Proposing to Preston: The Winslow Brothers #2 (The Blueberry Lane Series Book 8) (10 page)

“This morning you told me that you’re falling in love with me.”

“I am,” he whispered, before closing his mouth and frowning at her as he tightened his jaw.

“I’m an actress. Occasionally I kiss people. Occasionally I kill them. It doesn’t mean I actually love them or actually hate them when I do these things. It’s pretend.”

“I know. I just—”

She placed her finger over his lips and shook her head back and forth slowly to hush him.

“It’s pretend,” she said again, taking a step closer to him so that her breasts grazed the stark white cotton of his tuxedo shirt. “Do you want to know how I’m so certain that it’s only pretend?”

“Yes,” he said, his breath audible as she leaned into him.

“Because the only way for me to kiss him like I love him, is for me to imagine that he’s you.”

He flinched, the slightest movement of eyes narrowing before widening as he grasped the full intention of her meaning.

“What are you saying?” he rasped, holding his breath.

“That I’m falling in love with you, too,” she said, flattening her hands on his chest as his arms came around her like bands of iron.

“Really?”

She nodded, grinning at him, trying to be brave. “I’m afraid so.”

“Afraid?”

“I told you… that day in the meadow as I read
Ethan Frome
? Love scares me.”

“And I promised you that I wouldn’t fall in love with you. I’m sorry for breaking my promise. I couldn’t help it. You should have been less awesome.”

She laughed softly, staring up at him in the moonlight, at his dark eyes which focused on hers unceasingly.

“Are you still afraid?” he asked, taking a deep breath which made his pectoral muscles swell against her palms and reminded her of how her nipples had felt between his fingers last weekend.

She glanced down at her hands on his chest before looking back up at him. “A little.”

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice heartbreakingly earnest. “I won’t hurt you. Not ever.”

“I believe you,” she said, tilting her head back as she wound her arms around his neck, and pulling him down to kiss her.

With a rush of breath, his lips were on hers, hard and demanding, taking what was his and offering what was hers in return. His hands slid up her back, cupping her head as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. As hers glided against his, he finally gentled, trusting the feeling of her in his arms, trusting her amazing words, trusting that even though she’d kissed a movie star tonight, she
belonged
to him.

He leaned back to look at her, at her sparkling blue eyes, which were dark as they met his gaze.

“Take me to your bed,” she whispered.

All of the air was sucked out of the room.

“My bed?”

“I’m not ready to…” she swallowed.

“I know,” he said, his body tightening with the thought of them together in his bed, regardless of what they were doing there. “We’ll go as slow as you want.”

“I just want to be with you,” she said, her fingers playing with the waves that curled on the back of his neck.

He nodded, taking her hand and leading her back through the apartment to his bedroom. Without turning on the lights, he dropped her hand to close the door, then turned to look at her. It only took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light of New York City which filtered into his dark room, and he stood with his back against the door, waiting for her to tell him what she wanted. In the meantime, he admired the view.

She was wearing the simple black cocktail dress she’d changed into after the play, and flattened her palms on her thighs nervously as she stepped out of her high heels and stood before him. He could make out the swell of her breasts, the sharp rise and fall of her chest in the moonlight.

Watching her, it occurred to him that it had probably taken a terrible amount of courage for her to invite him to join her here, to take this next step with him. Desperate to make things easier for her, he took two steps toward his bed, holding out his hand to her. After only a moment’s hesitation, she stepped forward and took it, leaning into him, letting him enfold her in his arms.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he said softly near her ear, letting his lips graze the soft, hot skin with a feather touch. “You have my word.”

He pushed her hair off of her shoulder and dropped his lips to the bare skin there, sliding one hand from her lower back to the top of her zipper, then pausing for a moment, waiting for a sign that she wanted him to undress her. She tilted her neck to the side, to give him better access to her throat, and he dropped his lips to her pounding pulse as he pulled the zipper down, the soft hissing noise making his blood flood south where an eager part of him stiffened in anticipation.

They wouldn’t be having sex tonight. Even if she offered it, he would gently—and dolefully—refuse, because he didn’t want her to give away her virginity impulsively and regret it later. He wanted her to be sure, even if it meant depriving himself for a little longer.

