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“You’re still wearing the dress.”
Right.
She groaned, thinking the tattered lacy thing made her look more like the creepy beating heart bride at Disney World.
Montgomery traced his hands along her curves, caressing featherlight fingers up her spine, kissed her, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
She looked down at herself and grinned. She was now wearing the pristinely white, free of green apple Schnapps stains, 1912 fashion gown she wore to the ball.
She gazed up at him lovingly and brushed her fingers over his mustache. “You’re going to be impossible to live with, you know.”
Montgomery pulled her close, rasping against her lips.
“Then you better get used to me,” he growled. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
