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“I don't think we have telenova gowns,” the assistant whispered, still clearly gagging on the idea.
“Whatever you have that is closest, then,” Waters told him and he scurried off, back stiff with indignation.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling stupid.
Waters shrugged. “Anything for my bride,” he said.
I shot him a sharp glance. Was that... had that been a glimmer of self-reflection?
No. Couldn't be.
I didn't have time to analyze his comment, though, because the shop assistant came bustling back almost instantly, towing two dresses behind him. I took them and thanked him, and turned toward the dressing rooms, which were nestled in the back of the shop with a lovely little platform for e
xpectant brides to parade before their admiring public. I had no public. I wasn't even sure why I was trying dresses on, to be truthful. If Waters wanted to control what I was going to wear, he should have just gotten my measurements and been done with it.
My vague questions were quickly answered when Waters shouldered his way into the dressing room with me.
“Excuse me?” I said as he sidled inside. There was room, but it was supposed to be two women in here. And Waters seemed to take up so much more space than seemed possible by the physical limitations of his body. He loomed. He hulked. He was all I could think about. I clutched my Telenova dress in front of me and glared at him.
He sighed diffidently. “I thought you might require some assistance,” he said, as if his eyes weren't tracing over every inch of my body, staring straight through the armload of tulle I carried in front of me.
He was too close. The scent of his aftershave and, underneath that, the slight scent of man, delicately tempted my nose. We faced each other. My back was against the wall. The last time we had been in this position, we were on about minute five of our first meeting and his hands were already on my breasts. The memory rose, sudden and unbidden, and I pushed it down.
Green eyes glittered at me, and I knew he was remembering the same thing. Slowly, he licked his lips.
I swallowed and thrust the dress at him. “Here,” I managed to say, and started to undress.
He devoured me with his eyes. Every inch of skin revealed became fuel for the fire I saw building inside him. In his throat, breath rasped, and his body became taut as a bow.
I couldn't get enough air as my blouse slipped from my shoulders and my jeans slumped to the floor. I'd never felt so exposed. Standing there in my bra and panties, I felt as though he were studying my very bones. I wished he would reach out and grab me. I wished I could reach out and grab him.
He stood very still, watching me as my heartbeat began to race and my lips parted in anticipation.
“Lift your arms,” he instructed. “Close your eyes.”
Licking my lips, I did as he bade. There was a rustle of too much tulle and satin, and then he was dressing me in my bridal gown, sliding it over my head, guiding my arms through the off-the-shoulder sleeves. The skin of his fingertips was just the tiniest bit rough, and it sent my nerves dancing as they glided over the sensitive insides of my arms.
The thick material passed over my face, and he pulled it down.
“Turn,” he said.
I did.
Strong hands smoothed over my skin, arranging, plucking, settling. Then I felt the dress tighten and hear the hiss of the zipper as he slowly pulled it up.
The bodice became tight, tight, tighter, and I realized that the dress was a size too small. “Er,” I said, “I think I need a size up?”
“No,” he said, his voice thick. “No, I don't think you do.”
The bodice cinched me in tight, and by the time it was done I could barely breathe. Warm hands on my waist turned me around.
“You may open your eyes,” he said.
Oh, may I? I wanted to say, but I didn't. I wanted him to keep touching me, too, and those two desires were at odds.
I opened my eyes. The smile had returned to his lips. “You look... romantic,” he told me.
That... was probably not a good descriptor. “May I see?” I said, gesturing towards the door, and he obligingly moved out of my way. I exited and made my way up on the platform. Only then did I let myself look in the mirror.