Sliding his lips over the skin of her throat, he pushed the dress over her shoulders and down her arms, listening for the elusive whisper of fabric pooling around her feet. When he heard it, he raised his head to look at her, cutting his eyes to hers, and holding them as he found her fingers by her sides and lifted them to the lapels of his suit jacket. Understanding what he wanted, she pushed the jacket from his shoulders and it slipped down his arms to join her dress on the floor.

Answering the question in her eyes, he looked purposely down at his shirt, reaching for her hands again and placing her trembling fingers on the first button, which she unbuttoned carefully.

Step by step, he taught her how to undress a man, how to bare his body to hers. It was simultaneously terrifying and deeply arousing to take the lead with her tonight. Terrifying because it was so much responsibility to be someone’s first everything, and arousing because he
was
the first. She’d never been with anyone but him, which was so hot he had to force himself to stop thinking about it or his body would have expectations that their relationship wasn’t yet ready to meet.

As her finger trailed down the length of skin between the first and second buttons, he gasped softly, holding his breath, watching as her lips swept upward with a small, teasing grin. He’d been undressed by dozens of women in his life, more times than he could count. But Elise’s inexperience made tonight feel different. Hyper aware that everything was new for her, he found his own senses were sharper and his skin more sensitive—almost like it was his first time too, by proxy.

Reaching up, she smoothed his shirt over his shoulders, her palms gliding over the muscles in his arm and sending goosebumps down his spine. His shirt caught on his wrists, and he reached to unbutton it, but Elise intercepted his hand, pressing her lips to his fingers before unbuttoning the cuff on one sleeve and then the other. His shirt whooshed softly to the floor and unable to wait any longer, Preston let his eyes fall to her breasts.

Covered only with a black satin bra, the demi-cups overflowing with her flesh which was white in the moonlight, his chest clenched with something profound—something like pain or wonder, or pure, undiluted gratitude. Sliding his eyes back up to hers, he reached around her back and unclasped her bra, but left it in place so she could decide if she was ready to let him see her.

Breathing audibly in soft, quick pants, she dropped her eyes to his chest and reached forward to press her hands to his pecs, which he flexed reflexively. As she touched him, her bra straps drooped down her arms, catching in the pocket of her bent elbows. The black, satin cups clung precariously to her breasts. Slowly, and with as much respect and gentleness as possible, Preston reached for the straps and smoothed them the rest of the way down her arms, watching as her breasts were revealed in the moonlight—perfect white globes with dark pink areoles and taut, puckered nipples.

She dropped her hands from his chest to her sides so that the lingerie fell soundlessly to the ground, then raised her eyes to his. Even in the dim light, he could see a mix of emotions in them—her bravery, her fears, her arousal, her need for reassurance.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, lifting his eyes as he cupped her face with his hands. With one step he was close enough to feel her nipples graze his bare chest, and his voice was raspy and low as he murmured, “You’re so beautiful, Elise. So, so beautiful.”

Her lips tilted up just a little at the corners and a small, soft sound of pleasure escaped from the back of her throat as he leaned down to kiss her, pulling her flush against him, the warm, pliant flesh of her breasts flattened against his chest for the very first time as his tongue slipped into her mouth. With his hands on her hips, he backed up to the foot of his bed, lying back and pulling her down with him.

She covered his body with hers, their lips still intimately connected as their tongues tangled, her breasts against his chest, her flat tummy pressed again his tight abdominal muscles, and the softness of her sex cradling his erection from above. Without releasing her lips, he scooted them both back and rolled her onto her back, lying on his side next to her, and kissing a path from her lips to her neck. Sliding his lips to the valley at the base of her throat, he rested them against her as he lifted his hand to caress the side of her breast then paused, waiting to be sure that she welcomed his touch.

With a soft, impatient whimper, she slipped her hands into his hair, her fingers flexing as she bowed her back and raised her breasts to him. Gently grasping the soft, supple skin, he plumped her breast with his hand before lowering his mouth to one straining nipple. His tongue circled the puckered bud and she gasped, the raw sound of pleasure making his eyes flutter closed as his lips sucked on her tender, rigid skin. Her fingernails razed his scalp as he shifted to her other breast, lapping at the stiff, pink flesh until she was writhing beneath him.

