Blushing Pink

by Jill Winters

  He didn't push her away, but he remained still and silent... so she kept going.

  Sliding her hand up his side and over his shoulder, she sank her fingers into his hair. She brushed through it gently as she caressed his scalp, then raked her nails lightly down the back of his neck. She felt chills rise on his skin.

  Soon he was pressing his hips down on hers. Letting out a breathy, aroused sigh, Angela lifted her hips to nudge his erection deeper.

  Drew's face stirred in her hair, and she felt the heat of his breath on her neck. A thrill ran through her as he brushed his lips back and forth over her hair, and then whispered hotly in her ear, "I want you... only you." Trailing kisses down her neck, he chanted, "You, you..."

  "Oh, Drew..." She moaned, bringing both hands to his head and angling him so she could lick deep inside his ear. "Then take me," she whispered. "Please... it's been so long." He turned his face and kissed her hungrily.

  Their mouths were open and wet and devouring, and soon they were grabbing at each other's clothes. Angela yanked his shirttail from his pants, and Drew tore open the buttons of her blouse. He shoved the bra down until it hung below her rib cage. Feverishly he pressed Angela's breasts together and buried his face between them. She moaned and rocked her lower body against his, as she reached down to take his erection out of his pants.

  He licked up her chest to her neck and challenged huskily, "Aren't you going to tell me to 'take it easy'?"

  Ignoring the question, she curled her fingers around his engorged penis and squeezed. A harsh sound burst from his throat, and he took a nipple in his mouth. Using his hand, he kept her other breast pressed to his cheek while he sucked on her.

  She cried out, and he sucked harder and rocked his hips, forcing her hand to stroke him. Usually he liked her to run her hand over him slowly and tightly, but there was no time for that now, she realized. Tonight it was fast and tight. She was hot and wet with need, so fast and tight worked fine.

  Sliding her index finger over the head of him, she realized that she wasn't the only one who was wet. Her breath quickened and caught—they needed to do this—now. He bunched up her skirt with one hand, and clutched the silk of her underwear with the other. Then he yanked her panties down to her knees. "Yes," she whispered, and he plunged into her.

  She shuddered and groaned, and Drew said hoarsely, "Don't you dare fake it."

  "Don't be an ass," she said breathlessly, and begged, "Oh, baby, please don't stop."

  Her eyes drifted shut in ecstasy as sensations overtook her. He was thrusting hard and deep, and she was biting her lip and digging her nails into his butt.

  "God, you're so beautiful." He groaned, and pounded her harder.

  With little warning, her muscles began clenching and contracting, and her breath exploded from her lungs in choppy, harsh gasps. Desperately, she fused her mouth to his in a wet, furious kiss, and Drew pumped his hips even faster.

  "I love you, I love you," she whispered frantically as she climaxed.

  Drew grunted loudly, and pumped two more times before his whole body convulsed, racked by what sounded like anguished sobs, as hot semen jetted out.

  "Oh... God..." she cried, feeling the heat and wetness—feeling him.

  After it was done, Angela kept Drew cradled in her arms, and his groin still nestled warmly inside her body.

  "I love you," she whispered one more time.

  He made no move to push her away; he only snuggled closer. And Angela vowed to herself that she'd never let him go. No way. She would never lose Drew again.

  * * *

  "What are you doing, babydoll?"

  "Giving you a medical exam," Angela said softly, as she coasted her hand lightly over Drew's abdomen, then through his chest hair, and lovingly across his heart. Pressing an ear to his chest, she said, "Hmm, still breathing a little fast..." She smiled up at him. "But nothing we can't handle."

  He grinned. "Have I ever told you"—he slid his hand under her hair, and drew her on top of him—"how crazy I am about this haircut?"

  A giggle slipped from her lips, and Drew kissed it away. Afterward, she murmured, "I'm sorry," against his mouth. She stroked his jaw and said, "Drew, I'm sorry that I've been smothering you ever since... I mean, I just get so worried, and—"

  "I know," he said quietly, "It's not that."

  "Then what... what is it?"

  "Nothing, I don't know."

