“Do I look that much older than you?”
“Don’t be cute. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” She was barring his entrance into her house, wearing only a nightshirt that came to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was in curlers and she had a thick mint-green mask on her face.
“That’s silly,” he said, shoving past her. He was carrying a carton of books and a suitcase. “I had to start moving some of this stuff over. I’m going to live here, remember?”
“I don’t know,” she said, still agitated. “I may change my mind.”
He only laughed. “I’ll put these books in the spare bedroom.”
“I’ll wash my face, even if it is five minutes early,” she grumbled, then called to him loudly: “Don’t blame me if my complexion isn’t radiant and blushing like a bride’s. It’ll be your fault.”
“Your skin is glowing all over,” he said awhile later. He had caught up with her in her bathroom after arranging his books in a bookcase they had set up for that purpose earlier in the week. She had rinsed her face and artfully applied her makeup. Now she was unwinding her hair from the curlers.
Catching sight of him in the mirror, she saw that he wasn’t looking at her face, but at the bare skin of her thighs. The heated yearning in his eyes burned into her, fanning the coals of her own desire. “Maybe you should go in the other room and wait for my parents and your brother to arrive.”
“I probably should,” he agreed without conviction, watching each motion of the hairbrush as she dragged it through the thick strands of dark hair. He wasn’t incognizant of the sway of her breasts under the nightshirt each time she moved her raised arms. “On the other hand, they’re not due to arrive until noon. We have awhile.”
She tore her eyes from his. It had been a week since they’d allowed themselves to make love, and if his hunger came anywhere near matching hers, it was gnawing at him like a ravenous monster. “You look nice,” she said lamely, lightly misting control on her hair with a pump spray bottle.
His dark suit, light blue shirt and conservative tie looked incongruously formal in the intimate atmosphere of the bathroom. “Thank you,” he said absently. He was studying her throat, counting each pulse that beat in the seductive hollow at its base. “So do you.”
“I … I’m not dressed yet,” she said breathlessly, turning around to face him.
“That’s what I mean.” His voice was rough with arousal. The pupils of his eyes were dilated so that they almost filled the irises. She saw herself mirrored in them, saw her arms lifting to encircle his neck.
“It’s getting late. I ought to dress.”
His arms went around her and he buried his face in the side of her neck. “Yes. By all means go dress. Don’t let me keep you from doing something you ought to do.”
All the while he was talking, his hands were lifting the hem of the nightshirt. First his fingers, then the palms of his hands glided under the waistband of her panties to cup her hips and draw her against his hardness.
Feverishly her mouth sought his and fused with it. As he pressed she rotated her hips over him, begging him to put an end to the craving that threatened to destroy her.
He lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, setting her down beside the bed. She wrestled with the buckle of his slender lizard belt until it came free, then unzipped his trousers. With trembling hands, she rid herself of the wispy swath of sheer nylon that had done little to deter his caress.
He loosened the knot of his tie and whipped it over his head after dropping his suit coat unceremoniously onto the floor. He stepped out of his pants, eased off his shoes and peeled off his socks, his eyes never leaving her as she lay back on the carpet and unbuttoned the nightshirt. He had only managed to undo half the buttons on his shirt when he collapsed to his knees.
Draping her thighs over his, he worshiped her first with his eyes, then with his touch, then with his lips. All the love he felt for her was made manifest in the sweet supplication of his mouth.
Endearments poured from two sets of lips in harmony, like a rehearsed chant. He knew the moment she could take no more and covered her with his hard chest, burying himself in her receptive body. Each thrust was a love song composed by his body for hers. His passion exploded at the moment she hurtled over the edge of the universe and their cries spiraled above them in a crescendo.
Replete, he slid down her length to rest his head on her breasts. Cradling it, she traced with adoring fingertips the planes of his face.
He raised himself enough to kiss her breast, gently sucking her nipple in a tribute to all that made her a woman. Then he looked up at her. The same lassitude he felt within himself was reflected in her slumbrous eyes, shining with love’s completion.
His fingertip outlined the pouting fullness of her lower lip and touched her dimples. “I don’t know what to expect of the wedding,” he whispered. “But the honeymoon is going to be terrific.”
Shelley clipped on her pearl earrings as she hastened down the hall into the living room. Grant was already there greeting her parents. He shook hands with her father and spoke politely to her mother.
He had been retying his necktie when the doorbell chimed. He’d met her eyes in the mirror, which he was using over her shoulder. “One more kiss and we’d never have made it,” he said teasingly. As he drew on his coat he kissed her fleetingly on the cheek. “You’ve got a smudge of mascara just beneath your left eye.”
“And you’ve got a piece of carpet lint on your right lapel,” she called to him in a stage whisper. He dusted it off as he raced across the bedroom.
She’d repaired the smudge, smoothed her hair, checked to see that she hadn’t forgotten an essential garment in her haste, and then rushed to join them.
There was a flurry of activity and conversation as Shelley was embraced lovingly by both parents, complimented on her oyster silk suit with its teal blouse and presented with an armload of presents sent by home-town folks.
“Bill, that’s my brother, is obviously running late,” Grant said. “He and his wife are driving in from Tulsa.”