“Preston, I…I…” she moaned, panting between strangled sounds as he smoothed a hand over the warm, velvet skin of her belly, slipping under her black panties. He rested his palm over the soft thatch of curls, trying to steady his own breathing as he sucked her nipple back into his mouth and slid one digit between her soft, wet folds. She gasped, a sound of surprise and pleasure ending in a panted whimper as he circled her slick clit with his finger.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured, arching her hips just a little.

Preston licked his lips, sealing his mouth back over her nipple, unable to contain his own groan of satisfaction as he latched onto her sweet-smelling skin. He licked and stroked her in perfect harmony, trailing his lips through the valley of her breasts and sucking her nipple between his lips as his finger glided across the hot, slippery bud of her clit, his tongue above matching the rhythm of his finger below, stroking and licking until Elise was arching her back off the bed.

“Pres, help me…I can’t—” she cried, clutching at the sheets by her hips and twisting them in her fists.

Still rubbing her sensitive flesh with his finger, he raised his head to look at her face. Her head was thrown back into his pillow, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and tears escaped from the corners of her eyes.

She was unbelievably beautiful, trusting and responsive, and as much as he wanted her in every possible way, he reveled in this moment of bringing her to her first climax. Releasing her breast, he smoothed her hair from her forehead, leaned his head forward and whispered close to her ear, “Sweetheart, just let go.”

As if she’d been waiting for permission, her entire body tightened, crested, her hands reaching for his head and guiding his mouth to hers as a primal cry broke from the back of her throat. He swallowed the sound, stroking her tongue with his as she bucked against his hand. Her body trembled and shuddered beneath him and he gentled their kiss, brushing her lips tenderly before finally releasing them. She panted beside him, her chest rising and falling with the force of her orgasm, the rest of her body limp and sated.

“Pres….,” she moaned, the sound luxurious and deep, ending with a melodic sigh and soft, broken words she said over and over again. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know…”

Sliding his hand from her panties, Preston wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and dropping his lips to the back of her neck.

“Thank you for letting me be the first,” he murmured, his heart swollen with love for her.

Her breathing was slowing down, but he felt her heart under his arm where he held her tight. It still fluttered wildly, and he felt the slight jerk of aftershocks as she settled in his arms, snuggling back against him.

“Preston,” she whispered, sniffling softly. “That was so beautiful.”

“
You
were so beautiful. I could watch you a million times.”

“Stay with me tonight?” she asked him, placing her hands over his, just under her breasts Just when he thought she was asleep, she whispered on a sigh, “Stay with me
every
night.”

His eyes closed. Slowly. As they would at a long journey’s end, or when something he’d desperately hoped for against odds was finally his. For the foreseeable future, if not forever, he would hold her in his arms, his breath against her neck, the scent of their lovemaking surrounding them and the strong beat of his heart binding her body to his.

***

Eight weeks later,
Ethan Frome
was a bona fide smash, but the play’s two month run was coming to a swift close. With only two shows left, Elise found she both mourned and celebrated its imminent end. Mourned because
Ethan Frome
had been her big break and she would always cherish the memory of working with Mr. Fischer, Garrett, and Maggie, from whom she’d learned so much. But she celebrated its close because her future in the New York theater scene suddenly seemed so bright and promising—she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

She had signed with Mr. Durran’s agency and he assured her that when
Ethan Frome
folded next week, he’d have dozens of upcoming opportunities for her to choose from. In fact, just yesterday, he’d left a message that
Our Town
was going to be staged at the Barrymore in September and he’d already pitched her for the part of Emily Webb. Much like the part of Mattie Silver, Emily was a beloved American character that Elise had played before and knew very well. She’d whooped and hollered when she heard the message, committing to giving the best audition possible and excited beyond belief to have the possibility of another amazing role to look forward to.

Elise wasn’t the only one with good news, either. Preston had come home last night to say that he’d been offered a conditional position at the law firm where he was interning, Mulligan & McKee. As long as he passed the New York bar when he got his results in November, the job was his, and until then, he’d be paid on the assumption that he’d already passed. Suddenly he wasn’t a student and intern anymore—he was a Junior Associate at the hippest, most in-demand legal firm for athletes in New York City.

“I was sure they’d wait to offer me something in November!” he’d said, his eyes bright and alive with excitement.

“Nah!” she said. “They know talent when they see it, Pres!”

He’d kissed her, swinging her around the living room with glee. “We’re on top of the world, sweetheart. I’m taking you out to dinner tonight!”