‘Rae.’ He was saying her name over and over as he drove harder, faster, face burying into her chest. He squeezed her tits with his free hand. ‘I want to be inside you all the fucking time. I want to make you come like this every single day. I want—’ He grunted, cock pulsating inside her as his release finally followed – ‘I want to go out there and tell everyone that you’re my sweet girl. That I belong to you.’
‘You do,’ she promised, rasping as she rode out every aftershock, every spasm. Sweat rolled down her back, thighs quivering, mind quiet. ‘You’re mine,’ she murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.
His final thrusts were so unrestrained that she had to use the wall to steady herself, spent body collapsing. She didn’t mind; wanted him to do whatever he needed to feel as electric as she did.
‘I’m yours,’ was the last thing he uttered. Breathless, he threw his head back only for his skull to crack against the plaster.
‘Fuck. Who put that wall there?’ He rubbed the sore spot, laughing quietly.
She cradled his head with equal amounts concern and amusement. ‘Are you okay?’
He echoed her earlier words with reverential tenderness: ‘I am now.’
She pushed his hair from his eyes, relishing the wild lust still guttering there. She’d done that to him. She’d made him lose control.
Because he was hers, and she was his. Because, no matter how hard they tried to fight it, they were good together.Righttogether.
She rested her forehead against his and tried to accept that, sooner or later, she would have to stop running from the fact.
31
The party had lulled to muted chatter and low music by the time Rae made it outside. She’d tried to make herself presentable, swapping her comfortable chef’s clothes for the green satin wrap dress she saved for special occasions. Retying her hair and cleaning her smeared makeup was the best she could do.
She let go of Struan’s hand as soon as they entered the tent, where it seemed like both Martha and Harper had been waiting to pounce.
‘There you are!’ the former said, shoving a flute of champagne into Rae’s hands, adorned with a fresh strawberry. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you!’
‘Sorry. I needed to wash the smell of food off me,’ Rae lied – hopefully for the last time. She intended to tell Martha about her and Struan just as soon as the stress of the visit to their mum was over. No more lying, no more sneaking around. Looking at the couples dotted around the tables, she prayed it would turn out okay. She wanted to hold his hand, wanted to tell them just how wonderful it felt to experience the sort of devotion he’d shown her over and over again.
Martha’s suspicious hum made Rae want to shrivel up. Thankfully, Harper chose that moment to yank Rae into an overbearing hug, Fraser lingering behind her, looking for all the world like he’d struck gold. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the gruff lumberjackbeambefore.
‘And the smell of sex?’ Harper finished Rae’s earlier sentence.
Rae’s blazing cheeks were thankfully hidden by Harper’s blond hair. Pulling away, Harper gushed, ‘I can’t thank you enough for the day you’ve given us, Rae. I couldn’t have imagined a wedding like this in my wildest dreams, and the food was to die for. My mum asked if she could hire you as a live-in chef.’
The praise should have left Rae glowing, but it had been so difficult to hold herself together today that the achievement hardly felt worth it.
Something had malfunctioned deep inside her. A cog out of place, a wire short-circuited. This wasn’t who she was. She didn’t cry in cupboards – for over an hour, at least. She didn’t avoid emails. She didn’t have to think so hard about not burning or undercooking her beef.
She used to be good at this. She used tolovethis. Now, she was broken china, handled without care.
What if she could never get her old self back?
Struan must have sensed her crumbling resolve, because his hand hovered on her lower back, offering her the support she desperately needed. Only then did she realise that everybody awaited her response.
‘I’m so glad I could be part of your special day,’ she said tightly, ‘and so glad you enjoyed the food.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be bombarded with booking requests once Harper spreads the word about how great you’ve been,’ Fraser said, squeezing Harper’s hip. ‘Seriously, thank you so much. You’ve made my wife and me extremely happy.’ He nudged Rae. ‘Just think. The next wedding might be our parents’. Shall I start calling you sister-in-law?’
‘Oh, I’d love that! The Docharty-Milligans!’ Harper clapped her hands. ‘I’m already on stage four of my grand matchmaking plan. Give me another few months, and they’ll be engaged.’
Rae laughed quietly, glancing over at the couple they spoke so excitedly about. It was true that Myra and Dad made the perfect match, him leaning into her as she showed him something on her phone. His hand caressing her knee, taking care of her.
Happy, despite the impending surgery, and despite Rae springing all of this stress on him.
It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, seeing him start again, especially not if it meant Rae was surrounded by a family like Fraser’s. She’d never had that growing up. If she’d been the bride today, the wedding party would have been halved.
Her own fault, too. What had all that focus and hard work been for? It had left her broken and alone.
