FYI: The M rating is just to be safe due to one single line where I didn't want to censor the full extent of Harold's thoughts. This is definitely nothing close to what I'd call an actual M scene, as the summary should hopefully indicate!
xxx
A seductive smile crept onto Harold's face, and he took a step forward, backing her against the shelf. "You won't have to worry about that much longer, Miss Marian," he murmured, his warm breath brushing her ear and raising goosebumps on her skin. "Just five more days of this and you'll be all mine, and I'll be all yours. I, for one, will be counting the minutes." He tapped a finger underneath her chin and then she was gazing into his eyes, breathless. "You will be too, won't you, my dear little librarian?"
"Oh, Harold," she sighed, utterly at his mercy. "Of course I will."
~ Sense and Sensuality, Carolina Nadeau
xxx
Harold could have afforded to take Marian somewhere a lot further away and a lot more exciting than Des Moines for their honeymoon tour. But in truth, he had been looking for a bit of simplicity in his choice. They could have spent their wedding night at home to avoid the drawn-out anticipation and frustration of a days-long journey, true, but overall, he thought that the newness of their physical intimacy deserved all the careful attention they could give it, in complete privacy and without the interruptions of nights spent on trains and boats. He'd save the more exotic destinations for the second, third, fourth, and further honeymoons he was quite certain he'd be taking her on in the future! By then, she would certainly be comfortable making love with him in all sorts of unusual places and ways.
He'd also learned from their conversations surrounding his business trip to Des Moines that Marian had not been to the capital since she was a child, and that it had been a long time since she'd visited any large city – she'd simply not had the reason for it, or the time, once she became responsible for supporting her family. So the music professor was confident that he could put together a honeymoon tour that would delight her just by bringing her to the sort of attractions that River City was distinctly lacking. A play, a concert, a motion picture, restaurants, ballrooms – all of that would be more than enough to enchant his new bride, and he could keep the majesty of the Pacific Ocean, the Old-World glories of Europe, and the bright lights of New York for a time when their marriage was not brand-new.
The most important part of this honeymoon itinerary was their hotel room, a place where he fully anticipated them spending so much time that they'd probably end up missing some of their other engagements entirely, a thought that made Harold grin ear-to-ear.
Though he'd stayed in a tidy but bare-bones inn while he'd been in Des Moines to pick out the new band uniforms, he'd made certain to take time while he was there to track down the most luxurious, exquisite accommodations to share with Marian after their wedding. He'd found what he'd been seeking in the Seymour Hotel, selecting from their brochure a spacious, plush suite with an enormous bed where he intended to spend hours upon hours making love to Marian each day, as many times as they could possibly manage.
And now their honeymoon was going to begin in only about forty-eight hours. I'll be counting the minutes, he'd told her in the library a few days ago, and now that it was so very close, he suddenly felt compelled to try and do just that. Harold was no lover of arithmetic, but he'd been so distracted and worked up that he actually did the math in the margins of his ledger.
By the time he closed up shop tonight, there would be only about 2,880 minutes until they'd be making love as husband and wife in their Des Moines hotel room, Marian soft and naked and warm and wanting, sighing and moaning in his arms...
The number was, admittedly, a bit daunting and not exactly encouraging when looked at in its entirety. But he had to remind himself that the count was ticking down rapidly. These weren't 2,880 hours, nor days, just minutes. After months of waiting to be able to fully explore his tremendous passion for the woman he loved, the wait was now so near to its conclusion that it could be quantified in a not-unreasonable number of minutes. It was enough to drive a man pleasantly mad.
While he was exceedingly familiar with the mere act of physical intimacy, the prospect of sharing it with this unbelievably gorgeous woman who he loved more than life itself – the only woman he'd ever loved, or ever would – had his stomach doing somersaults. It made him feel like a nervous teenager again, about to tread thrilling but entirely uncharted territory. What would it be like, making love while actually being in love? All he knew was that it would be like nothing he'd ever known, something so intense and beautiful that he almost worried that his prodigious talents in the bedroom would prove insufficient. Almost.
