Page 21 of A Week To Wed
Not that I mind standing next to him while we wash up. The clean scent of his fresh shirt and aftershave makes me smile stupidly while we talk about wedding stuff.
When the last dish is dried and put up, I express how I hope I don’t need to cancel anything or get my deposit back because I’d lost all the paperwork today.
“Hold on. Stop right there.” Lincoln’s voice is kind but insistent, so I shut my mouth and wait.
I watch him disappear through the screen door, and all three dogs stand and pad over to see where he’s gone. Lincoln returns a moment later, carrying my binder. Stained and worse for wear, it’s looking ten times better than the last time I saw it.
“Lincoln. What did you do?”
He plops it on the kitchen table, and I hold my breath. I open the front cover and begin flipping through the pages. Almost everything is there. He salvaged nearly every single page and swatch and cutting. Every pink gown and satin shoe I’d cut out of magazines since I was 13. A lot of it is lumpy and stiff after having been wet and dried somehow, but—it is more or less saved.
I am done falling in love with this cowboy. I am now completely in love with him, and there is no going back.
“You…you…” My hand goes to my mouth.
“Oh no. No, you don’t. Don’t you dare cry.”
Of course, I’m not going to cry. I might dry hump him right here in front of the dogs.
Leaving the open binder on the table, I turn to find Lincoln standing over me.
“You,” I say again, my voice breaking.
His hand reaches up and rests low on my neck, his thumb grazing my nape. Chills run down my spine with every swipe of that thumb.
I roll up on the balls of my feet, cup his cheek, and kiss him tenderly on the lips. “I love what you did,” I murmur, my lips grazing against his as I speak.
Lincoln’s hand on my neck squeezes softly, and his other hand pulls me in close. “I’m sorry for being an idiot when you came looking for me. I’m sorry for not answering your questions. I should have taken the time to tell you that I trust you.”
The smile on my lips is teasing. “But you don’t know me. You don’t know my tastes….”
This provokes a laugh, and Lincoln hitches me closer, his body heat transferring to me, making me ache to get rid of this robe. “Oh, I think I know your tastes pretty well, princess.”
I don’t even take offense at the princess remark. He’s saying he gets me.
“And I trust you with whatever you want to do. Put me in a tutu, and I’ll be there, no questions asked.”
I laugh, and he laughs, the vibration sending shockwaves coursing through my body.
“Careful what you wish for, cowboy,” I murmur against his mouth as he returns my kisses.
He chuckles softly, pressing his face against the side of my neck. His warm breath makes me shiver with need.
“You know what I’m wishing for?” Lincoln asks.
The tent pole in his sweats jutting into my hip gives me a good indication of what he wishes for.
“What?” I whisper.
Lincoln backs away an inch. Just an inch, but it’s still too far. And then, I realize what he’s about to do. He takes the belt of my robe in both hands and unties the double knot, letting it fall loose at my sides. He doesn’t do anything else yet, just lets the belt fall away, then closes in to swipe that wicked tongue over my bottom lip.
“Lucky or unlucky, I’m wishing to see all of my bride before the wedding night,” Lincoln breathes into that spot where my neck meets my shoulder, then plants a long, wet kiss with teeth right there.
“Oh…ok,” is all I can manage to say.
I’m going to take that wish literally. I shimmy off the satiny robe, letting it fall to the kitchen floor.
Lincoln’s skin tightens around his jaw as his eyes take in the sight of my breasts for the first time.
