Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
She glows like the moon.
“I get to see you model them,” I tell Hattie. “All of them. So I can help you choose.”
She flushes. “That’s not very traditional. The groom isn’t supposed to see the dress before the wedding day.”
“Pages, nothing about this ‘marriage’ is traditional and you know it. So show me.”
She bites her bottom lip as she nods slowly.
And fuck me, I know I should keep my distance. I shouldn’t watch her pose and twirl in an expensive dress for both of our sakes, but I can’t help myself.
It’s not like tradition matters much. I said it myself.
Gramps took a sledgehammer to anything normal about this when he decided to force me into a wedding pact with my little sister’s best friend.
Soon enough, I’ll go back to only seeing her in public, so the chance of me losing my mind over her won’t be an issue then.
Why the hell does that bother me?
I sit and scroll through emails on my phone while Hattie disappears into my bedroom, accompanied by all the ladies.
I wonder what’s taking so long.
At last, the door creaks open.
Hattie’s hair is tied up into a neat knot, leaving her shoulders bare. She’s wearing a cloud.
It’s a full-skirted, lacy, traditional wedding beast.
Sure, it’s pretty, and she looks good in it, but she’d look good in a paper sack as long as it hugs her curves. Diamanté glitters around the bodice, sleek and shiny and modern.
I tilt my head, noticing the hesitation in her eyes.
She’s not sure about it.
Fine.
If she’s not comfortable, I don’t want her wearing it.
“No,” I say authoritatively. Relief flutters across her face. “I’m not sold on you showing that much skin, knowing there’ll be cameras everywhere. Try something more traditional.”
She looks down at herself, tracing some of the lace on her stomach.
“The girls say it’s a statement dress.”
“Statement? It says Vegas strip club.” I lower my voice. “But that’s not the point. Is it even comfortable?”
She takes a few seconds, mulling it over. “No.”
“Then pick something else. They only have a hundred other choices.”
She gives me a quick, hesitant smile. “Okay. Thanks, Ethan.”
“Welcome, Pages.”
Her smile reaches her eyes for a second, then she disappears back in the room. I’m left to twiddle my thumbs until she shows me the next dress.
Chiffon this time.
A smooth, full skirt that gleams in the light. It’s less decorative, but the pinned waist and flowing skirt just doesn’t quite suit her.
“No good?” she asks, correctly reading my expression.
“Nah. Better, though. More you.”
Her face screws up. “What would you know about me, Ethan?”
“When I see it, I’ll know.”
“Fine.” Waving her fingers, she disappears into the room again.
This time, she takes so long that I think they must be having some kind of wardrobe malfunction. But when she finally steps back into view, my brain shuts off.
Holy fuck.
This dress looks molded to her, hugging every curve I’ve done my best not to think about since that kiss on the beach.
The lace bodice is partly sheer, revealing pale skin, dipping low to show off soft, suckable breasts.
The mermaid-style dress skims her hips and flows down her thighs. Small waist, rounded hips.
Fuck.
I’m almost delirious with the need to touch her, to get it off, to peel away that dress and see what’s hiding underneath.
It’s modest, though, showing just enough to make me thirst for more.
“Well? What do you think?” she asks when I don’t say anything. “Do you hate it? I think Mom will kill me if I show up in this.”
“Forget your mother.” My voice is so rough I need to clear it. “That’s the one. Search over.”
“Really?” She smooths a hesitant hand down her waist. “Do you think—”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely no doubt?”
In my head? Yes.
But my cock screams no.
“None. It’ll do you justice, Pages. It fits your shape, without being blinding or giving away too much.”
Her green eyes meet mine.
Something flares in them that makes me shift in my chair. Against my will and better judgment, my cock rises.
“Okay, I’ll… I’ll tell them.” She swallows and nods.
“You can try on the rest if you want, but that’s what I want to marry you in.” My voice is unintentionally gruff. Probably because I’m speaking insanity.
Yet I still can’t look away.
Her nostrils flare and she nods one final time.
The moment she’s gone, I drop my face into my hands.
Stupid, stupid man.
This Jekyll and Hyde attraction is out of control.
That’s what I want to marry you in?
Who am I turning into?
I don’t have time for more complications, let alone the self-inflicted kind.
She’s my baby sister’s best friend and we’re not just doing this for kicks, much less love.
No matter how I tried to make up for it, she’s also the girl I teased relentlessly when we were kids.
Not a girl I can fuck anytime this century.
Only, she’s getting naked in my room. That’s where my mind keeps going. The thought of ripping that dress off her and marking up what’s underneath.