Proposing to Preston: The Winslow Brothers #2 (The Blueberry Lane Series Book 8) (12 page)

“Less talking, more undressing,” she said, tilting her head back. “And more kissing.”

He kissed her again, his tongue gentler than it had been in the taxi or elevator. She slid her tongue against his, wanting urgency and heat more than tenderness. She popped open his pants’ button, unzipped his fly and tried to push his pants and underwear over his hips, but his boxers caught. Preston groaned softly as she tried to push them down again, and she broke off their kiss to look down.

Until now, she’d only touched his naked penis by tentatively slipping her hand into his underwear, but she’d never seen Preston completely naked. She leaned back and looked down at his tented boxers, slipping her thumbs into the waistband so she could pull them out and over his erection.

She heard a gasp—a short, ragged sounds pass from her own lips—as she stared at him with the tiniest bit of fear and reached out to grasp him with her hand. It was big. And thick. And it throbbed with his pulse—tiny, almost imperceptible, pumps of blood making it harder and wider as she held him. Drawing her bottom lip into her mouth, she glanced up at Preston for reassurance. And he was there for her, smiling with a mixture of love and amusement.

“I promise it’ll be okay,” he murmured. “But it’ll
feel
better if we slow down a little and you let me…”

“Let you…?” she asked, swallowing, the hot weight of him heavy against her palm.

He loosened her hand with a low groan, then pulled her off the bed to stand before him. Reaching for her panties, he slid them down her legs without dropping her eyes. “I’d rather show you.”

She nodded, knowing that she could trust him and wishing she felt as certain about their marriage as she felt about everything that was happening between them right now. It made her heart soften and surge to put her pleasure in his hands. Why couldn’t she do the same with the
rest
of her life?

His gaze slid down her naked body for the first time, and when she heard his panted sigh, her mind went blank of any other thoughts except what was happening between them right now.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice low and tight.

She sat down first, then lay back, leaving her bare feet on the floor, and Preston dropped to his knees, spreading her legs and leaning forward.

He flattened his hand over her curly mound, as he had dozens of times before, and Elise, primed for pleasure, took a jagged breath and closed her eyes as his finger slipped between her folds.

“My God,” he groaned, “you’re so wet, sweetheart.”

His fingers spread her lips and she felt the cool air of their bedroom on her sensitive skin, making it pucker and throb. Leaning his head forward, he flicked his tongue over her clit.

Elise whimpered, clutching the sheets in her fists and throwing her head back into the mattress. He licked her again, slower this time, and just as she started to understand what he was doing, she felt his finger enter her body and she practically bucked off the bed, straining up as his mouth latched back onto her tingling, aching flesh. Another finger joined the first, pressing against the wall of her sex as his mouth circled and lapped, sucked and licked.

A divine swirling started in her lower belly, rising higher and higher, until she could barely draw breath. Her muscles tensed until they trembled and shook, her fingers twisting into the sheets until she exploded into a million pieces, her body gyrating against his mouth and convulsing around his fingers. She heard herself scream his name, the sound echoing in her head like a prayer, and she crested, riding the wave of pleasure with her eyes clenched shut, barely aware of the world around her.

As she returned to earth, her body still jerked lightly as Preston crawled up the bed, pulled her up beside him and wrapped her in his arms.

And Elise promptly started crying.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she dropped her forehead to his chest, burrowing into the strong, solid warmth of he offered. She felt confused and overwhelmed, cherished and terribly in love, frightened for the future, but comforted by the kisses he pressed to her head, by his soft murmurs of love.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stroking her hair away from her forehead.

No, I’m not. I’m a mess. I love you so much, but I’m afraid we made a mistake today.

“Preston…everything happened so fast,” she blurted out.

His hand on her back paused. “What do you mean?”

I mean I should have stayed your girlfriend for a little longer. I’m not ready to be your wife. I got swept up in romance and fantasy, and now I’m scared that it all moved too fast.

But how could she say any of this to him? How could she make him understand her fears without pushing him away? She didn’t want to lose him, she just wished they could go back to yesterday. She took a ragged breath, closing her eyes against the maelstrom of her thoughts.

