A Bride For The Asking -- (on hold)

Chapter 18--A Day To Remember

            Woodrow felt such a sense of satisfaction in the feel of Rose snuggled in his arms.  He hoped she would never move.  She didn’t seem to mind being held by him.  He could feel her ear pressed to his chest.  She must be listening to the beating of his heart.  He knew she was bound to hear it accelerate.  Just thinking about her resting peacefully in his arms had the power to send his heart fluttering like a trapped bird.  He knew the exact moment she became aware of what her nearness was doing to him.  A slight stiffening in her shoulders.  A hesitant breath.  Then she moved away, as if it was so she could look to look up at him. He pretended not to notice and loosened his hold on her slightly.

            “I’m really sorry about your nephew.”  She said sincerely.  Woodrow smiled down at her.  He laid a hand gently against the side of her head in a tender caress meant to reassure her.  Then suddenly it was as if the world held its breath for a moment as something nebulous sparked between them like a jolt of static electricity.  Neither broke the silence as they gazed into each other’s eyes.  Woodrow’s thumb gently stroked Rose’s cheek and like the flower she was named after, he watched her expression softening and opening to him.

            He tried not to think about those intriguing freckles covering her face like gold dust.  They reminded him of the tantalizing peek he’d the night before of breasts he seen through the lace inset of her wondrous nightgown.  They, too, were sprinkled with freckles; like someone had shaken out a bag of gold dust all over them.  

             Seeking to think of something other than those gold-dusted breasts, he slipped his hand around to the back of her head and pulled her head up towards him enough to let his lips touch hers.  She did not try to resist him, and it gave him courage, when he felt the moist softness of her lips meet his eagerly.  She twined her arms around his neck of her own volition. 

            When Woodrow felt her arms winding themselves around his neck, he felt like his heart was going to leave his chest and take flight.  Bolstered by her participation, he let the arm he had wrapped around her back, slide upward to gently grip her shoulder.  He felt more than heard a soft moan against his lips as she pulled him closer to her and kissed him back. Though in truth, their lips never parted, he felt Rose take over the lead in their kiss, and he was more than happy to let her.  Encouraged, his hand, which had been holding the back of her head, moved gently down to her breast.   

            He felt Rose tremble at this intimacy.  He could feel the warm roundness of her breast even through the layers of her chemise and dress material. He heard her intake of breath, when he shaped his hand to that roundness.  Woodrow felt another tremble as her body instinctively welcomed this touch with little shivers of delight.  If she could feel his own body trembling with wanting her, she did not react to it in fright  by pulling away.  Instead, she relaxed against him even more in complete trust. 

            Woodrow’s tongue pressed at the tiny opening between her lips with more insistence, demanding admittance.  His hand, laying so warmly upon her breast, began to trace tiny, feather-light circles around its peak with an intimate urgency.  Those peaks pebbled in response.  He felt Rose’s lips part in welcome, sighing with pleasure as his exploration of her breast sent signals all over her body.  If possible, she curled even closer to him; as close as humanly possible without her actually crawling on over into his lap.

            Under his hand, her heart beat faster to match the tremors he felt in her body. Woodrow would have gladly let the kiss go on forever, so good did it feel.  But, he didn’t want to overwhelm her.   Reluctantly, he straightened, relinquishing his hold on her body by inches.  He lifted his head enough to look down at the bemused expression on Rose’s face.  He enjoyed the thrill of seeing the slightly swollen, kiss-stung lips he had caused.  Nothing, however, could compare to seeing the birth of desire budding in the depths of his wife’s green eyes.  He smiled lovingly down at her, and lifted his hand reluctantly from her breast.  He ran a finger down the bridge of her freckled nose.