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“What does it look like? Tell me now,” I command eagerly.
“Like hell I will. It’s bad luck,” she rebukes.
I shake my head. “No, no, you got it wrong. It’s if Iseeyou in it before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” I plead my defense. “So tell me. Better yet, do you have a picture of you not wearing it?”
Josephine sighs. “You’ll have to wait. It’s being rushed over from a different vendor who has it in the right size. It should be in next week.”
Dammit.
“What about the fake dress?” I ask, still envisioning the real one.
“I found it today, too. The seamstress was in today when Opal and I picked it out, and she was able to take all the fitting measurements. I go next week for the final fitting, and if all is good, it comes home with me.”
“Good.”
“Before I go to my next fitting, you should talk to Lorenzo’s men,” she says, looking back at her phone.
I’m suddenly alarmed. “Why?”
Josephine rolls her eyes in frustration. “They’re getting a little—what’s the word?—restless,I guess. They pretty much harass all the construction workers on-site who come near me, which is bad enough. The crew knows what’s going on and tolerates it. But today when Opal and I came out of the wedding boutique, one of Lorenzo’s personal bodyguards, Tiny Tony, was hauling this man out of his van. He pulled his gun on him and interrogated him about his California license plate and why he was carrying a camera. The poor guy was practically crying when he explained he was on vacation.”
Groaning, I rub my hand down my face.Fucking Lorenzo and his hounds.They did the same shit to a delivery driver who came to the property this week too. “I’ll have Gauge reach out to Lorenzo.”
“Thank you, future hubby,” she purrs, which goes straight to my loins.
Looking for a distraction, I pick up one of several wedding bags scattered about and peer inside.
Josephine snatches it away. “Nope! No peeking.”
“Is it for the real wedding or the fake wedding?” I ask, greedy to get a better look at what I saw in the shopping bag.
Josephine pauses. “The fake wedding,” she admits, finally.
“Then it doesn’t matter.” With a winning smirk, I yank the bag back and pull out what I had only caught a quick glance of. I hold the silk garter between my fingers.
At first, I’m super turned on to see this lacy white piece of material, but I frown. “I know we agreed to do some things for appearance’s sake, but I sure as hell won’t let Jacob get close enough to see what you have under your dress.”
Josephine shrugs. “If I don’t wear it for this fake wedding, you may want to keep it for practice.”
My brows pull together. “Practice?”
“Mm-hm. You know, practice. Pulling it off my thigh with your teeth for the garter toss,” Josephine says, pinning away on Pinterest.
Come again?!Using my teeth anywhere near her thigh sounds right up my alley, and acts like an electrical current straight to my junk.
Grinning, I sink to my knees in front of the bunk, grabbing hold of her leg and sliding the garter up her thigh.
Josephine looks shocked. “What are you doing?”
“Practicing,” I answer with a roguish grin, my head working between her thighs closer to her hot center. I nip at her mound through the thin fabric of her panties, making her to buck her hips in my face.
The bedroom door swings open and Punk saunters in. He takes stock of my face full between her thighs.
“Oh, fuck!” Punk shouts, spinning around and slamming the door shut, before pleading on the other side. “I swear to God, I didn’t see anything, Atlas. Don’t fucking rip my dick off, please!”
I bark out a laugh from between Josephine’s legs. Josephine reprimands me with a shoulder slap.
“It’s okay, Punk. There’s nothing going on. Come on back in,” Josephine apologizes. My pixie tries to push me away, but instead I straighten up on my knees and remain situated between her slender thighs. It’s where I’m fucking meant to be, and I have no intentions on budging.