  "Drew, talk to me," she said, looking soulfully into his eyes, and for the first time in so long, feeling that she was actually reaching him. "Tell me."

  He tightened his arms around her, snuggling her against his chest. "I just... it's..." Then he looked away and said, "Shit, I'm tired. Can we just go to sleep for now?"

  She gave him a long, assessing look, then said, "If that's what you want, babydoll. We'll talk later." She laid her head against his shoulder and rested her hand on his stomach.

  "Thanks," he murmured, kissing her hair and resting his chin on her head. A few beats of silence passed before Drew whispered, "You're so beautiful." Smoothing his hands over her back, he sighed. "Young and beautiful... Angela... you could have anyone."

  She lifted her head up, confused. "What?"

  Drew brought a hand down to brush some of her flyaways aside; he opened his mouth to speak, then shut it quickly.

  "I'd never want anyone else," Angela whispered, holding his jaw in place, forcing his eyes to hers. "You know that... don't you?"

  He smiled faintly, and then, in spite of her hand, turned his head to the side. She climbed up higher on the bed, bracing her weight with her elbow, and whispered, "Babydoll..."

  He turned to face her, and she saw that his eyes were watery, making them a glassy hazel that painfully gripped her heart. Her husband had never cried before—at least not in her presence. But he blinked back the tears, not letting them fall, and said thickly, "You're so young, and I... I don't want you to wake up one day and realize... Angela, I'm just not the same man I used to be."

  She clutched his shoulders, levered herself over him, and stared hard into his eyes. "What on earth are you talking about? Drew, you're only forty, for Pete's sake."

  "But—"

  "Dr. Stone said your heart attack was mild and had nothing to do with being an old man." He sort of grinned at that. "Well, I can't remember his exact words," she qualified. "But still."

  "I'm just... I don't know."

  "What?"

  "I feel... Oh, forget it; it's so fucking clichéd." She waited anyway. He sighed. "I just feel useless."

  "Oh, baby, no," she said, and hugged him fiercely. "That's all in your head. But nothing has really changed. Can't you see that? Nothing has changed."

  "How can you say that? Everything's changed, and now I'll never even be a father."

  Angela blinked and pushed up on her hands. "What?"

  "I mean, I knew that I'd be older than most parents when we decided to have children, but now... oh, forget it."

  "I don't want to forget it," she said anxiously. "Drew, did you want to start trying? Is that what you're telling me?"

  "No, I mean, yes, but what's the point? I won't even be able to play with them, or to coach soccer, or..." Running a hand over his eyes, he laughed humorlessly and muttered, "See? I told you it was all fucking clichéd."

  Angela let out a laugh, even though the subject was serious, and even though she had tears welling up in her eyes.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  Shaking her head, she smiled as two tears streaked her cheeks. "Nothing," she said, "It's just that we're gonna have a family and... Oh, Drew!" She flung herself on top of him. "I'm so excited!"

  He hugged her back, but couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Hello? What about everything I just said? Too old, heart condition, any of this ringing a bell?"

  She laughed into his bare, warm skin, and said, "Forget it. We're having a family, end of discussion. Case closed, period. Thank you."

  "What, you've been thinking about it, too?"
<
br />   "I guess it's been in the back of my mind for a little while," she said, making a breezy sound of total contentment. "But now I'm sure that it's time."

  "But everything's changed," Drew pressed, not sounding half as convicted about that point as he had a moment ago.

  "No, it hasn't," Angela said briskly. "Life took a slight turn, and we're handling it. I still love you more than anyone or anything in the whole world—that hasn't changed."

  When he didn't say anything, she said coyly, "Well? Do you still love me?"

  "You know I do," he said huskily.

  "So then?" she asked, kissing his shoulder.

  "I just don't ever want to lose you."

  Angela sucked in a breath, and thought, He didn't want to lose me so he's been acting like a jerk—men are so weird. "What, are you crazy? Have you missed how devoted I am to you?"

  "But—"

  "Or how I love being with you... ?"