He'd sampled just about every physical pleasure imaginable in his life thus far, but even his first, most chaste kisses with Marian had been better than the rest of his carnal experiences all rolled together into one. None of his loveless escapades could have possibly prepared him for actually making love to his Venus. The mere thought of undressing Marian and feeling all that smooth, untouched skin beneath his fingers and lips, of golden curls cascading freely down her back at long last, of her bare legs parting to welcome him as she looked up with pure trust in her eyes, left him rapt and breathless. She was holy ground, and he was wholly unworthy of making her his own, but she was going to let him claim her anyway.
What was that strangely intimate English wedding vow he'd read in one of her novels this autumn?
With my body I thee worship...
Long accustomed to being keenly aware of his surroundings at all times, it wasn't often that Harold was startled, but he was so deep in his reverie that he almost missed the click-clack of his beloved's heels on her way down the hall, and he dropped his pen with a clatter when he saw her step into the doorway.
"Marian!" he blurted, heat rising in his cheeks from his graceless reaction. His grin was lopsided, a little sheepish, but helplessly besotted. Only she could catch him off his guard in every conceivable way, and he could never count on being his usual shrewd, cool-headed self around her, but somehow, he didn't mind at all.
"Hello, darling." She was leaning ever so slightly against the doorframe, looking like an autumnal vision in a cinnamon-brown skirt and cream-colored blouse with a collar he deemed just the right height to tug down for the purposes of kissing, and the delicate blonde curls that rested against her cheeks, unbound by her chignon, were simply begging to be touched. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she studied his face. "I'm sorry, did I startle you?"
The music professor cleared his throat and straightened his tie, though it didn't need it. "I suppose I was – thinking a little too hard. But you, my love, are the best surprise I could possibly hope for."
She gave him a knowing smile. "I understand. I kept finding myself thinking too much today, as well. Now, really, how am I supposed to go about my day as normal knowing that it's my final shift at the library before I return as Mrs. Harold Hill?"
He was so delighted at hearing her call herself by that title that he spent too long reveling in it to come up with a witty retort in time. Instead, he responded in complete honesty: "I've been finding myself awfully distracted all day for the exact same reason."
As she entered the room, Marian hung up her coat on the stand, an action that briefly baffled Harold before he remembered that she'd promised to help him close the Emporium and set everything in order, as it was also his last day at work until they returned from their honeymoon. There wasn't actually much left to do after all, as he and Tommy had managed to work more efficiently than he'd expected, but before he could open his mouth to tell her that, she was speaking again.
"I also had to spend most of my lunch hour examining flower arrangements for the reception, because Mrs. Dunlop absolutely insisted that nothing could go forward until I'd seen them in person and given my approval! And then Mrs. Moreau wanted me to stop by and make certain that I liked the sash on Amaryllis' flower girl dress – " The librarian clicked her tongue and shook her head with a good–natured sigh. "Of course I'm so grateful that everybody wants to help make this a wonderful wedding. Six months ago, I never could have imagined any of this, not the wedding itself nor all the ladies rallying behind me like they are. But it gets exhausting, tending to all these minutiae when the only thing that truly matters to me is that I get to marry you. Why do they think I'll be fretting over which flowers are in the vases on my wedding day?"
Harold nodded in sympathy, hands folded under his chin. "When the ladies promised to help with the wedding planning, I was hoping it would take some of the pressure off you."
"It's been enough pressure for me to work out all the particulars of my dress with my own mother! But that's one thing I don't mind." She looked over at him almost shyly, twisting her fingers together. "I suppose there are a few superficial things that I very much want to be perfect."
"Well, I certainly can't fault you for that. You're going to be the most beautiful bride." He found that he couldn't even say it lightheartedly, his voice catching in his throat from emotion.
