"I'm still in shock!" His voice is muffled as he pulls his shirt off.
"I know you are. You should have seen the look on your face when I told you!" I reply, giggling over my shoulder. I love watching him when he thinks I'm not looking. Despite his age, Jean Luc is still extremely handsome. His diligence to his body is evident in the sharp, defined lines of his torso. His legs, though not bulky, display strength and agility. I love his arms; they're strong, but not heavy. Their lines are smooth and graceful.
He looks over at me and catches my stare. "What?" His voice is soft, but knowing.
We've had this conversation before. "You."
He cocks his eyebrow and turns towards me. My eyes scan his near-naked form, coming to rest on the object of my interest. A smile creeps across my face as he comes closer, "Beverly," he whispers with a voice tinged with passion. I tear my gaze away and focus on his now black eyes. I'm so mesmerized by him, my husband, as he softly twines his right arm around my waist. I feel him come into contact and my breath hitches, "Jean Luc." It's all that I can manage. And somehow, his name is enough. It conveys everything. His name is my benediction and my prayer to the man whom my universe centers on.
In that moment, I'm no longer capable of conscious thought as I move in to taste him. He tastes the same to me, no matter if he's just eaten dinner or brushed his teeth; he tastes like licorice and sweet red wine. He's intoxicating and he feels the same way about me.
I feel his warm hand move to the closure of my robe, still absorbing the moisture left on my body by the shower. The cool air of the room whispers across my abdomen and I shiver. He feels it and moves in closer to cover me with the warmth exuded off his body.
I'm under his spell as he backs me up to our bed. We're silly in that we must have over 15 pillows on that bed. Most of them are decorative. We complain almost every morning about how much we hate replacing them, but for some reason we still do it for the sake of the aesthetic.
I feel his hands at my bare waist, snaking their way over my breasts and up to my shoulders where he makes short work of the robe. I feel it inch its way down my body before he backs me up further and my thighs hit the mattress. I overbalance, momentarily breaking our connection. We don't need words here, but he's compelled to speak, "You're breathtaking, Beverly." I smile at him. I smile because of the effect that I'm still able to have on this man. I never thought that I could be loved like this. I never thought that such a man existed who would worship me the way that he does.
Our separation is transitory, though, as I pull him down to cover me. My lips again claim his own, relishing the feel of his mouth once again connected to mine. I run my tongue over his teeth, enjoying the feel of each individual one. I must have tickled his gums because he pulls away smiling, "Are we really having another baby?"
I smile and nod my head, "yes." I answer simply. He's rapturous as he kisses me again.
My hands move down his body, fumbling to rid him of the last barrier that stands between our joining. "So impatient, Beverly!" He adds as his hands meet mine.
Within seconds the obstacle is tossed aside, "For you," I breathe, "always."
/
"Wes?" I hear Jean Luc call from the office.
"Yeah?" I hear Wesley's characteristic footfall as he makes his way into the office.
"Did you see Saoirse's dummy?"
He shakes his head, "which one? There must be a hundred of them lying around!"
Jean Luc laughs at the veracity of the statement, "I know, but I can't seem to be able to find a single one of them!"
"I think he's talking about the pink one," I add with a knowing smile.
"No. I don't think that I've seen- was that the door bell?"
All three of our eyes meet one another's. We aren't expecting anyone. "I'll get it!" He runs out of the study.
"Uh, Mom, Jean Luc. I think you should come here."