Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(44)

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.