He'd been imagining Marian in a wedding dress ever since the night he'd realized he was in love with her, but something struck him differently now that it was less than two days away. The moment he locked eyes with her as she prepared to walk down the aisle to him and vow her love everlasting, that first time seeing her swathed in white lace as his bride, was going to be overwhelming. How was he even going to pronounce the words of his vows in the midst of such a dream come true? How would he even remember to breathe?
It didn't feel appropriate to fall into all the effusive declarations of love and longing he wanted to make while he was still sitting across from her at his desk with an open ledger, so he cleared his throat and took a moment to temper his response.
"I can't wait to see you in your dress, darling," he finally said. It was an entirely true statement that didn't begin to express half of how he felt.
Walking around to the side of his desk, Marian pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, a sweetly domestic gesture that grounded him somehow. "Now, what about you? Do you have much left to do? The place looks neat as a pin out there. I'm quite impressed!"
Harold raised his eyebrows in mock affront, feeling his wits return to him. "Madam Librarian, are you implying that I usually run an untidy shop?"
"Oh, of course not!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "But I suppose I came here expecting you'd want my help. But you're all done?"
Closing up his ledger at long last and putting away his pen, Harold nodded. "Tommy was a great help earlier, so I'm all ready to close the place up." A glint in his eye, a slow smile spreading across his face, he rose to his feet and stepped around the desk to join her. "But nobody has to know that. I'd say this is an ideal opportunity for us to steal a few moments alone before we go join the family for dinner, hm?"
"Well, a girl can hardly say no to that." Marian's cheeks bloomed rosy pink, but she did not yield an inch. "I confess that I was rather hoping we'd have such an opportunity."
Though they were entirely alone in the building and business hours were well over, the music professor wasn't taking any chances, so in a few quick strides, he reached the door of his office and shut it firmly before turning back to his waiting fiancée.
Even though they were entirely free to kiss just about whenever they wanted these days, it had never diminished the intensity of Harold's longing for her. Every single time, he felt the same dizzying desperation to kiss her as he had the very first time, and he had no doubt that it would always be this way. His little librarian looked so soft and sweet and delectable, glowing hazel eyes and gleaming blonde hair, and they were all alone and she was looking up at him so invitingly, her beautiful face all lit up just for him. She was perfect, and she was all his... well, almost.
Pulling Marian close and wrapping his arms around her, Harold buried his face in the soft crook of her neck and nuzzled her, breathing her in. Her scent, her warmth, the softness of her curves and skin and hair, all of it was wildly intoxicating, arousing beyond his wildest dreams. He wanted to drown in her. Thank God the wedding was less than two days away, because he didn't know how much longer he could survive without being allowed to make love to this gorgeous, fascinating woman who had him so completely bewitched.
"Marry me right now," Harold teased, lips almost touching her skin.
While an innocent statement on its own, it was heavy with suggestive meaning. At this juncture, it was impossible for it to be otherwise – and he very much wanted Marian to be comfortable with that, to be at ease with the unspoken promise of what being married would mean for them.
Naturally, Marian would be worried about the newness of it all, both physically and emotionally, but Harold felt a profound sense of responsibility to make their lovemaking perfect for her. And that started here, before the wedding, as he did his best to ensure that she was free of shame or undue worry. He needed her looking forward to their first time with breathless excitement and impatience, not fear.
It was a seduction of sorts, but the sweetest and noblest of seductions, perfectly planned to do right by her instead of wrong.
At present, it appeared to be working, because a plaintive little sigh escaped her even through her giggling. "Oh, Harold, I wish I could."
In response to that, Harold could do nothing but whirl her around and kiss her properly on the lips. He started out slow and gentle, but her mouth opened beneath his so eagerly, her arms wrapped around him so tightly, that before he knew it, he was giving her a flurry of deep, passionate kisses, crushing her against him save for the space between their hips.
