One More Kiss (12 page)

There were gasps from the congregation, then wild applause as he left the altar and headed down the red-carpeted aisle toward the back. Betty was still sitting in her same spot, her eyes filled with something like shock and wonder. Her knuckles were bright white as she clutched the pew in front of her. Next to her, Jessie was grinning wide enough to make his face hurt just looking at her.

Betty’s eyes tracked his every movement as he approached. Finally, when he was right on top of her, he unpeeled her hands from the pew and got down on one knee. That’s when he saw a small smile twist the edge of her mouth. His heart surged. She might be freaked out,
but
she was happy
.

“Betty Lindholm, I don’t have a ring. But I swear I’ll get one. And I swear you’ll never have to cut through any more walls to get to my heart. Ever. It’s yours, if you’ll have it. And if you’ll let me have your heart, I’ll cherish it always. I know this is right. In my bones, I know it’s supposed to be us, together. And I think you know it, too. You don’t have to answer now, in front of all these folks, but just know that I’m asking. With my whole heart, I’m asking if you’ll marry me.”

His blood pounded. His suit was soaked with sweat. His hand was probably clutching Betty’s too tightly. He knew he must look like a fool. She would never say yes. But that’s okay—because she should know she was loved and cherished and desired. That was enough.

He wondered if she’d pull away and tell him gently that she’d think about it.

He thought she might stand and run for the back door.

But Betty Lindholm—his strong, wonderful Betty—did neither of those things. Instead, she stood to her feet and pulled him up with her.

“If I’d known you were going to do this today, I’d have worn lipstick,” she said. The whole congregation burst into laughter, and she grinned up at him. His muscles ached with affection. He touched the soft skin of her face, running a finger down one delicate cheek.

“I suspect,” she said, taking a shaky breath, “that proposals are like Lumberjack Grocery produce. When it’s good, you know. And I think I know. So yes, Pastor Randall Sondheim, I’ll marry you.”

The words swept over him in a sea of emotion so deep and powerful that all he could do was pull Betty to him and grip her tight. “I love you,” he breathed into her hair as the congregation erupted around them in cheers and applause and fresh tears.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back, “even though you acted like an idiot.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I sort of did, too,” she said, pulling back so they could look at each other fully. Her eyes danced across his face. “I didn’t want to give you the time you might have needed. I was being selfish.”

“We both made mistakes.”

“But now we’re getting married apparently.”

“Betty, I’m going to kiss you now.”

“We’re in church, Pastor, so let me say a hearty amen to that.”

He tilted her head and brought their lips together, distantly aware that the organ was playing and someone was ringing the church bells. The cheering in the sanctuary began anew, all while his heart felt packed with enough emotion to make his ribs stretch. He kissed Betty more deeply and welcomed it all—ready to feel everything he could with the woman he loved.

Chapter Eight

B
etty rode home in the passenger seat of Randall’s car, dazed and overwhelmed. She’d been hugged, congratulated, kissed, and toasted for the past hour. Her skin tingled and her brain buzzed. She folded her hands together in her lap, trying to gather her thoughts, part of her wondering if this had all been a dream. Had Randall really asked her to marry him in front of the entire congregation, and had she really, actually said yes?

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Joy bubbled inside her. Happiness coursed through her. That was evidence enough, she thought, of what had just transpired. Randall Sondheim loved her, and she loved him back. They were going to walk down the aisle together and become man and wife.

Nevertheless, she was grateful when he reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. Some could say that she hardly knew this man, but the truth was she knew him more deeply and passionately than she had known anyone, ever. She stared at his muscular forearms, bared to the world now, and the soft smattering of hairs over the top of the tattoos. His profile was so handsome as he drove—strong jaw, high cheekbones. An electric current hummed inside her. She recalled his touch when they were in Knots and Bolts and shivered.

“Betty,” he said, perhaps feeling it, too, “I was wondering if you might want to come to my house instead. There’s so much to talk about. There’s so much to…do.” His steady gray eyes found hers, and the hunger there was clear. Her nerves sparked. She licked her lips.

