To Kiss A Bride (by pjb)

Summary:  Sometimes, dreams reveal more than we expect. . . .

Rated: MA  WC  1100

 

                                             To Kiss a Bride

 

He took a deep breath to steady himself.  “You’re still going through with it, aren’t you?”

She nibbled his neck, allowing herself a groan of pleasure at the taste of his skin.  “Yes,” she said.  “And you’ve known that all along.”

He nodded.  It was true.  She knew him so well.

His hand caressed her cheek.  So soft, with that faint scent of rose that made his heart beat faster.  Her light brown hair, normally so properly pinned up, tumbled over her bare shoulders.  He kissed her shoulder, his tongue drawing wet circles as he made his way down to her breast.  He took her nipple in his mouth and flicked his tongue over it, feeling it harden as her breath came more quickly.

“Darling, we musn’t,” she gasped.  Her fingers met in his hair as she held his head firmly in place.  It was wrong, all wrong, but she couldn’t resist.  She could never resist him.  If only . . . but conscious thought melted away as his fingers slipped between her legs, teasing her most private place until she cried out in sheer joy.

“Take me, my love,” she begged.  She lay back, her legs spread wide as he kissed down her body until his lips and tongue took over where his fingers had been.  Mindless of who might hear, he kissed and nibbled and licked until her cries of ecstasy were such a potent aphrodisiac that he couldn’t wait any longer, and he took her with the passion of a man clinging one last time to the greatest of all loves.

Finally, they lay together, her head pillowed on his chest.  The saltiness of each other’s sweat lingered on their tongues.  He pulled her close, closer than he would ever hold her again.  These last moments were slipping away too fast. . . .

The first rays of sun peeked in the window.  He gazed at her.  Tonight, another man would hold her, would taste her, would watch her sleep.  He felt tears well up, and he was glad that she slept.  He kissed her hair, mussed by their lovemaking.  In just a few hours, these lovely strands would be coiffed and pinned and covered with a veil.  No one but he would know how she looked now, as the early dawn glowed and his heart was forever rent.

She stirred then.  “It’s time,” she said.  “I have to go.”  He nodded, not moving as she sat up.  The soft morning light was like a halo around her exquisite body.  She rested one graceful hand on his stubbled cheek.  “Will you be coming?”

He managed a smile for her.  “Only if I can kiss the bride.”

She leaned down, her lips lightly brushing his.  “Always,” she whispered.  He watched as she dressed, buttoning her high-necked blouse and fastening her shoes.  She pinned her hair in an approximation of the way it had looked before he’d pulled the pins out and turned to him.

“Goodbye, my darling.”  And she was gone.

* * *

He woke with a start.  What a strange dream.  So vivid.  He’d almost have sworn that she was here.

The door opened.  “Aren’t you up yet?” his brother demanded.  “We’ve got to get going.”

“I’ll be right down,” he said, still half-wondering if it had been a dream—and what it had meant.

He shook his head as he stood.  It meant nothing, absolutely nothing.  If anything, it meant that he shouldn’t have had that slice of mincemeat pie before bed.  He splashed water on his face and found himself inspecting his neck for marks.  None, of course.  He busied himself shaving and dressing.  The whole thing was ridiculous.  He had no feelings for her, he told himself firmly.  He never had, and especially not now, when she was about to marry someone else.  It was just a ridiculous dream, nothing more.

And yet . . . as he tried to listen to his brothers and father talking over breakfast and in the buggy on the way into town, he couldn’t help wondering if she really did smell of roses and if her skin was truly that soft and creamy.  He watched her standing in front of the altar with her new husband, and he found himself peering at her veil, pondering the lovely brown locks that lay beneath.

It was just a dream, he told himself firmly as the newlyweds walked up the aisle.  He followed his father and brothers outside.  He caught the slightest glimpse of a shapely ankle as her new husband helped her into their buggy.

Oh, to hell with it.  Smiling as widely as any friend, he approached the buggy.  “Mind if I kiss the bride?” he asked.

“Sure,” said the unsuspecting groom.

He handed his hat to her husband and leaned over to kiss her.  Her eyes were wide, almost as though she knew what he was thinking.  If the kiss lasted a moment or two longer than was strictly proper, she wasn’t complaining.  When her husband spoke up, though, he had the sense to draw back quickly.  No point in making a scene.

She did smell of roses.  Damn it all, how could he have known that?

As they watched the newlyweds drive off, his brother approached him.  “I hope you’ve learned something from all this,” he said.

He stared.  “You hope I’ve learned something?”

His brother nodded, grinning.  “Any time you find a gal you want to marry up with, jest call on me and Little Joe.”

Adam made a face, just as he knew they all expected.  As the others burst into laughter, he forced himself to chuckle.  Little did they know.

Little had he known, for that matter.

Well, it didn’t make any difference now.  She was married, and it had just been a silly dream.  Nothing more.

Just a silly dream, he insisted to himself as they headed back to their own buggy.  He had never had feelings for her.  Never.

But as they drove back to the Ponderosa, he couldn’t help reflecting that Hank Meyers sure was a lucky guy.

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