Page 122 of Wedding Crasher

‘Say what?’

She half laughed and half gasped as he slid a hand up her skirt and stroked the back of her thigh.

‘You know what. Say it, or I’m going to take this ridiculous dress off.’

He played with the zipper at the back of her dress with his free hand.

‘I love you, Gabriel Ryan.’

‘I love you, too, Marla. Very much.’

He kicked up the heat when he kissed her again, and she slid a hand down between them to his crotch.

‘I love you more,’ she said, as he rocked against her fingers with an appreciative groan. His hand slid from her thigh to cup her bottom, and as she arched, pain irritated her hipbone, reminding her of something she still needed to do.

‘Wait.’ She pulled her head back. ‘I nearly forgot to give youyourpresent.’

He grumbled in frustration when she pushed him back a couple of steps, then perked up again when she hitched her skirt right up on one side. She gathered the slinky material up to knicker level, too excited to be bothered that she was flashing her underwear in a hospital side ward. Gabe’s eyes were threatening to fall out of his head as she stood in front of him in her high heels, and Marla thanked the fashion gods that only her black La Perla lace briefs sat perfectly underneath the Biba dress.

‘This is hands down the best present anyone has ever given me in my life.’ He reached out to touch her, but Marla smacked his fingers away.

‘I’m not your present, idiot.’ She hitched the dress higher and revealed the white gauze square taped over her hipbone with surgical tape.

A deep frown of concern furrowed across Gabe’s forehead.

‘Oh God. Are you hurt?’

Marla nodded and tried to keep her face straight. ‘It hurt like hell at the time, yeah.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Take it off and have a look for yourself,’ Marla said.

‘Jesus. Please tell me we’re talking about your knickers.’

She cuffed him on the arm with her free hand and then reached down and peeled the tape back herself. ‘There. Look.’ She beckoned him closer.

Gabe dropped on his haunches until his head was level with her hip, close enough to get a bird’s-eye view of the small lighthouse that had been freshly tattooed there that afternoon. She laid a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and felt gentle laughter ripple through him as he shook his head. They had been on exactly the same page.

‘It reminded me of you,’ she murmured. ‘Like Ivan and Dora. People need someone to share their lives with. I guess I never really realised it was true for me too. We all need rocks to stand our lighthouses on.’

He dipped his dark head to place a kiss on her tender skin with infinite care.

When he straightened, the laughter in his eyes had been replaced with a fierce, burning look of love. She wound her arms around him and breathed him in; delicious and familiar and all hers.

He hitched her up onto the bed and glanced over his shoulder.

‘Do you reckon there’s a lock on that door?’

FIVE YEARS LATER ~ EVERYONE LOVES A GOOD WEDDING …

The sun rose early over Beckleberry on midsummers day, a low-slung rose pink haze streaked with delicate wisps of golden cloud that would melt away as soon as the sun gathered its strength.

Kev the Elvis impersonator carried buckets of creamy roses into the shop for Ruth the florist, taking the chance to smack the rounded cheek of her bottom as she bent double to pick out the most fragrant sweet peas from the delivery that had just arrived. She straightened, swatting affectionately at his hand as he leaned in to place a smacker on her lips. Their romance had taken everyone by surprise, Ruth and Kev most of all. A misplaced New Years eve peck on the cheek that had landed on her lips was all that it had taken for them to see each other in a whole new light, and he’d flourished like one of her freshly watered blooms under her attention. Not that today was their wedding day. All weddings were special of course, but the whole village seemed to be caught up in the romance of today’s ceremony.

Two of their own were coming together at midday in the chapel, and they were all set to make it a day to remember.

‘Baby blue or lavender?’ Jonny stood in his skin tight Calvin Klein budgie-smugglers, his hands on his lean, suntanned hips. Two almost identical suits hung on the doors of the gilt armoire in front of him, both impressive enough to guarantee he’d stand out from the crowd.

---