He knew they were playing with fire, being entirely alone together like this so close to their wedding, but this heat between them could never be fully tamed or controlled. There was nothing wrong with playing with a little fire as long as they could put it down afterwards – and he'd even had the foresight to stack a few boxes of sheet music on the sofa earlier to insure against the most dangerous temptation this room provided. As much as he enjoyed pushing at the edges of the boundaries they'd set for themselves as the wedding drew closer, he took his responsibility not to cross them very seriously.
Anyway, he was doing his duty as a fiancé by keeping his bride's appetite keenly whetted, wasn't he?
At the moment, it seemed he was doing a very good job at it, because she was letting out little gasps and whimpers that hit him right below the belt with each and every kiss and caress. And she wasn't simply being passive in his embrace, either, even though it had only been a few days ago that she'd confessed her worry that it was somehow wrong for her to desire him so deeply – no, there was a fire in her, an unabashed hunger in the way she grabbed at him and pulled him closer and boldly met his mouth with her own over and over.
In their nearly five months of courtship, she'd become an expert at kissing him as fully and deeply as he kissed her, and Harold absolutely could not wait to see her brilliant aptitude and enthusiasm applied to the more advanced course of study he'd be teaching her starting in two days.
It hadn't been his original intention to teach his gorgeous pupil anything more about the course material today. But with her tongue sliding confidently against his, fingers entangled in his hair, little sounds of pleasure and excitement emanating from her throat, he could only resist going a bit further for so long. And, after all, this might be his last chance before the wedding to do something that would leave her aching for him.
Remaining standing was essential, but Harold wanted a little more leverage, a little extra closeness, and he made the audacious decision to back her up against the wall beside the door. Once he had her playfully pinned, he began by tugging down that temptingly high collar and covering her neck and throat in open-mouthed kisses, tasting the delicate ivory skin that thrummed with her pulse. Nothing that could leave a mark, of course, just enough to delight her, make her sigh and laugh and squirm at the ticklish pleasure of it.
Though he was beyond desperate to finally, finally cup her breasts in his hands, he deemed that too great of a risk – it could easily have led to the undoing of buttons and such – so he slipped his hands lower, sinking his fingers into the luscious softness of her backside and giving it a squeeze that made her gasp and giggle against his lips.
"You are so soft – so perfect," he whispered between kisses to the sensitive spot just below her ear, and he could feel the shiver that shook her slender frame.
Although what he very badly wanted to do next was not entirely new to his innocent fiancée, Harold was still somewhat nervous about how she might respond, but she was so relaxed with him tonight, so yielding and eager, that it seemed like a safe bet. Her heart was pounding in time with his, vibrations he could practically feel in his own chest, and as he pulled her back in for a series of deep, languid kisses, he dared to pull her hips flush against his own so she could feel all of him, as she only had once before.
Just as she had that day at the lake, Marian broke their kiss and gasped, but this time her face instantly lit up with an exhilarated smile, eyes simmering with desire. Even more surprisingly, she pressed her hips right back against his more firmly and confidently than she had the last time, and when Harold couldn't stop himself from groaning aloud at the sensation, this time she didn't show the slightest inclination to pull away.
They had never talked about it before, but now Harold felt the need to say something, both to tantalize her for the wedding night and to show her that it was perfectly natural and right to talk about such things without shame.
"That – is what you do to me." His voice came out rough and ragged, low but not quite as velvety as he'd intended.
Marian locked eyes with him, hers round and trusting and darkened by hunger. Her words came haltingly, but her tone was calm and sweetly inquisitive, even as her hips continued to press into his. "Is that really – I mean, I was wondering about – does that happen all the time when we're together?"
The music professor tried not to chuckle at that understatement, lest he think he was laughing at her at such an intimate moment. She was being so startlingly open, so vulnerable, so frank, and he never, ever wanted to bruise that budding passion.
"All the time, with you," he admitted. "Or even when I think about you. Not always, er, this much, if we aren't kissing and all."
