Page 41 of Wicked & Wildflower

What are we wearing to this shindig?

Haven’t decided yet.

I like blue.

For me or for you?

I look good in everything, Wildflower.

But you in a cerulean dress that matches the color of your eyes?

That’s enough to bring a man to his knees.

Preferably me.

Stop flirting, Everett.

You know it’s in my D.N.A., baby.

She’s wearing a blue dress.

It’s more navy than cerulean, but fuck, if it doesn’t make her eyes shine like sapphires. The silk fabric clings to her waist and stretches at her bust and hips, accentuating every one of her beautiful curves. Simple, thin straps are tight over her shoulders and appear to cross in the back. The dress hugs her legs all the way down to the ankle, where her feet are strapped into a pair of silver heels.

Her hair is in soft waves at her shoulders, makeup neutral—heavier than her average day, but less than she wore to the bar the night I met her—and her lips are painted a glossy, pale pink shade that glistens when she smiles, which is exactly what she does now as she descends the stairs and catches me staring at her. I realize I’m looking at her with a dropped-jaw, wide-eyes, and my heart beating out of my chest so hard, it’s likely leaving an imprint like one of those old cartoons.

Darby follows her sister down the staircase, wearing a soft yellow chiffon gown that cinches at her waist before flowing to the floor. Short, loose sleeves fall off each of her shoulders, accented with bows, allowing her chest to highlight the gold necklace that hangs at the center of it. A simple golden chain, one that belonged to my brother, now houses a small flower pendant. I notice Dahlia is still wearing the same compass necklace she always has on too.

My brother stands next to me, fiddling with his cufflinks and oblivious to anything going on around him until his fiancéereaches the foyer and steps into him. Taking his hand, she begins to adjust his sleeves for him. I know Darby caught him by surprise when his head snaps up and he rears back, doing a double take before freezing to take her in. Darby smiles as his eyes rake across her body, and she finishes fixing his cufflink.

He steps back quickly before surging forward and grasping each side of her face with his hands. He presses his mouth to hers, backing her into the dining room and just out of sight. “Swear to God, honeysuckle, I’m gonna get you pregnant later,” he murmurs between what sounds like mauled, rough kisses.

I’m thankful that our mother picked Lou upbeforewe left, because I think he’s so oblivious to everyone else in the room right now, he would’ve said that right in front of her.

Darby giggles. “Dare ya, heathen.”

Dahlia and I glance at each other awkwardly from opposite sides of the small entry space. She remains on the bottom step of the staircase, eyes darting around the room uncomfortably before finally landing on my face. “Please don’t say something like that to me.”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes my lips. “I’d never be so forward.” She gives me an eye roll, but I don’t miss the tilt of her mouth or the flare in her gaze as she looks me up and down.

Leo and I are wearing essentially the same thing: a black tux, though he’s wearing a bow tie and I went with no tie at all, leaving the top two buttons on my dress shirt undone, a simple gold chain hanging off my neck. I watch Dahlia lightly lick her lips as she catches that. I smirk, reaching out my hand in the space between us. She takes it, allowing me to help her down the last step on the staircase just as our siblings round the corner of the dining room hand-in-hand.

Darby’s slicked-back bun is slightly ruffled, and my brother’s hair is tousled like a pair of hands were just running rampantthrough it. I hear a small chuff leave Dahlia’s lips, indicating she noticed it too. “Ready?” Dahlia asks.

“Absolutely.” Leo smiles. “You look beautiful, Dal.”

“Nice of you to notice.” There’s a glimmer in her eyes that tells us the jab was meant in jest.

My brother only laughs as he opens the front door. He leads Darby out first, and I place my hand on the small of Dahlia’s back as we follow behind them.

“You look stunning, Dahlia,” I whisper quietly in her ear.

“Thank you,” she responds breathlessly.

As we reach the car, I open Dahlia’s door for her, getting a view of the back of her dress for the first time. Just like I thought, the thin straps cross at her back, leaving most of her smooth, pale skin on display. The tightness of the fabric around her legs extends to her plump, round ass, and I’m fighting back a goddamn groan. It’s like this dress was made for her.

“Can I be forward enough to say that you do look utterly fuckable in that?” I murmur against her shoulder as she climbs into the back seat.

I assumed I was being quiet, but the way my brother’s head whips sideways, a glare on his face, tells me I failed. Dahlia snorts, not bothering to respond as she slides into the seat and looks up at me with playful eyes, pulling the handle and slamming the door in my face.

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