He pulled her tighter against him, stroking her back with long, soothing strokes and it gave her the courage to say, “It feels like we just met.”

“It feels like that to me sometimes too,” he said. “But we love each other. I can’t imagine my life without you, Elise.”

The truth? She couldn’t imagine her life without him either. But wanting him and making room for him were two different things, and one felt organic while the other felt frightening.

“I don’t know how to be a wife,” she said, her tears returning as her memories flashed to her mother doing the house chores as her father tended to the farm.

Her example of married life was based on manual labor, traditional gender roles, a shared religion and very little obvious friendship or passion. That’s not what she wanted. Not at all. As she pictured her parents, sitting across from one another in silence at the dinner table, the lump in the pit of her stomach swelled tenfold, and she clenched her eyes shut, holding on tighter to Preston.

“I don’t know how to be a husband,” he said. “How about we figure it out together?”

“I’m going to disappoint you,” she said, sniffling.

“I don’t think so,” he said, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Today was the happiest day of my life, sweetheart.”

The happiest day of
his
life, and one of the more troubling for
her
.

And yet, in that moment, she made a decision to keep her true feelings to herself today. If she was honest with him and told him how she really felt, she’d ruin today for him. She’d tarnish it. And Preston didn’t deserve that from her. And besides, the deed was already done. For better or for worse, they were married.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his skin, comforted by the warm, solid strength of his arms. Maybe if she gave herself a little bit of time to adjust to marriage, her uncertainties would dissipate and she’d feel more confident and secure in the role of wife. She knew that Preston would be patient with her. Their marriage didn’t have to be like her parents’ marriage. It could be whatever they wanted it to be. Today, the judge had said,
It will take faith, to go forward together without knowing exactly what the future brings.

Tomorrow Elise would start working on her faith in them as a married couple, and—gulp—she’d start that journey by being honest with him about her doubts and worries. She knew him well enough to know that he would listen attentively and they could start figuring out how they wanted their marriage to look. They were goal-oriented people who would set objectives and work together to achieve them in their marriage as in their careers. She had faith that they loved each other enough to figure this it out together. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they could start putting the work into the journey they’d started today.

Feeling marginally better, she pressed her lips to his chest and wiped her tears away.

Because it was so much easier, she concentrated on the feeling of his body next to hers instead of the worrisome feelings she wouldn’t be able to sort out today. It felt like heaven to be clasped against him, flesh to flesh, though she felt empty, too. She wanted him. She wanted him to fill her. She wanted him to fill her so deeply that there wasn’t room left for the thoughts in her head or the doubts in her heart.

She took a deep breath, pressing her lips to his chest. “Pres?”

“Hmmm?”

“Make love to me,” she said.

His hand on her back froze.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Mm-hm,” she murmured, leaning back so she could look at his face. “I want you. I need you. It’s time.”

***

Preston meant to go slow.

He had promised himself that he wouldn’t have any expectations and if she still wanted to wait, that he would be patient with her. But hearing permission tumble from her lips ground his good intentions to powder, and he reached for her face, dropping his lips to hers. He kissed her passionately and
finally
with abandon, rolling her onto her back to cover her body with his.

Cradling her face with his palms, he drew back to look at her slick, rosy lips, moving his erection intentionally against the damp tangle of curls between her thighs that he’d just loved with his mouth. She flinched, clenching her eyes shut and biting her bottom lip as his cock slid into the damp valley rubbing back and forth against her aroused clit.

“Open your eyes,” he said.

She did, and they were dark blue and glassy, full of rolling emotions. He read love and uncertainty, devotion and fear, trust and need…he saw it all staring back at him—the multiple facets of the woman he now called his wife, and it made his heart swell with tenderness to fully realize what she was giving to him today. Her heart, her life, her body. In every possible way, she would belong to him.

“I love you,” he breathed, positioning himself at her opening.

“Me too,” she sobbed, her breathing shallow and ragged. “Please, Pres. Please.”

As he entered her, her eyes widened with surprise. Holding her gaze, he inhaled and held his breath, trying not to cry out in pleasure as he moved past her lips into her tight, wet, silky heat.

“Okay?” he gasped.

“Okay,” she murmured, giving him a small smile as her fingers caressed his back from shoulder bone to hip, digging in a little where they rested over his ass.