  "But I—"

  "Or how I think you're the smartest, most wonderful man in the world? And no, that doesn't mean I think you're a wise sage who's a hundred and four. I just love you, period. You're never gonna lose me. Not ever." Drew didn't say anything; he averted his gaze, and when he looked up at her again, his eyes were clear. "And we're gonna have a baby someday," she whispered happily.

  His face broke into a wide smile, and he simply said, "Okay, then."

  "Okay. But remember, if you start getting upset about any of this—or anything—we have to talk about it."

  "Okay."

  "You can't just be all distant and weird."

  "Sounds fair."

  "Well, you're suddenly being agreeable," she said, smiling.

  "Yep."

  She laughed. "So why are we even lying here having this discussion like idiots, when we could be celebrating?"

  "I—Wait, celebrating what?"

  "My new career," she said, moving her lips to his chest. His hands locked on her back as she brushed her lips over his heart.

  "What career?" he asked.

  "Um... I'm going into the entrepreneurial game." She slid her mouth up his neck, over his ear, and then just behind it. He turned his head, giving her better access, and glided his hands lower, much lower.

  "Meaning what?" he said on a hard breath.

  "Meaning..." she murmured, feathering her lips across his cheek, "I'm thinking about the French dessert business."

  "Really?" Drew said, sounding surprised. "With your mom?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Hey, that's terrific—really, that's great."

  He was faying to be extra sweet, which touched her heart so much. That was the Drew she'd missed; that was the Drew she adored. But on the other hand...

  There was a time to be sweet, and there was a time for other things.

  "I knew you liked helping her cook, but I didn't realize," he continued, rubbing her back supportively. "The French-dessert business sounds perfect for you—"

  "Mmm-hmm," she said, cutting him off. She kissed him on the mouth, sliding her tongue inside to move against his as she tightened her thighs around his hips. With her left hand she reached for his now-erect penis.

  Breaking the kiss, she smiled almost shyly and said, "I'm glad you support my decision. And if you're a good boy..." Then she whispered something in his ear.

  His eyes darkened. "I'll be good—I promise."

  "Mmm, I know you will," she said, and slipped him inside her. He squeezed his eyes shut as she started to ride him. "Don't ever leave me again."

  He groaned and said, "I promise."

  Chapter 24

  Late the next afternoon the wedding party was rehearsing at St. Catherine's Church. Father Gregg provided a steady onslaught of corny jokes. Meanwhile Reese's gut churned with such a ferocious jealousy she thought she might explode.

  She couldn't believe Brian had brought Veronica! How dared he bring another woman to the church where Reese was confirmed? Couldn't he see the indecency of that? The anathema?

  When he'd introduced Veronica to everyone, he'd referred to her as his "friend"—please, what a crock. Don't think about it. Forget him.

  But what was the alternative? Devoting rapt attention to the stale matrimonial humor that Father Gregg undoubtedly used at every ceremony he performed? Anyway, it wasn't Reese's fault that she was so fixated. It wasn't like she wanted to obsess on every single thing Brian was doing only a few feet away from her.

  "Okay, let's run through it again," Joanna declared. Was there ever any doubt? They'd been "running through" everything for almost two hours; Reese was beginning to wonder if the abuse would ever end. "All right, bridesmaids come down here," Joanna said. "We're going to walk up the aisle." Dutifully, Angela, Reese, Lane, and Deb retraced their steps back to the front of the church. "Good, now, Brian, you come to my right." Joanna motioned to Ben's cousins. "And Chris and James, you get behind Brian."

  "Hey, who's running this show?" Father Gregg cracked rhetorically. Out of the corner of her eye, Reese saw Veronica waving to Brian from her pew, and barely stifled a scream.

  "Reese, you've got to pay attention!" Joanna said.

  "I-I am paying attention," Reese lied. "Why, what did you say?"

  Joanna heaved a great sigh. "I said, commence with the processional."

  "Oh, right." She led the bridesmaids up the center aisle as the groomsmen began walking along the side.

  "Actually—you know what?—wait," Joanna said abruptly, as she rubbed her neck. "I changed my mind. I think we should go back to the original idea of having the groomsmen and bridesmaids walk together in pairs. Here, come back to the front, everyone."