What he couldn't tell her yet was that no woman had ever affected him this profoundly, had ever made him so consistently, maddeningly hard before he'd ever even touched or kissed her once. Someday, perhaps, when she was ready to hear that, he'd tell her how absolutely wild she'd driven him since the first night he ever laid eyes on her, how many times he'd moaned her name into his empty room.
"That seems – uncomfortable." She seemed half-unaware of what she was saying aloud, their current intimate position making her forget herself.
Harold could only give her a mute nod, not trusting himself to say anything in direct response to that, though her unexpected candor charmed and delighted him – he could tell, already, how much fun their bedroom banter was going to be, once she grew comfortable enough to engage in it.
One hand relinquishing its hold on her backside, Harold's fingers brushed an errant curl off her cheek and he looked searchingly at her beautiful face. Before he'd had the time to deliberate over whether it was wise, the words came tumbling out: "Things happen to you, too, don't they?"
He hadn't even had time to castigate himself for being so reckless when his answer arrived.
"Yes," she whispered, cheeks flaming, eyes cast down out of what he hoped was mere maidenly modesty and not shame. But she'd answered – and quickly – his head was spinning, his cock excruciatingly hard.
Gently tilting her face back up to look at him, Harold was relieved to see that she didn't look ashamed, just shy. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a good thing, very good. You know what that means? It means – " He hesitated, because all of the words that came to mind, while they would have been delicious to say to her after they were already married, were verging on too explicit for this already risky conversation.
It means we'll fit together perfectly, he wanted to say. It means your body is preparing to welcome me in. But while he would have had no compunction about saying that on their wedding night, he had to be careful not to be too explicit and embarrass Marian, or worse.
There was another element in play, too – he considered it extremely unlikely, but if she did anything he hadn't planned for, if she got bold and curious and touched him below the belt or asked him to touch her, he knew he would not be able to trust himself to refuse. He wanted her to want to do those things, but it was essential that he steered them away from the actual possibility.
He finally settled on a suggestive yet entirely proper answer that would make it clear that he wasn't trying to seduce her prematurely: "It means you're ready to be my wife."
To his relief and delight, Marian didn't recoil for an instant. "Oh, I am ready," she breathed. "Truly."
Harold laced his fingers with hers, their hands entwining together in a perfect fit, ivory and tan skin together, and somehow even that innocent gesture was maddeningly charged with provocative meaning. For a moment they found themselves both staring at their hands, Marian's kiss-swollen lips parted and nearly panting. The air in the room felt heavy with tension and far too hot for December.
She squirmed closer to him, hips and all, and the look on her face was almost pained. She was looking up at him with that bewildered, desperate longing he'd first learned by heart on that fateful July night, that melting, pleading, vulnerable, touch me look. Back then, no matter how desirous she'd looked, Harold knew she'd only been desperate to be kissed... but right now, when they had plenty of kisses to spare and their yearning bodies were separated by only a few layers of fabric, her demeanor meant something unmistakably different.
He assumed her thoughts could not have been very explicit, but he believed that for the most part, she knew what she wanted now.
In a way, he realized, this must have been even more agonizing for her than it was for him. He, at least, could go home tonight and give himself a little temporary relief by taking matters into his own hands, but he was almost certain that Marian didn't know how to do that, that she wouldn't have done it even if she did know. It sounded torturous, the way unrelenting, unmanageable arousal must have been wracking her body, and the thought made Harold resolve more firmly than ever to devote their honeymoon chiefly to making his gorgeous bride come over and over and over until she was too sated to move a muscle.
Some devil on his shoulder was whispering in his ear, You could help her, you could show her, just one hand up under her skirt would be enough...
Harold absolutely, unequivocally, was not going to do that. His rules of honorable canoodling had been like a creed to him as their courtship grew more and more heated: No unbuttoning anything, not counting coats. No hands up under skirts. No kisses below the collarbone. And of course, nothing whatsoever that could conceivably bring either one of them to climax. And even though this creed was happily due to expire in two days, it was still incontrovertible dogma until they'd gotten themselves to the altar unscathed.