“More?”

She nodded, her dark eyes sparkling with something undefinable and new that belonged only to him.

He allowed himself to surge forward a little more, feeling the soft ridges of her sex clinging to him as he slid deeper, his fingers dropping from her face to fist in the sheets on either side of her head.

He stayed as still as he could, giving her a moment to adjust to his size and width before he finally pushed through the thin barrier that would join them completely together.

He didn’t expect her to suddenly arch her back, thrusting her hips toward him, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he glided the rest of the way into her with a low, satisfied groan. Surrounded by her soft, wet, trembling sex, he opened his eyes as he drew back and plunged forward again.

Bending back her neck, she arched up again, burying her head in the pillow and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. He withdrew again and surged forward, watching her face for any sign of fear or pain, but saw only pleasure in the fluttering of her eyes, in the clenching of her jaw and moans of “more.”

“Pres, how do… how do I…?” she whimpered, her fingers digging into his lower back as she started meeting him thrust for thrust.

“You let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’ll be right behind you.”

As he slid into her again, her eyes opened and she locked her gaze with his. “I’m so glad…it was you.” Then she closed her eyes and cried out his name, her whole body tensing beneath him before convulsing into the most beautiful fucking orgasm he’d ever seen in his entire life. Her skin flushed pink and glistened with sweat as his name fell from her lips over and over again like a litany or prayer or promise, and though he wouldn’t have believed it possible, he swelled inside of her, pulling out slowly, then pressing in deep.

As she pulsed around him, he felt the intense gathering, the pressure in the pit of his stomach, the tension that made his breathing so ragged and fast, he knew he couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Throwing back his head, he bellowed “I love you!” and let go, flooding his wife’s body with his life force and love and his most devout promise of a happy forever.

The early morning sunshine was dazzling against her eyes when she opened them several hours later, taking a deep breath and stretching. She felt Preston’s warm, naked body behind her and smiled.

From the moment she’d asked him to make love to her, they’d both been ravenous for each other—greedy, urgent and demanding, and after having sex the first time, they’d made love all afternoon, into the night, only stopping to nap before reaching for each other again. They’d barely talked, engaging in a marathon of sex that had finally left them both exhausted.

Elise moved gingerly against him, not surprised to find she was tender between her thighs. Knowing that Preston’s body had used hers to aching was so sexy, it made her want him all over again. She was an addict, she thought with a saucy grin, addicted to her husb—um, to Preston.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“I am now,” she purred, snuggling into him sighing with anticipation when she felt his erection straining against her backside.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her, his breath warm on the back of her neck.

“Amazing.” She turned onto her back so she could look up at him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, wife,” he said, grinning at her. “I love you, Mrs. Winslow.”

Her smile wavered because she couldn’t ignore the unexpected clench of her gut. It was panic, setting in as swiftly as it had yesterday at their wedding ceremony. She’d been distracted by amazing sex for the past twelve hours, but suddenly she was right back in City Hall with a dozen uncomfortable questions circling in her head that she simply couldn’t answer.

“Mrs. Winslow,” she murmured, wishing that the title of “wife” felt as effortless as “lover.”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes twinkling with happiness. “You love me?”

She did. She loved him very much, which made her doubts about their marriage infinitely more confusing.

“So much,” she whispered, her heart acknowledging the pure truth of her words, despite the way it had clutched a moment ago when he’d called her “Mrs. Winslow.”

He dropped his lips to hers, kissing her gently before leaning back. “I’m going to make you so happy.”

“Speaking of happiness,” she said, determined to be honest with him and start a healthy dialogue about their marriage, expectations and future. She took a deep breath. “Maybe we could go to the park today…and really talk. About getting married, and what we want, and where we’re going…my career, your career…everything.”

“Yeah,” he said, kissing her again. “Sounds good.”

Just like that, her stomach unclenched. “Really?”

“Absolutely. A marriage summit. To get things off on the right foot.”

She grinned at him—the first genuine smile she’d been able to offer him since leaving City Hall yesterday—and it felt divine.

“Exactly,” she said, laughing softly as her body relaxed.