“Yes. I would like that very much,” she said, gripping his hand more tightly.

Minutes later, they were through his front door and she was taking in the clean lines of his home—the bare wooden floors, the dark, angled furniture, the afternoon light streaming in from behind enormous windows. And a smell that was so Randall—like leather and paper and sandalwood. Books were everywhere in neat piles and arranged across bookcases. She touched the spine of one.
Great Expectations.

“So you read things besides the Good Book,” she said, smiling. She loved this discovery of him and relished the fact that there was a lifetime of discovery ahead for them both.

“I read like an addict,” he said, standing next to her at the bookshelf. “You?”

“Mysteries, mostly. On TV, I watch that show,
CSI
. All the versions. All the reruns. Do you think that’s stupid?”

He turned her so she was facing him. “Nothing about you is stupid,” he said, cupping her face in his large hands. His gray eyes were alive with emotion, his dark hair shining like a crow’s wings in the warm light. He was storming with strength and feeling. It radiated off him and jolted through her.

“Everything about you is incredible,” he said, tilting his head toward hers, “including the fact that you’re standing here.”

“I deserve a prize, I think,” she said, smiling up at him.

“How about a ring?” he asked, pulling her even closer. She felt her lips part, wanting his kiss. He obliged, bringing his mouth to hers in a shower of sparks that turned the light around them hot and white.

“Randall,” she breathed. He deepened the kiss in response, his tongue entering her, his arms wrapping around her. She pressed against him and he groaned deep in his throat. His hardness, his desire for her, was right there.

“I wanted you before,” he said, breaking the kiss to gaze at her, “but deep down I also think I knew I loved you. If you feel I took advantage of you in your store that last time, please just know that—”

She dropped her hand and grabbed his cock. “Take advantage of me, Randall,” she said, feeling his penis jump under her fingertips. He threw his head back. “I knew what I was doing then. I know what I’m doing now. Being here, being with you…” She trailed off, trying to put a net around her thoughts and bring them toward the shore of her mind. She felt so much for him, the emotions nearly blocked out the words. “I understand what this is.”

“It’s right and true,” he said, placing a hand on her waist and running it along her ribs. “I knew it then. I wouldn’t have fooled around that day and walked away.”

“I know,” she agreed, untucking his shirt from his pants and reaching for his belt. “This is forever. It was, even then.”

He grabbed her hand. “Come with me,” he said, and pulled her down a hallway painted a rich cream color. Along the wall were a series of antique maps showing jagged continents and sea monsters arcing through the water near listing ships. She stopped to take them in.

“Exploration,” Randall said, gesturing at the artwork. “Of land, of sea. It’s a handful of souls being bold when most people thought you could fall off the edge of the earth.”

She gazed at the rich colors, dazzled and entranced. At least until Randall put a warm hand on her neck. He traced the outline of her clavicles. “I intend to explore you,” he said, his eyes flashing with desire. “A new land that must be conquered.”

“Lucky for you the natives are a willing people,” she said.

He tugged her the rest of the way down the hallway until she was in his bedroom. His bed was simple but tasteful—a sturdy oak frame with a bright white coverlet and a handful of downy pillows that kept it all from being too stern. On the bedside table was another neat stack of books. On the walls hung more maps, more pictures of ships and ports.

“This is a theme with you, I see,” she said, inclining her head toward the art.

“More exploration,” he growled, “just wait and see.”

And then his hands were on her all over again and he was pulling her onto the bed, the smell of soap and sandalwood filling her nose and mind. He ground his hard, muscled body against her and she pressed back, wanting to give as much as he would give her. He made a deep, animalistic sound that took her breath away. Hot desire rolled through her, carried on a wave of deep joy that this man was hers. He loved her. He’d asked for her hand in front of half the town and she’d said yes.

How was it even possible? Oh, but then the feeling of his skin on hers once they’d peeled their clothes off was all too real. She might never truly understand the miracle of what had happened between them, but she’d live the rest of her days being grateful for it.

