Page 73 of Pick Six
“I remember,” he says defensively.
I slide the bag behind my back. “Describe it to me then.”
“It was kind of plain, white, simple but it fit you perfectly. Came in at the waist and then had one of those big skirts to it.”
“You’ve described every wedding dress in history. Congrats.” I give him a playful grin.
“Fine.” He takes a step closer to me, closing the distance, his hand slipping under my chin. “It had straps and a pretty deep V. Not enough to be indecent, but when you had to lean over, like cutting the cake, it came to about here.” He traces a line over the tops of my breasts. “You had on a necklace too, with a sapphire on it I think, and it dangled just above. Kept catching the light and making me wish… well I’m sure you can guess.” He grins at me.
“Again… still describing most wedding dresses in existence but A for effort.”
“Wait.” His eyes flash up to the ceiling and then back at me, a devious smile floating over his lips. “There’s twelve buttons down the back.”
“Twelve?” I ask suspiciously because I don’t even remember how many buttons there were.
“Check. You’ll see.”
I pull the dress around again, unzipping the bag and counting the buttons. Sure enough there’s twelve of them. I look up at him, frowning because there must be some secret way he knows this.
“What is this like all formal gowns have an average of twelve and you’ve gotten enough women out of them that you know, or what? How did you guess that well?”
“It’s not a guess. I counted them. At the reception. I remember because when I started getting drunk, I started calling them by the months in my head. The last one was December. Want to know why?” A ghost of a smirk plays over his lips.
“Because that’s the twelfth month?” I manage to find words despite the fact my jaw is practically on the floor.
“Because it was the last one and then I could finally unwrap you. In my drunken head, it was clever as fuck. Trust me.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out who this man was and how I knew so little about him. I raise an eyebrow when he grins.
“I was the worst best man in history, but if you’d gotten cold feet and wanted out, I would have made an excellent fucking getaway driver. Just depends on the perspective, you know.” He leans forward then and kisses me, softly at first and then with rougher strokes of his lips and tongue.
“Alex…” I say softly when he pulls away to let us catch our breath. I need more of him. The way he makes me forget everything but him.
He smirks when he sees my expression and then his lips run their way down my throat. I drop the bag holding the dress in the tub so I can run my fingers under his shirt, seeking the warmth of his skin against my palms.
“Because all I thought about when I watched you stand there saying your vows was if I could talk you out of it. If I could convince you—what vows I might be able to get you to say instead. If it’d be good enough to talk you out of finishing his.”
“Good enough?” I ask softly, my fingers still searching his skin as he talks.
“Then at the reception, I was still thinking about you. If I could undo those buttons fast enough, or I could pull that dress up around your hips and get on my knees, kiss this perfect fucking pussy and make you see reason. Make you leave him and pick me instead. Get you a quick annulment.” His hand slides between my legs, running his fingers over me through the fabric.
“What?” The word slips out on a sigh as I try to make sense of what he’s saying.
“Yeah. There was a secondary plan too. Steal you away, take you on that honeymoon I paid for, and—”
“Wait. Wait. What are you talking about?” My hand goes to his chest to pause him because I need to think. I need to process what he’s just said. All of it—any of it.
“That was my wedding present to you. He didn’t tell you? It wasn’t that hike, that saint’s walk you told me you wanted to do that first night. I knew he wouldn’t do that. But it was at least some of the cathedrals and museums you wanted to see.”
He nips at my lower lip and he’s so focused on kissing me that it’s distracting. I reach up and touch the side of his jaw with my hand, and he looks at me.
“I’m sorry… You’re saying you fantasized about fucking me at my wedding and then paid for my honeymoon?”
His eyes drift over my face for a minute before he speaks again.
“I paid for the honeymoon first. As a wedding present. I wanted to make sure you got to see some of that stuff you wanted to, and I didn’t think he’d be smart enough to do it. I also thought it would get my head on fucking straight when it came to you. Help me move on. Except then at the wedding…” He shrugs and his eyes lift to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’m a fucking bastard, I guess. I was good though, yeah? I didn’t act on any of it.”
“I wish you had.”