“So noted. A marriage summit on the docket for later today…but for now, Mrs. Winslow? More sex,” said Preston, kissing her again.

“You’re insatiable,” she said, ignoring the uncomfortable new title as her body responded to him instantly. She twined her arms around his neck and slipped her tongue between his lips.

Preston rolled on top of her, the hardness of his erection pushing into her thigh as his hands skimmed down her arms and—

Her phone buzzed loudly on the bedside table and she froze.

No one ever called her. The only people who had her number were Preston, her parents and sisters, who never called her, and Donny Durran.

Preston’s hands continued their leisurely exploration of hips and belly as  his lips pressed tiny kisses to her neck. She wiggled away from him just enough to free her arm and reach for her phone.

“It’s Donny,” she said, looking at the screen over his shoulder.

“Call him back later,” suggested Preston, glancing up from the valley between her breasts.

“It could be important. It could be about a part.”

“It’s Sunday. The part will still be there tomorrow.” Preston sucked her nipple between his lips, and her back arched reflexively, but she pushed at his head.

“Stop, Pres. Stop. Seriously. I have to get this.”

He sighed, rolling onto his back, and she pulled the sheet over her breasts as she answered the phone.

“Hello? Donny?”

“Elise. You’re up. Are you sitting down?”

She sat up straight, glancing at Preston, who grinned at her, sliding his palm across her belly.

Stop!
she mouthed. He moved his hand away, pouting.

“Uh, yes. I’m sitting down.”

“This is big, Elise.
Way
bigger than
Our Town
, honey. This is huge. Are you ready?”

Her breath caught. “I’m ready.”

“It’s Hollywood.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Yep. Turns out Jack Mosell was in the audience on Friday night and he loved you. I mean, he
loved
you. And he’s one of the best casting directors out in L.A. Well, he got back to L.A. yesterday and it turns out that Diana Agron has pulled out of playing Edna Pontellier in
The Awakening
.”

Her heart was racing so fast she could hardly speak. “By K-Kate Chopin?”

“Yeah. Period piece. Anyhow, they’ve already started production on the picture and now they’re at a standstill until they can find a fast replacement for Diana. So, Jack tells them about you. And get this, Elise…he called you ‘the American Kiera Knightly.’ Can you believe it?”

“The American Kiera Knightly,” she repeated dumbly.

“So Jack went on and on about you. Then they called me to see if your schedule’s free, and I said it was. And, well, they’re in such a jam, they asked if you could go out there and screen-test today, and as long as they liked what they saw, you’re in.”

“I’m…in?”

“You’re in! Listen, I booked you on the ten o’clock American flight out to LaGuardia, and I’ll have a car there to pick you up in thirty minutes. Jack will meet your flight and take you right over to MGM. Elise, this is the big time, kid. Are you ready?”

“I’m—I’m ready,” she squeaked.

“Pack a bag. The car’ll be there soon,” he said. “And Elise? Congratulations. You did it.”

“I did it. Th-thank you, Donny.”

The line went dead and she clicked the end button on her phone, turning to Preston. “Oh, my God!”

“Is everything okay?”

She started laughing, almost hysterically, as the news settled in. “Pres! They want me in L.A! Donny set up a screen test!”

“Wait. What?”

“Hollywood!” she cried. “I’m going to be in a movie!”

***

“Elise…wait, wait, wait, wait. Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Preston asked, watching his wife jump out of bed, pull on a T-shirt she found on the floor, and run to his closet. She turned around a moment later with a duffel bag, unzipped it and plopped it on the bed.

“Packing!”

“Slow down a sec. What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, a beaming smile on her face. “Donny reserved me a ticket on the ten o’clock American fight to L.A. I have to pack. Oh my God, this is so exciting!”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, then turned and beelined to the bathroom.

“Elise?” he called, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet to his waist. “Can we talk about this?”

“Huh?”

“Sweetheart, can we talk about this?”

She peeked out of the bathroom. “Pres! There’s a part for me in Hollywood! For
me
!”

“Okay. I get that. But you picked up your phone, had a five minute conversation, screamed that Donny set up a screen test in L.A., and now you’re packing. My head’s spinning.”

“He’s sending a car in”—he peeked out again and glanced at the clock on his bedside table—“twenty-five minutes.”

