Free The Night Before Christian by Joy Avery

into his arms. “Watch out.”
    As suspected, the tree
did a nosedive, barely missing her.
    Emory stared up at him
with tender eyes. Her gaze trailed to his mouth, but only lingered there a
short time. “That…was close,” she said in an unsteady tone.
    “Yeah, it was.” Too
close. Kinda like they were now.
    Emory’s hands rested
against his chest, his arms around her waist. If there were ever a time he needed
strength, it was now. Staring into her inquisitive eyes took him back to the first
time they’d met. He recalled the bold statement he’d made to her that day, both
soaking wet under a massive oak tree: “ You’re going to be my wife .” He’d
only known her an hour, but he just knew.
    Christian followed
Emory’s gaze to the mistletoe that dangled above their heads. Who was he to
argue with tradition? “Have you ever been tempted to do something you knew was
wrong? Dead wrong. But the temptation to do it outweighed all of the potential
risks and outcomes.”
    “Yes.” Her eyes slipped
to his mouth again. “Oh,yeah.”
    “What did you do about
it?”
    “Nothing. I knew if the
decision of whether or not to do it tortured me, then it wasn’t something I
should do.”
    Emory closed her eyes
as he dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sometimes…doing
nothing is easier said than done. Sometimes…it’s not even an option.”
    Little mattered in
those seconds. Not their derailed past. Not his impending wedding. And
certainly not his fiancée. With commonsense neglected, Christian lowered his
mouth as close to Emory’s as he could get without actually kissing her. Their
warm breaths swirled, mixed into a sweet elixir that proved powerful enough to paralyze.
    The moment was so
intense, so heavily charged with desire that his head spun. His body reacted in
the manner any man’s body would react when he wanted a woman more than he
wanted his next breath. His hardness strained against his zipper, his heart
punched against his chest.
    No woman had ever made
him want more out of life than the woman before him. She’d made him want more,
made him do more, made him understand what being a man—a good man—was all
about. That particular lesson was the one that gave him the strength to pull
away.
    Christian released her
and stepped away. When Emory’s lids slowly opened, they stared at one another.
Understanding flickered in her eyes, but it didn’t make his decision any
easier. Without a word, he hurried out the front door and down the stairs.
Emory’s footsteps clanked behind him.
    “Christian,” Emory
called from the porch.
    Keep walking .
Unfortunately, the command didn’t make its way to his brain soon enough. He
stopped but couldn’t bring himself to face her.
    “Look at me,” she said.
When he didn’t, she repeated her request, “Look at me, Christian, please.”
    “I can’t,” he tossed
over his shoulder. “I…” He sighed heavily. “… can’t ,” he said in a
mumble.
    “Do you love her?”
    He could hear the
emotion in Emory’s voice and imagined tears streaming down her cheeks. The
image cut him to the core. With balled fists, he said, “Don’t— don’t ask me
that, Emory.”
    “Do. You. Love. Her?
It’s a simple question. Do you—?”
    “ Yes !” He
swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “Yes… I love her.” With that, he made
haste to his vehicle, slid behind the wheel, crank the engine, and was gone.
    The entire drive to his
grandmother’s house, he played one scene over and over in his head: Emory’s
mouth inches from his. He struck the steering wheel and a pain shot up his arm.
But it was nothing compared to the one that’d tore through his heart as he
stood in Ms. Anne’s yard and lied to her daughter about loving another woman.
    Christian sat in the
vehicle a moment to get his thoughts together. He was already an hour late; what
would another ten minutes hurt? He’d already earned himself a lecture on
punctuality. Taking a few deep