Chasing Stars (38 page)

Throughout the large room, dozens of candles glimmer. Rose petals lead to a king-size bed that I bought earlier in the week. A large bathtub that Lucas had installed as wedding gift swirls jets of water.

The large wall grabs her attention. I have painted and sketched about a hundred versions of my adoring wife. And my fingers already tingle in anticipation of drawing her in the splendor of her wedding gown. It’s in here that I stowed all the sketches and paintings of her. For this reason, I have never brought her here.

I place her on the floor and kiss her lips. She walks slowly to the wall and examines the images. I hold my breath. Her eyes scan the pictures of her sleeping, smiling, staring out the window, mesmerized by the sunrise, holding Chloe. Her eyes halt at the one where her face, oozing sadness and vulnerability, is beaded by the steam of the shower. I drew it the day I bathed her. Above our bed is the portrait of her sleeping. I was saving it for Christmas, but I figured our wedding night would be just as good.

“Will, there are so many versions of me,” she says quietly.

“Every time I close my eyes, your face overflows in my mind. Drawing you has become an obsession, lately.” I smile nervously. The truth is I became obsessed the very first day I met her.

“I never thought I could love someone the way I love you, Will.”

My hands slide across her waist, drawing her to me. “You are my heart, Portia. I love you immeasurably.” I inhale and clear my throat to recite a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, I love thee to the depth and breadth and height, My soul can reach.”

Portia’s eyes blink repeatedly as tears roll down her heavenly face. My lips capture hers, and I fight the instinct to take her to our bed. I gather a soft blanket and drape it over her shoulders, “Come with me, I want to take you to a special place.”

I hold a lantern, guiding her out the back door. We stroll on a path in the woods I found when I first explored the place. My eyes flicker to her long dress, and I question my bright idea of making her walk through the woods at night dressed in her wedding gown. But Portia grins at me, and I am reminded of her super cool nature.

“Jeez, I hope I don’t ruin the dress,” she says, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I got it, baby.” I gather the hem and lift it. We walk into a small meadow that leads to a babbling brook. I release the dress, put my hand on the small of her back, and guide her through a clear path of small lanterns. We stroll under a round, yellow moon that appears incredibly close to earth tonight. By the stream, a bowl fire emanates warmth to where a makeshift bed, embellished with dozens of fluffy pillows and warm blankets, awaits for us.

“Whoa—” Portia brings her hand to her mouth. I smile. She is too easily impressed for her own good.

“How…when…who got this ready?” Her eyes flicker from the bed to me.

“I hired someone to wait here and prepare everything when Lucas called him. He timed it to perfection.”

“This is where we will build our home.” I nod to the open field by the creek.

The enthralling crackle of the fire and the gentle burble of the stream provide an intimate symphony.

“Will, you created our private paradise.”

We stop by the bed and I put the lantern down. I turn to face Portia. The fire colors the air gold. The primal desire stirring inside me since the day she knocked on my front door, rushes through me. I inhale deeply to calm my twisted nerves. I gently remove the blanket from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Damn, my fingers are trembling. And I am so incredibly aroused it hurts.

I mentally say a little grace, thanking God for the warm weather. I remove the clip from her hair, and it falls around her shoulders. My fingers tug a curl and I smell it, relishing the familiar gardenia fragrance I have come to love. With feather light touch, my fingers skim over her flawless face. My lips trail soft kisses across her face, her neck, and her naked shoulders. She shivers.

“Are you cold, baby?” She bites her lower lip, and nods her head. “You are so beautiful,” I moan. “I dreamed of this night, since the first day I laid my eyes on you,” I whisper so low I wonder if she hears me.

Slowly, I unfasten her dress, allowing it to slide down her curves and pool around her feet. White lacy and silk undergarments cover the inches of skin I have coveted all this time. An involuntary moan escapes my lips, and I gather all my strength to avoid the caveman in me from rising. I have a strong urge to toss Portia onto the bed and claim her.

I will my erratic breathing to calm. I want to relish every second and explore every curve. I want to burn in my memory her captivating beauty, delight in the soft texture of her skin, and become intoxicated by her tempting scent.

Staring at me without blinking, she slides her hands inside my tuxedo and slowly slips it off. She discards the jacket and her trembling fingers reach for my shirt’s buttons. An agonizingly slow ritual, she unfastens each button and removes my shirt, piling it on top of the jacket. Portia pauses, her tongue skims over her lips as she glances at my pants. She spreads her palms low on my abdomen and gives me a long, warm caress. I gasp. A loud groan escapes my throat. She smiles.

Her fingers find my belt. I fix my eyes on her eyes. The simple act of her unbuttoning my pants becomes endless torture. Again, I use all my self-control to resist the urge to devour her hastily.

We are both shaking. Our bodies shimmer under the moonlight. Though it is warmer than usual, a cold breeze swivels around us. I tug over layers of blankets and usher her under the covers and climb in after her. She nuzzles my chest, huddling instinctively closer to me.