Preston whipped the sheet off his body, pulled on some boxers and crossed the room to lean on the wall just outside of the bathroom. “Can you stop for a minute?”

“I have to pack,” she insisted, glancing at him before grabbing her toothbrush and squeezing it into her toiletry bag.

She was packing. She was leaving. The panic in his chest ratcheted up.

“You’ve never even mentioned an interest in movies.”

“Pres, the is
The Awakening
by Kate Chopin.” She zipped the small pouch closed and snapped her head up to look at him. “They called me the ‘American Kiera Knightly.’ Do you have any idea what this could mean for my career? I could pay off all my loans. I could—”

“Is that what this is about? Money?” He reached out and placed his palms on her shoulders, relief sluicing through his veins like Valium. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to take this job if it’s about money. Listen, we haven’t talked a lot about finances yet, but I’m not just comfortable…I’m loaded. I mean, I can write you a check from my account today and we’ll pay off every cent of your loans.”

“You don’t even know how much I owe,” she murmured, pausing in her haste to stare up at him.

He shrugged. “Is it less than thirty million dollars?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

“Then we’re good.”

Her blue eyes widened, searching his for a moment as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not. Finally, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and ducked away from him, back into the bedroom, where she put the toiletry bag in the duffel bag on the bed.

“I can’t accept your money.”

“What?”
He leaned against the bathroom doorway, that terrible, panicky feeling crashing over him like a wave. She’d been acting weird—a little off—since they’d returned to his apartment yesterday. Sexually, she’d blown his mind, but emotionally, she’d been a little distant. He’d chalked it up to a combination of new-bride jitters and losing her virginity, but now he was starting to worry. “Why not? I’m your husband.”

She looked up, clenching her jaw once before turning to the bureau that held her underwear and opening the top drawer.

“Because it’s not about the money, Pres. It’s about the job.
The Awakening
! My big chance. This is it.”

“I thought
Ethan Frome
was
it
. Plus, I was under the impression that you were a
stage
actress.” He licked his lips, recalling her very words. “The audience? The synergy? The—”

“I’m an
actress
,” she said, glancing at him before packing her lingerie then whirling back to the bureau. She opened the second drawer, pulling out a small pile of T-shirts and shorts before closing it. “Stage, screen, TV…whatever. I go where the work is. New York. LA. Wherever there’s a part that needs me.”

I need you…playing the part of my wife. You can’t just leave.

The panic inside of him was whirling like a tornado now, growing by the moment; he wasn’t getting through to her. She needed to stop packing for a minute so they could actually talk about this.

He crossed the room and reached for her from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She didn’t protest as he sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. “Please talk to me, sweetheart. We live
here
. We work
here
. We’re married, and you’re going to do Broadway shows and I’m going to work for Mulligan & McKee. I mean…How does going to L.A. to be a movie star fit into this?”

Though she stayed in his arms, her posture was rigid. “I’m not going to be a movie star, Pres. It’s one role. But don’t you see? It could be my big break. This is what I’ve worked for my whole life. This. Right now.”

“I know that, but what about us?”

“I’m not going to L.A. forever. It’s just a little break,” she said, turning in his arms to look at him. “Maybe while I’m out there, you can come and visit me.”

A little break? Did they need a little break? And she was suggesting he “visit” like some long-distance boyfriend? He didn’t want to “visit” his wife. He wanted to live with his wife—sleep next to her, wake up next to her, make love to her every night and every morning.

He tried to swallow past his disappointment. “Is this really what you want?”

“Yes.” She nodded, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “It’s so important to me, I can’t even tell you. I never, ever, not in my wildest dreams, let myself imagine Hollywood. Please wish me luck. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you, I’m trying to get my head around this. We got married yesterday. And, I mean, we’ve barely talked, but we were going to have a Marriage Summit today and—”

“We can have it over the phone,” she said, tilting her head to the side and grinning at him like everything was fine, like she wasn’t leaving for L.A on a whim the day after their wedding. What the hell was going on with her?

“Over the phone?” He searched her eyes, dread joining panic because she looked happier and more excited than she’d looked in two days. “Maybe I could go with you.”