But that didn't mean he couldn't show her a little something more before he brought things to a necessary halt. As a good and honorable fiancé, he was forbidden to give her relief tonight, but he could at least continue teasing out her passion to make her first ecstasy on their wedding night all the more wonderful and intense.
As he captured her luscious lips in another deep kiss, he finally dared to move his hips against hers in a pantomime of lovemaking, wanting to give her the barest, faintest hint of what it would be like, a tantalizing preview of his hips beating a rhythm against hers for her to dream feverishly about in her last couple nights in her girlhood bed.
Though he wasn't thinking too clearly, Harold still had the presence of mind to be uncertain about how she'd respond to this brazen act on his part. True, their wedding was very close, and he wasn't crossing any real boundaries, but there was still something frankly obscene about what he was showing her, and he briefly worried it might have been too much. He didn't think that such an act besmirched her virtue as a nearly-married woman, but what if she did?
But by all evidence, Marian was delighted. Almost immediately, her hips began to move back against his. When she arched against him and let out a delicious almost-moan in his arms, fingernails clutching at his shoulders through his suit-coat as she pulled him as close as she possibly could, Harold knew that he would be reliving this moment in his mind without end for the next however-many minutes until he could make love to her fully and properly.
Soft and wet kisses to her lips and neck and throat, hands running up and down her back to her bottom, a stream of heated, adoring praise whispered between kisses, and their hips undulating back and forth together... several of those precious minutes passed in this blissful manner. It was only their feet on the ground and the wall behind her that anchored them to reality, stopped them from succumbing to the haze of desperate, primal urgency that could have very well consumed them.
Harold never ceased to be amazed at how soft Marian was in all senses of the word. When he'd first come to River City, she'd tried so hard to be all hard edges and severity, almost making a performance of it in her attempt at repelling him. And he knew why now, of course, knew that the façade of the humorless spinster was the armor she put up against the men who'd thought her an easy conquest and the ladies who'd looked down their noses at her, mercilessly scrutinizing her for any possible hint of misconduct.
But, though she was still, for the most part, the prim and proper librarian to all the rest of River City – though much less severe than before – there was absolutely no remaining trace of that forbidding ice queen in his embrace. The true Marian was warm and giving, eager and curious, witty and youthful, and she'd chosen him. And at present, she was melting in his arms, sighing with delight, boldly meeting his lips and tongue with her own again and again, her hips responding to his so very naturally while she craved to grasp some early understanding of the rapturous mysteries of being a woman and a wife.
His little librarian was going to be an extraordinary lover, unquestionably his equal in passion, and he thanked his lucky stars over and over for sending him this woman who was so perfect for him in every way. All this while her sensuality was still budding – it sent him reeling to think what she'd be like when she blossomed.
Ever-present in the back of Harold's mind was the reminder that this could lead nowhere further, that they needed to stop before they were tempted to turn the anticipation of pleasure into the real thing. He wanted to make a sweet, heated memory, not a bittersweet one, which was why it was essential to stop before things went too far. They were dancing along that line already – he could feel his control slipping, his hips now thrusting against hers out of sheer need instead of measured seduction.
And as a backdrop to their embrace, the office clock quietly ticked on and on.
That neverending tick tock penetrated through the fog of gasps and sighs and two warm, wanting bodies half-twisted together, and it was somehow exactly what Harold needed to bring him back to his senses. After all, all that was required was just a little more waiting to keep their engagement free of guilt, to keep their wedding honest and sweet, to keep their wedding night sacred. There was an infinite future of passion and joy locked behind one finite wait so close to its end, not even two full days. Each and every second brought their wedding night closer, but working themselves up more and more would do nothing to speed that time along.
Gently, apologetically, he pushed her hips away from his, pointedly ignoring the way his body screamed in protest – nothing was going to happen, anyway, you know that, he chided his baser impulses – and took several deep breaths as they parted, almost feeling like he was gasping for air.
