It feels like the blood vanishes from my veins.
“Everything okay?”
I jump for a second, surprised by West’s voice, but then it becomes my turn to stare, rendered speechless at the sight of him in his suit. His dark hair is pushed back, the slight waves looking soft and effortless, and oh so tempting to run my fingers through. His beard has been slightly trimmed, but it’s still thick as it lines his square jaw and frames his lips. His round shoulders fill out the beige linen suit jacket to perfection, and his broad chest looks even fuller where it stretches out the pale blue shirt. The top button is undone, and I can see just a hint of his chest hair. He cleans upnice.
“Mae? You okay?”
“You look good.” Oh dear god, I think drool just slipped out.
I run over to my bag, collecting my clutch for the night and tossing my phone inside. “Ah, yeah. Everything’s good. I was just chatting to Presley.”
Warm hands land on my hips, and my heart nosedives.
“Your zipper’s not all the way up,” West says over my shoulder. “Did you need help?” My stomach clenches because he doesn’t say it in a cheesy, pick-up line kind of way. He asks it sweetly, like he just wants to help and take care of me.
“You’re always like this, aren’t you?” I turn my head so I can look up at him.
“Like what?”
That’s a good question. What are all the things that make Westley him? “Kind. Considerate.”
“I try to be.” He chuckles. “Your zip?”
“Yes, please. If you wouldn’t mind.”
His hands move behind my back, and I feel the fabric pinch together. “Not at all.”
The slow, dragging sound of the zipper fills the room along with my pulse as it floods through my ears. The warmth of Westley’s chest is so close against my back, and I have the desperate urge to sink into it.
“All done.”
I turn around, smoothing a hand over the skirt of my dress. “Do I look okay? This isn’t too much, is it? I should probably have mentioned earlier that I’ve never been to a wedding before.” My fingers fiddle with my bangles, and my stomach swirls. “You’re probably starting to think I’m kinda weird. There’s so much I haven’t done that feels so normal for so many people.”
Westley stops the runaway train of thoughts spewing from my mouth with a hand under my chin, tilting it towards him so he can look me in the eyes.
“You’re perfect.” For a moment, it feels like the whole world stops and fades into nothingness. Like the sun is orbiting around Westley and me, binding this moment in history.
I’m not sure what’s going on. All I know is that when Westley’s thumb runs back and forth along my skin, it doesn’t feel like he’s leaving a mark upon it, but beneath it.
When we made this arrangement, it was meant to be fake. Temporary. It wasn’t meant to mess with my head. It definitely wasn’t meant to feel likethis.
22
It’s been four hours, and I can barely remember much of this wedding. Since we started our arrangement, I haven’t really had an opportunity to touch Maevyn, to study her the way I felt drawn to. Now that the time has come, it’s like I can’t keep my hands off her. My thumb runs back and forth over the soft skin of her shoulder, right over that tattoo I love to look at.
She took my damn breath away when she stepped out of the bathroom earlier. Her dark hair was styled in effortless waves that sat just past her shoulders. Her big brown eyes looked even more hypnotising, lined in black and dusted with a shimmering bronze shadow. Her plump lips were painted in a cool toffee colour, looking good enough to devour.
Then I saw her in that dress. A muted green satin with burnt orange flowers all over it. The tiniest little straps sat over her shoulders, and a bow was tied between her breasts, making them perk up in a way that was far too enticing. A little cut-out exposed the skin above her belly button, showing off her toned stomach, a line dipping right down the centre, begging for my tongue. The dress cinched in at her waist and highlighted her full hips. I’ve never seen anyone more stunning.
“Maevyn, how old is your daughter?” one of the wives at our table asks.
“She’s twelve.” Maevyn smiles.
“Gosh, you don’t look old enough to have a twelve-year-old! You must tell me your secrets.”
“I was quite young when I became a mum.” Maevyn laughs it off, but I can hear underneath the words how many times she’s had to say them.
I squeeze her shoulder. “Aurora earned a scholarship to Heart City Secondary College through the drama program, and she’s in the Applied English program.”
