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I’m going to choose one of them. It doesn’t matter which one. Whichever one the girls like is the one I’ll say yes to. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. I just want everyone to be happy. Then I’m going to pick a cake, get my little makeover, and marry this man who has agreed to take me as his own.
ITCH
My hangover is bumpin’. My brain is pulsing, slamming against my skull with every fucking breath I take. Sitting at the bar, I forego beer and ask for water instead. I’m on my third bottle when the door to the clubhouse opens.
Turning my head, I watch as Reese, Henli, Kiplyn, and another woman walk through the door. It takes me too long to realize who it is. My brain doesn’t register immediately. It’s Piper. Except it doesn’t look anything like her. Staring, I watch as they move through the bar toward me.
Piper’s once brown hair is gone, in its place, shoulder-length platinum-blondish purple. It’s Piper.Fuck me, she looks like a goddamn wet dream. I knew she was beautiful, but in a girl next door kind of way. Now? She’s a whole new level. I didn’t think that changing hair could do so much, but fuck, fuck,fuckme.
The girls all make their way up to me, except Piper—she hangs back slightly. I stare at her. I’m not sure what the fuck else to do. She’s so goddamn smokin’ with her big round eyes and that fucking new hair of hers.
Standing, I ignore the way my head pounds. I could be half dead right now, and I would ignore whatever aches and pains I felt in my body just to get to her. The girls standing in front of her scatter.
Piper doesn’t move, her gaze fixated on mine and only mine, which is fine because she’s the only one I see right now, too. Not that her hair made that happen. Since I’ve met her, she’s been the only woman I see, even if she’s been out of reach until now.
Even if I am not the right man for her. Even though it’s taboo. It’s wrong. It’s forbidden, and yet, she will be mine. Right or wrong, she’s going to be fucking mine—forever.
“Hey,” I murmur.
She doesn’t say anything at all immediately. We both stand in the middle of the bar, staring at one another, and as much as I want to throw her over my shoulder, take her into my room, and fuck her instantaneously, I don’t. I control myself. Though it’s goddamn hard to do in this moment—almost as hard as my cock.
Lifting my arm, I pinch some of her hair between my fingers and rub it gently. “It’s soft,” I murmur.
“Do you hate it?” she asks on a whisper.
It’s sexy as fuck.
“No,” I murmur. “I don’t hate anything about it, but why?”
Dropping my hand, I clear my throat, but I do not step away from her. I’m probably standing a little too close, but I don’t care. I want to be close to her, to smell her, to touch her, to taste her.
I feel like a fucking teenager right now as I position myself in front of her silently begging for her to speak to me.
“Reese,” she whispers, “said I needed a mini-makeover.”
I snort. She would say that. I think Reese just wanted a live doll to play with and knew she could get away with playing with Piper. Reaching out again, I extend my index finger and slide it across her jaw before I trace her lips.
“It’s beautiful. Just like you, babe.”
Her cheeks tint pink, and I can’t help but smile at that. Can’t remember when I turned a girl’s cheeks color last, unless it was me slapping her ass ones. “You get all your shit handled?”
“I have a dress,” she rasps. “I picked a cake, but I can change the flavor if you don’t like what I chose.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I murmur.
“Chocolate,” she says.
“Good.”
We stare at one another for another long moment before she clears her throat. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Hell if I know what needs to be done for a wedding, but since it’s in two weeks and here at the clubhouse, I highly doubt there is going to be much fanfare. I don’t tell her that, though; instead, I give her a small smile.
“It’ll all be good, babe,” I say, attempting to reassure her.
I should ask her if she’s cool with everything, if she’s doing okay, but I don’t. It wouldn’t matter. Her fate is sealed. This is her future, and she doesn’t have a choice in it. That thought should bother me a lot more than it does.
Her lips curve up into a small smile, and she dips her chin, looking down at her shoes.