"We should stop." His heart felt like it was bouncing wildly through his body, from his chest all the way to the top of his head somehow, and his blood was on fire.
"Yes," she answered simply, and her voice was low and throaty in a way that Harold had never heard before and it almost ruined him. Oh, she was going to be incredible when she learned how to talk naughty to him in bed.
His mind produced another unhelpful thought:
You could still tell her, tell her what she could do when she's alone in her room tonight and thinking of you...
The music professor brushed that devil right back off his shoulder. Yes, the fantasy of it was erotic enough to drive him out of his mind, but in practice there was no excuse for such a risk, especially one that could go wrong in so many different ways. The goal had always been to leave Marian so burning hot for him that she wouldn't be afraid of making love with him for the first time, and at least the first half of that statement had been definitively accomplished.
Anyway, it may have been somewhat selfish, but he had to admit that he found it a wildly arousing thought that he would be the one to coax her to her first orgasm, to witness all her overwhelm and astonishment and elation, and this close to the wedding, he saw no reason to try and change that. Sometime after they were married, he'd teach her, just as he planned to teach her every other pleasure a man and woman could possibly share, but not now.
Then Marian surprised him yet again by breaking the charged silence between them. She licked her lips unconsciously, brows knitted with innocent curiosity. "Is that – what it will be like?"
If she'd knocked him any more off-balance, Harold would have been sprawled on the floor of his office. Just when he thought he was home free and had succeeded in quashing all of his most dangerous impulses and doing the honorable thing, she'd gone and outright presented him with this temptation to describe everything he wanted to do to her, put his lips right next to her ear and paint her the most painfully erotic picture with words that would make her knees give out beneath her, send a flood of aching heat rushing deep between her thighs, make her moan without even touching her.
Imagine us moving like that but with no clothing between us – imagine me kissing you all over, head to toe, touching and tasting you where you need it most, and imagine how my cock will feel sliding inside of you, filling you up – can you imagine it, my dear little librarian?
But of course he didn't say any of that. He couldn't. He would, perhaps, but only after they were safely married.
Instead, he only said: "A bit like that, but better. Much, much better." He was breathing hard, voice roughened by lust, and it was all he could do not to pin her right back up against the wall. Two of his fingers twitched uselessly at his side in an unconscious imitation of how he wished he was moving them inside her – he couldn't stop thinking about just how wet she must be –
Fighting all of his body's treacherous instincts, Harold took his fiancée's hands in his and softly, sweetly kissed each one. He'd done so much to work her up into a lather for him tonight, but he feared that he'd nearly forgotten the other half of his duty, to make sure she was unafraid of the act itself and the vulnerability it would bring along with it. "I don't want you worrying about a thing, all right? I promise, I'm going to take such good care of you. In every way."
Flushed, dazed, but looking like the perfect portrait of deep love and desperate longing, Marian nodded. "I trust you, Harold. I understand that I can't truly know what it will be like, that you can't really tell me now, but I know from the way you are with me – well, I trust you with my whole self."
And he knew that he had said exactly the right thing. He had jumped headlong into risk after risk tonight, but each one had been rewarded, and he suspected – he hoped – that this intimate interlude had truly left his little librarian more ready than ever to be his wife in every sense. What was most important, most beautiful was that after all they had done, she still deemed him worthy of her trust, and he didn't see so much as a hint of embarrassment, guilt, or regret in her.
His mind was still racing with wild, forbidden images of their naked bodies entwined in every possible configuration, but to each one, he responded with a firm later. Taking slow, deep breaths, Harold ordered his mind and body to stay under control. He was, admittedly, proud of himself for not breaking any of his rules, but that was in truth the very least he could have done, especially seeing as he'd willingly put them in this dangerous situation to begin with. The only responsible thing he could do now would be to get them out of it.
Nothing like this could be allowed to happen again before the wedding – fortunate, then, that they likely wouldn't have another opportunity to be so alone for so long until they reached their honeymoon suite.