“Remember the first day we met?” I embrace her slender figure.

“How can I not?” There is a trace of humor in her voice as her fingers stroke my chest.

“Pick a star.” I ask, remembering the heartbreaking story of her lonely childhood.

“See the Great Square of Pegasus?” She points to the constellation. “The star on top.” She smiles under the starry night. “Can we call it Aurora?”

“Uh-hmm,” I whisper and the intimacy of the moment envelops our bodies. The outside world disappears and there is just us, tucked away in our secret place.

“Portia, will you go to Aurora with me?” I breathe into her hair.

“Yeah, Will. And what should we do when we get there?” she asks.

“We will make love until Aurora turns into a shooting star.”

“Oh, Will, let’s set Aurora on fire,” she utters.

My hand captures her face, and I drink in the intensity of her stare. “I love you.” My lips meet hers. Hungrily, I taste of her exotic flavor. I thrust my tongue inside her parted lips exploring every inch of her mouth, inviting her to an erotic dance.

My fingers, itching to touch every part of her, run the length of her hair. My tongue strokes hers, savoring her taste. After kissing her deeply, my lips skim along her neck, sucking her soft skin. Sensing her pulse as it vibrates under the stroke of my tongue, I moan. I reach under her, and unhook her bra.

I pull back, admiring the fullness of her breasts. I swallow hard. The pressing arousal inside my boxers urges me to speed up the process. I shove that need away. With lingering adoration, my lips close around an erect nipple, sucking and biting it lightly. My tongue travels from one breast to the other. I suck her skin harder than I should. She gasps, and her fingers tug my hair and pull me closer. I am sure it will leave a love mark, but I can’t help myself.

Slowly, my lips continue their pilgrimage of her body. I kiss her abdomen, and my tongue swirls around her navel. I bite below her hipbone. With my unrestrained need, I suck there and mark her flawless skin. I lick the inch of skin I just bruised, and Portia writhes under my lashing tongue. I pull back and my anxious fingers tear at the white lace that covers her body. She moans. My heart accelerates to a record high. She is so beautiful.

Reverently, I lower my face to the triangle I’ve craved all this time. My nose gently skims the soft hair, barely touching it. She squirms. I bury my nose in the core of her body, and inhale her scent. “Damn, Portia, you smell so good.” My tongue slowly searches for the delicate skin under the hair. Hungry for more of her, I stroke my tongue on her sensitive skin while I gently hold her twisting hips.

“Will, please,” she cries.

But I can’t let go of her. Her taste is addictive. Lost in a fierce sensation of passion and lust and with an insatiable craving for more of her taste, my tongue strokes and sucks her. With my lips closed around her core, I feel her body quivering. “Will,” she moans as orgasmic waves vibrate through her body.

She reaches down and desperately grabs my shoulders, pulling me back to her. With a swift movement, she removes my boxers. Damn, she moves fast. She unleashes a sweet pain and a desperate desire. Noticing my poor attempt to contain myself, she sinks her nails in my back and her teeth graze over the hypersensitive skin of my chest. She groans and eagerly bites the tenses muscles of one of my shoulders, leaving an explosive trail of intoxicating need and urgent want.

“Please, Will, I need you inside me,” she pleads. Her hands grab my hips and pull me to her.

Surrounded by his love, my tongue strokes his skin, entranced by his taste. I arch my hips against his erection. Will’s body shudders. I savor the effect I have on him. I trail kisses on his skin, enjoying the firm texture of his chiseled chest and absorbing the warmth of his feverish skin. I am desperate to feel him buried inside me. A flame ignites inside and only Will can satisfy the deep-seated desire that is exploding from my core.

Will hovers on top of me, propping his weight on his arms. He kisses me deeply. When I taste myself on his lips, my core muscles tighten. I desperately want to claim more of him. I gasp and cradle him inside my hips, welcoming Will to possess me and to take a hold of what now belongs to him.

Will moves unhurriedly. Gently he positions himself to make me his. My muscles clench with the sweet expectation of him moving inside me. I moan. Will’s lips capture the desperate sound escaping my lips. He pulls back and whispers adoringly, “I love you so much, baby.”

“Oh, Will. I love you too, more than you will ever know.”

Slowly, almost reverently, he slides inside me, his eyes never breaking from mine. His stare is primitive. The moment he penetrates me—filling me—a sense of wholeness sweeps through my body, and pushes out the void that has haunted me throughout life.

The universe, earth, Aurora, the moon, and the infinite multitude of stars fade, clash, and meld. In this sacred moment, the earth’s axle aligns itself into perfection and completeness.

I gaze up at Will’s molten green eyes and am mesmerized by their intensity as he drives deeper and deeper inside me. His body moves in a cadence of slow and fast, gentle and hard. He is possessive and demanding. He consumes me—body, mind, and soul.

Will and I are enclosed on our own symphony of lovemaking. Just the two of us acting out a ritual as old as time. Then I fall and Will follows, catching me along the way and wrapping me safely in the warmth of his extraordinary love.