“Beautiful Betty,” he said, gazing at her spread before him, naked, on the stark white bed. She traced his tattoos, loving how free she felt, loving how her self-consciousness had melted away, loving this man in front of her. She would never be Bucky Lindholm again, would never have to worry that the object of her interest would walk away.

Those days were gone. Joy filled her at the very notion.

She smiled as she stared at Randall’s broad chest covered in downy, dark hair. She traced a line between his pecs, over his hard, rippled stomach, and down to his penis. He hissed in breath as she touched the tip, taking in the thick length of it.

“More women than Valerie Lofgren might have been vying for your attention if they knew
this
was behind the pulpit,” she said playfully.

“Valerie and I are going to be friends. That’s all,” he said, pushing her back on the bed and settling between her legs. “She knows that. She also knows she owes you an apology.”

“For what?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, pressing the tip of his shaft against her, but not entering. Not yet. She shivered with anticipation. “I don’t want to talk about her right now.”

“What do you want to talk about?” she murmured, nearly delirious with the way Randall was suddenly cupping her breasts, tracing one nipple with his tongue.

“How gorgeous you are,” he said into her skin, working his way from her breasts, down her belly, to her thighs. She hitched in breath as he kissed the skin of her inner leg. “I’ve wanted to taste you since that day in Knots and Bolts. No, since before that day. I’ve wanted you for months.”

His mouth was suddenly on her center, kissing her delicately and then not so delicately. She arched her back and plunged her hands into his dark hair.

As he licked and nipped, the ropes around her emotions were cut free. No longer bound, love and affection stampeded their way through her heart, her veins, her marrow—until the power of her emotion met the power of his touch. She cried out at the torrent of feeling that consumed her: the physical release and the emotional connection combining to send her headlong into a pleasure that devoured her fully. She yielded to it, welcomed it, knowing she didn’t even exist anymore except to exist alongside Randall Sondheim.

She twisted and cried his name, her orgasm sparkling and bright behind her closed eyes. When finally she came back to herself, Randall had made his way up to her belly, then to her breasts and neck. He kissed tenderly, lovingly, his strong hands touching her exquisitely.

“I could watch you do that all day,” he murmured into her ear. He kissed the tender flesh there, and she felt heat stirring anew.

“I want you to,” she said, her hands trailing from his corded shoulders down his back. “I want you to do that and more.”

For a moment his weight lifted off her while he rolled on a condom. Then he settled between her once more, and she felt the tip of his penis all over again. She yielded to it, her legs falling to the sides, and he slid into her with such fluidity, she wondered if they’d done this before. If in a past life, perhaps, they were lovers and still remembered each other’s bodies.

“Betty,” he said, burying himself inside her, filling her up completely, “you feel so tight, so incredible.” He thrust against her, finding a rhythm that connected them, a beat like the one in their hearts, as he possessed her.

“Randall,” she said again. His name on her lips was a plea as feeling pooled at the base of her spine. He pulled her close, twined their bodies together even more, and drove harder still.

“I have you, Betty. I’ll always have you.”

Her second orgasm broke at his words, her cries mixing with his as he came, too, spilling into her with a force that left the headboard shaking and the empty hallway filling with the echoes of their ecstasy.

When they both settled back into the present—into the incredible passion they’d just shared—he pulled her close and kissed her gently. “That’s just the beginning of a lifetime,” he said. “Of you and me together.”

“I can’t believe it’s already here,” she said, gazing at his steady countenance. “That we’re together, and our togetherness just stretches on, starting right now.”

“It will include a wedding day. A honeymoon. Kids, if that’s something you want.”

“Very much,” she said as love for this man—for the life they would have— filled her anew. She put a hand on her stomach, thinking of the children they might one day have together. Some dark-haired, some fair-haired—who could say? It would be an incredible addition to the happiness she knew she would find, every day, with this man.

As if reading her thoughts, Randall smiled at her. “Someday, if we have a baby, you know what we have to name it, don’t you?”