the woman’s hold, then stood, placing her hand in his. United, they walked to the center of the dance floor. Holding his breath, he wordlessly took her into his arms. He was home; a calm sea lulled his tumultuous heart. His hand against her bare back reminded him of the intimacy they once shared, and he literally felt his heart swell when she pressed against his chest. Overcome by her nearness, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Everything felt right.
“Only You Can Love Me This Way” brought them back to that cherished place where they had been other people: Two unjaded lovers planning forever in their way, in their time, without interlopers or conflict. Her dreams had been his. His dream had been just to be beside her for the rest of his life.
His heart thundered, and he prayed he wouldn’t mess up turning to the country beat. She’d taught him how to dance, after all, but he let her seductive sway guide him like a rudder. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fresh scent of her silky hair when she rested her head upon his heart. Their clasped hands tucked against their melded bodies, and the song lyrics wrapped a cocoon around them, telling their love story, speaking words he couldn’t form due to the drink and his overwhelming emotion. How many times had he dreamed of this moment and all the things he would say? But tonight, spoken words would only get in the way.
I love you. I’ve always loved you ... but you carelessly wounded me ... Please don’t run from me. What are you doing, Darcy? She will only break your heart again.
She ran her splayed hand down his back, then looked up, searching his eyes—waiting for the stoic man holding her to speak. If only she could see inside his mind. The world had stopped around them and they just danced, gazing at each other,lost in the moment.Those dancing eyes. Those luscious lips.He inched his head closer, needing his kiss to speak volumes. So close. His heart slammed. She closed her eyes and readied her lips in an open-mouthed pucker.
“Get your fuckin’ mouth away from my girlfriend!” Wickham shouted with a violent tug to Lizzy’s arm, wrenching her from his grasp, nearly flinging her across the floor.
And then ... all William’s pent-up rage and emotion exploded from his fist in one absolutely massive punch, sending Wickham to the floor.
The music stopped. People screamed. The press took photographs. Caroline ran into the ballroom, and he yelled, “That’s for my sister. You degenerate piece of shit!”
When he turned to see if Lizzy was okay, she had gone.
Disoriented, William had no concept of how much time had passed between Wickham’s ass-kicking and his waking up on the beach. He couldn’t even recall how he got here.
Rubbing his eyes, he raised his head from the canopy-covered chaise and looked at the shoreline and high tide rolling up to the legs of the lounge. Behind him, the wedding venue had closed for the night, and the beach was desolate. His head throbbed, and he groaned at the pain, but at least the spinning had ended. He hadn’t passed out from drinking since those early days of The Breakup. Taking a guzzle of vodka from the almost empty bottle, his mind flashed to Caroline’s horrified expression following “the Wickham incident.” He felt a little bad about her affront, but hey, he had promised the show of shows and, as far as he remembered, everyone got that—just not the way Caroline envisioned. He was so successful in his performance that she refused to talk to him. At least his horrific behavior got him off from having sex with her.
Following the removal of his tuxedo jacket, tie, and shirt, he scratched his nuts, attempting to figure out how he ended up on the beach sleeping it off. In the morning he’d have to face the fallout for kicking Wickham’s ass in front of the Bingley family’s closest friends. Opening and closing his right hand, he felt pleased with himself that even in a diminished state he landed one to the chin, and it had taken only that one jab to put the dog down. The guy had it coming.
Before he knew what he was about, he stripped his trousers and socks and gazed up at the stars and the near-full moon, all three of them, shimmering on the water. The gentle tide broke into foam at his bare feet, and he breathed in the sea air, attempting to shake off the drink as he trudged to the water. Although he remembered little of what brought him to the beach, he recalled the look on Wickham’s face as he lay there on the dance floor. Laughing out loud, he wished he could remember it all so that he could tell Gigi.
Wading beyond the shallow water, he swam parallel to the shoreline, ignoring the niggling fear that somewhere beneath him Jaws lurked, but it felt refreshing and somewhat sobered him. Firmly planting his feet in the sand ridges to keep from losing his footing and life to the undercurrent, he wiped the water from his face.
A gentle breeze kissed him, and he looked toward the dunes in the distance.
At the shoreline, a luminescent mirage glowed in the moonlight. In captivated fascination he watched as a beautiful woman dropped the billowing robe from her shoulders onto the sand. Her short, white nightgown and long hair fluttered in the midnight breeze. Awestruck, he gaped as she seemed to float toward him, waves cresting around her. Was this real or a hallucination? He shook his head. Was it the moonlight’s spell? Unsure and giving in to her gravitational force, he bridged thedistance between them, his hungry gaze raking over the siren’s body. Mesmerized by how the wet gossamer fabric clung to her curves, his eyes locked on her full breasts, and he took deep breaths of sea air, attempting to gain control of his faculties. Such was his need for control of every situation. But, in truth, he didn’t want to wake up. What he wanted was to take her into his arms.
She said nothing when she reached him hip deep, just stood in front of him, looking up at him with a provocative smile. Resting a delicate hand on his bare chest, she stood on her tiptoes, then softly kissed him. Her touch unsteadied his heart like a tidal pull.
Best. Wet dream. Ever.
Hungrily, he folded her into his embrace, returning her kisses, consuming her breath and spirit and vowing never to wake up. His dick throbbed, and he clutched her backside, pulling her against it.
She tasted like delicious, salty strawberries.
Threading her fingers with his, she pulled away, leading him back to the beach and whatever she had planned for him.
Willingly, he would give her whatever she asked. Tonight, he wasn’t himself. Control was just a word, not a regulator of his will; his desire and dreams were meant to give in to wants. This couldn’t be happening—could it? But was it a dream, though? Perhaps the lingering effects of vodka and his abject longing for the intoxicating woman who owned his heart played tricks on him.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, she flashed a smile that lit up the night. Her entire being outshone the moon.
On the beach, the waves broke at their feet, and she turned to face him with batting long lashes and passion-filled eyes.
“Damn, I wish we could turn back the clock,” he said.
She kissed him, then softly breathed against his mouth, “We can’t, but we can freeze time for a little while. Make love to me, William.”
Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her to a canopy chaise nearest the dune, then laid her down. The alluring image of her resting back on her elbows, looking up at him with a coy smile, burned on his mind. Her wind-blown, tousled locks, sultry pink lips, and flushed cheeks were as arousing as her pebbled nipples through the sheer wet fabric. The straps to her chemise had fallen from her shoulders, baring the tops of her spilling breasts. An enticing droplet of water trickled down her neck, and he licked his lips, thirsting, needing her taste on his tongue. It had been a long time since he’d been in this position, but it felt like yesterday. Everything and nothing had changed. Time had, indeed, reversed because she was here, wanting him, and he was about to screw her senseless, steal her from the jerk, and make her his again. Isn’t that how fantasies and dreams went?
Lizzy reached up and tugged his wet boxers down, dropping them to the sand. To keep from smiling, she bit her lip just as she had in earlier times, and his heart sang because he knew how he made her feel when he made love to her, how good they were together both in and out of the bedroom.
She dropped the chemise to her waist.
Surely, this was a drunken conjuring brought on by the alcohol and seeing her again.
