"More," she demanded, then gave him another kiss.
He smiled against her lips. "You're drunk, sweetheart."
"Nope. Just blipsfully tissy. Blissfully pipsy." She sighed. "Oh, you know."
She kissed him again. "It's been forever, Greg. Make love to me."
She smashed her lips against his and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Within seconds they were in the throes of a make-out session that rivaled their college days. She reached down with her right hand and pushed against his left hip until he followed the motion and climbed onto the bed, into the spot between her parted legs.
Her left leg wouldn't cooperate, but she managed to raise her right and hook it around his hip. She moved both hands to the back of his head again and ran her fingers through his hair.
He took charge of the tongue play and slowed down their kisses. She drank in every warm, wet touch, the reassuring feel of his weight, his nearness. She couldn't wait to feel him inside her, total and complete union.
She raised her hips and pushed against him, against the now-hard lump between his legs. He was ready for the same thing. She bumped him again.
He stopped kissing her, then he pulled her hands apart and helped her settle into the pillows. "Give me a few minutes to get ready, okay?
"A few minutes is too long," she said with a whine.
"I'm still in my coat. I'll be back before you know it."
He climbed off her, and she pouted. He kissed her on the forehead, then started the ritual of peeling off his work clothes.
She set about tugging and wrestling her way out of the lounging pants and sweatshirt she'd donned for her snackfest in front of the TV.
"Taa-daa, I'm done!" she called from the bed, tossing her clothes over the side and onto the floor.
She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow just as Greg emerged from the walk-in closet in his bare feet. He still had on his grey slacks and crisp, white work shirt and red tie.
"Beautiful," he said in a deep, admiring whisper.
She blew him a kiss.
He smiled as he reached up and unknotted his tie. He pulled it free and hung it on the back of the chair by the dresser. He tugged the hem of his shirt from his trousers and started unbuttoning the long line of buttons from collar to waist.
When he took it off and she could see the delicious outline of his torso, it took her breath away.
"You are so ungodly gorgeous," she said in complete awe.
His smile widened, and pleasure surged through her body. Immediately behind it, though, a wave of grief and anger followed. He was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. They were husband and wife, and all that was missing was a flesh-and-blood symbol of their love. Before she could even get a grip on it, she sobbed.
"It's not fair!" she cried, sitting up as the tears flowed.
Greg came over to the bed and sat down next to her. "C'mon Hil, don't do this. Don't do this now."
He pulled her into a warm hug. She pressed her forehead to his neck and shook and cried as the familiar ache charged through her body like the proverbial bull in a china shop.
)