  She motioned for the men to stand beside the women, and by the time everyone was sorted, Lane was paired with Chris, Deb was paired with James, Angela was paired with Drew, and Reese ended up right next to Brian. Could her luck get any worse today?

  "This is perfect!" Joanna said cheerily. "I don't know why I couldn't see it before."

  As the processional got under way, Brian's elbow accidentally brushed Reese's. "Ow," she whispered, glad for an excuse to be a bitch. Well, not so much as an excuse as an opportunity. Brian muttered, "Sorry," but he didn't sound all that sincere.

  When they got to the altar, the men veered to the right, the women to the left. Joanna motioned frantically for Ally to get off the pew she was lounging on, and to stand between her and Michael. Then she waved over Aunt Jacy and Aunt Aileen, who had raised Ben after his parents had died in an accident when he was seven. Both ladies were barely five feet tall, round as teapots, and clad in housedresses and wool cardigans. They scurried toward Ben, who stepped in between them, towering over both.

  "All right, teamwork!" Father Gregg cheered.

  Reese forced herself not to look at Brian, who was directly to her right, so close she could almost smell that sexy, masculine aftershave, and she could almost feel his heat.

  She hoped her rage over Veronica's presence wasn't as obvious as it felt. True, she did have a scowl that wouldn't quit, but she figured her family would think she was just being a generic bitch today, and leave it at that.

  Joanna, Ally, and Michael started up the aisle.

  "No, Michael, you're not doing it right," Joanna scolded. "You're straying from the rhythm."

  "I am?" he said, surprised.

  "Yes, can't you tell? One foot, then wait. See? You're off."

  He shrugged. " 'If your head is wax, don't walk in the sun.'"

  "What's that one mean, Dad?" Angela said, angling her head back.

  Michael smiled broadly. "It means I have no rhythm, and she knew that when she married me."

  "Oh, Michael..."

  "I thought you two looked familiar!" Father Gregg cracked.

  Reese rolled her eyes, and spared a glance back at her parents. Accidentally, her gaze locked on Veronica sitting in the third-to-last pew, with her hair up in a perfect chignon and her delicate shoulders in perfect posture. Compared to her, Reese felt like a compact car: squat and clunky.
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  Sighing, she turned to face front again, and caught Brian's eyes on her. He was watching her—studying her. She swallowed hard, while her pulse pounded in her ears, and she willed herself to look away... but herself never did listen too well. And something was sparking between them right there in the middle of St. Catherine's Church.

  Finally she tore her gaze away. Maybe Brian had brought Veronica to the rehearsal just to hurt Reese. Or maybe he hadn't given any thought to Reese's feelings at all. Or maybe he was so crazy in love with Veronica, he couldn't bear to spend even one moment apart from her. Well, none of those scenarios was too comforting.

  Just thinking about the rehearsal dinner tonight, and sitting across from the lovebirds, made her fume. Then pout... until finally her anger was replaced with total sadness. A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes watered. No, you can't cry. He's a creep; don't cry.

  "Reese!"

  "Huh?"

  "Sweetheart. You're supposed to collect all the flowers from the other girls and set them down on the altar."

  "We don't have any flowers now."

  "You still have to rehearse it." Joanna turned to Michael, and in a strategically unsteady voice, said, "This is getting too stressful for me."

  "Can we just get this done? God." Ally said.

  "Hey, I thought I was the only one on a first-name basis with Him!" Father Gregg said, laughing and holding his belly.

  After that, Ally and Ben went through the drill of saying their vows.

  Twenty minutes later the rehearsal finally wound down. Then, on their way out the door, Joanna suggested that everyone run through it again. "Just once more."

  Reese wouldn't have expected anything less.

  * * *

  Reese went down to the hotel lobby at 6:15 to meet Kenneth. She'd told him he didn't have to come to the rehearsal dinner (hint, hint), but he'd insisted. She supposed she was a little relieved to bring a date, since she knew damn well Brian was taking Miss Prima Ballerina.