With a sigh of reluctance, he gave her hands one more kiss each, and an extra one on her engagement ring, before dropping them. "Time to get you home, darling. We'd better not be too late for dinner."
The corners of those kissable lips turned upward in a little smirk. "We can only pretend to be closing up the Emporium for so long, right?"
Harold laughed, delighted and relieved to see how comfortable she was with him after everything that had happened tonight. "Exactly."
xxx
Nestling close to each other while walking was perfectly acceptable for an engaged couple, but it was even more acceptable in the December cold, and Harold was grateful for the weather that would allow him to keep Marian snug against his side all the way back to her house.
Her house. It wasn't really hers, it was her mother's house, and he was increasingly thinking of it as such now that their house stood ready for her arrival. Between all the last-minute hustle and bustle about arranging the wedding and reception, Marian had also been packing her belongings to be moved to the house on Maple Street while they were on their honeymoon. Even now, a few of the heavier boxes
"Does it feel strange that you'll be leaving your mother's home very soon?" he inquired as they strolled.
She tilted her head from side to side, considering. "It will be strange, leaving them, living apart from them. But Winthrop doesn't need watching over the way he used to, and he's so very excited to have you as a brother-in-law. And Mama – well, this is all she's wanted for me for years!" She laughed softly. "As long as we come back to visit often, they'll both be happy. And –"
And give her grandchildren. That precious dream hung silently in the air between them, and Harold couldn't help but smile.
Though Marian's cheeks were a bit more flushed now, she managed to continue on smoothly without acknowledging that she'd cut herself off midsentence. "I feel so fortunate that with Mama and Winthrop in my life, I've never been all alone. Not all unmarried women are nearly so lucky, I know. But they're not all I have anymore, far from it, and I am more than ready to leave my girlhood behind and have my own home and my own – life." Again there was a word left unspoken, but he could easily decipher what she'd really wanted to say: family. She gazed up at him with hazel eyes shimmering with love. "I truly meant it when I said I'm ready to be your wife, Harold. I'm ready to begin our life."
His heart so warm that the night air couldn't have chilled him at all, Harold stopped them where they stood and pressed a sweet kiss to his bride-to-be's forehead, right in the middle of the sidewalk. For just a moment longer than he ought to, he lingered with his arms wrapped around her, because even in the chastest of embraces, he found it near-impossible to let her go.
"I love you so much. And I meant it when I said I'm counting the minutes, too." He grinned crookedly as he tugged her back to his side with an arm around her waist and resumed walking, taking them around the corner to West Elm. "You know, funny thing, that. Earlier, I sort of, ah – made a few calculations..."
As he told her about what he'd been doing before she'd walked into his office, he had her blushing and giggling right until they reached her mother's door for reasons they weren't able to adequately explain to a puzzled Winthrop. Mrs. Paroo, bless her heart, simply regarded the young lovers with a merry twinkle in her eye and didn't pry, even providing a distraction by calling in her son to help set the table.
But all evening long, all Harold had to do to make Marian blush delightfully was to meet her eyes and check his watch or gesture subtly to a clock when no one else was looking.
Tomorrow, they were both going to be kept very busy by last-minute preparations and the wedding rehearsal, and that was probably for the best. Harold hoped there would be time for some kissing, of course, but they'd likely always be just out of sight or earshot of somebody, and that made for a much safer situation. It was undeniable now that, given complete privacy, the librarian and music professor were liable to produce near-explosive results. Harold was an honorable man now, and he could handle keeping the flint and steel clear of the powder keg for one more day. To ensure his beloved's comfort and happiness, he'd do it gladly.
After tonight was over, there would be only one more night of walking her to a home they didn't share. One more night of goodnight and goodbye at her front door, sweet stolen kisses before walking home alone. One more night of pining and desperately waiting in separate, empty beds blocks apart.
And then all the nights ever after would belong to them.
Tick. Tock.