by Dee Palmer
“No, he’s snowed at work, and he knows I’ll be busy with the last minute bits. I told him that we are both at the spa in the morning, so he’s just going to catch a ride with Daniel and Bethany. It’s better that way or he’ll just sulk that I’m ignoring him. And they say we’re the needy ones,” she scoffs, and we both laugh.
“Thank you for everything, Sofs.” My voice softens and I reach over to grab her hand. I hope she can hear the shit-ton of gratitude in those few words because I’m so unbelievably grateful. As rushed as this is, she has gone above and beyond to make it completely magical and perfect.
“My pleasure honey, and anytime you want to share why the big rush, I am all ears.” Her tone is leading, and her expression is piqued with eager interest at my response.
“Jason didn’t tell you?” My eyes briefly meet hers before returning to the empty road.
“Nope. He just said he was done waiting, and could I sort it for this weekend. I spat my drink out at the time when I realized he wasn’t joking. Man, he looks sexy as hell when he’s serious—lethal.” Her breath escapes, and she places her hand on her chest.
“You can say that again,” I mutter, and I can almost feel the increase in her heartbeat because it mirrors mine.
“He said if I couldn’t do it, he’d just take you to the town hall as soon as you landed. That was pretty much like laying down the gauntlet for a romantic like me.” She sniffs derisively.
“And you don’t think he knew this?” I quirk a curious brow and bite my smirk flat between my teeth.
“Hmm? Ooooh, he’s good. I didn’t consider that.” Her eyes widen and she shakes off any irritation at being played by my beloved, not that I honestly think there was any real irritation to begin with. “No matter. I love a challenge, and if I do say so myself, I have excelled.” She sits up as best she can in the racing bucket seat and puffs out with rightly deserved pride. “But I’m not going to toot my horn until you have given it the all clear.”
“Oh toot away, Sofs. I couldn’t and wouldn’t have chosen anything different. It’s perfect, like you read my mind, which is a little creepy.”
“Jason was very specific.” She gives me a knowing smile.
“Of course he was,” I mutter as a smile spreads wide across my sleepy face. Sofia turns in her seat, and it takes me a moment to realize she is waiting for an answer to her passive question. I snort out a laugh. It’s early and my brain isn’t really awake.
“I’m pregnant.” I flinch and shrink down at the shrill cry that fills the car.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Her excitement is like a physical friendly slap on the back, her bright smile and clasped hands barely contain her joy. I’m completely blown away. I don’t think I have allowed myself to feel a fraction of this, not even at the scan. She claps her hands rapidly unable to contain her enthusiasm a moment longer. “Oh my God, Sam, that’s fantastic. Congratulations! Oh my God, you are going to have the most gorgeous baby.” I laugh, letting some of the pent up tension I permanently seem to carry ease. But the respite is brief because it’s there, under the surface, lurking. I return her smile even if mine is tempered. “Do you have a picture?”
“Sore point, but no is the short answer. The scanner wasn’t working properly the first time, and they couldn’t get an accurate image. When I went the next day, the printer wasn’t working. They were very apologetic and were going to send the pictures as soon as the machine was fixed. I sort of hoped I would have them by now.” I hate that something as genuine as a technical problem makes me anxious. I draw in a steadying breath. “It’s really early days, Sofs, just a couple of weeks, and I have history which—” My voice catches and she instantly reaches across the car to press her hand firmly against my knee. “We’re not telling anyone yet.” I manage to give her a fraction of my story, and her eyes fill with understanding and more.
“I get it, I do. I’m sure you’ll be fine, and the pregnancy will be fine.” She conveys genuine comfort with her tiny grip and flashes a wide, confident smile. “You’re like this Amazonian goddess. I’ve never known anyone stronger than you, Sam. You’ve got this.” She nods, stating her declaration with absolute certainty. I hope so.
The remainder of the journey is wedding talk and a little more wedding talk. When we arrive at Katie’s bridal boutique I’m bubbling with excitement even if it is just after seven in the morning. Katie unlocks the door and is bouncing on her toes when we enter the shop. Her genuine, sweet smile gives me comfort that she is not in the least pissed to be opening up at this unGodly hour.
“I have coffee and croissants but let’s get you fitted first.” Katie’s voice is elevated with excitement as she ushers us inside. We are hit with a wave of warm air, a welcome reprieve from the bitter morning breeze that whips around the courtyard of the shops like a mini tornado. I stand under the blast from the heater until my shivers have subsided and only then lose my coat.
“Sounds good.” Sofia rubs her arms to get some warmth as I’m hogging the heat and jumps in my place the instant I step away.
“No coffee for me though. Maybe a mint tea if you have it.” My head may crave the caffeine hit but my stomach rolls with disapproval.
“Or hot chocolate?” Katie offers.
“Hmm, yes one of those.” I start to strip, eager to try on my dress and more excited for the chocolate. Now my tummy is rumbling at the very thought of sweet, liquid sustenance and buttery goodness of the aforementioned croissant.
“Okay, just so you know though, I’m not so much letting the steam from a cup in this room until the dress is packed back away,” Katie warns whilst reaching up to unzip the protective plastic from the gown hanging on a high hook by the large, gilt mirror. Sofia has positioned the modesty panel across the doorway, although there isn’t a soul around, but I’m in my boy-shorts and cupping my boobs, so it’s probably for the best.
“Hmm, you might need to lose the shorts too.” Katie’s brow wrinkles with thought. “Drop to a squat, and I’ll slip it over the top first. I happen to think those will ruin the line though.” She holds the delicate material open for me to thread my arms through, and I stand and shimmy to let the silky lace material glide down my body. I squeeze and pull my boobs through the narrow waist but where the bodice should kiss the swell of my breasts, it’s stuck in an angry stretch that if I take a deep breath will definitely rip. I don’t need to take a shocked breath because Katie and Sofia do it for me.
“Oh!” Katie gasps in horror, and I stand transfixed and only puffing in tiny amounts of air, conscious of the tension in the lace and silk across my chest. I try to move when Katie’s worried voice halts me. “No, don’t move, honey! Let me ease this off.” Her fingers slide against my skin and I let out more air to shrink enough for her to slip the material free. I don’t know whether it’s the early start, the hormones, and every other little thing, but this…this is the one that breaks me. I crumple into a sad heap and fold over, crossed legged and head in my hands, stupid tears soaking my hands and running down my arms. Sofia is at my side, her arm over my shoulders.
“It’s all right, honey, we’ll find another dress.” She tries to comfort me. I feel like the most spoilt brat on the planet and that just makes me sob harder. I don’t want another dress…that was my dress. Long minutes drag and the silence is filled with sporadic hiccups and soggy sniffles. I’m still mostly naked on the carpeted shop floor, and however warm the room is, it’s not that warm, and I start to shiver. Katie drapes a large soft blanket over me and half over Sofia. She drops to her haunches in front of me.
“I can try to fix this, Sam.” Her hand brushes my hair from my face, damp tendrils slick with tears resist. She manages to scrape enough back to see my sorry-looking face. Her smile is tentative at best.
“How?” I swallow the lump in my sore throat and wipe my cheeks dry.
“Get dressed and let’s have that chocolate. Everything feels better with chocolate.” She and Sofia help me up and manhandle me back into my cloth
es. I feel sick and numb when I’m fully dressed and sit down on the small love seat. I take the steaming mug that Katie offers. “The lace is imported but there is another designer in London that shares my supplier, so I will call her at nine and see if she has any in stock. If she does, I will get it couriered here, and I will add two discrete panels at the side which should accommodate the…” She hesitates and her eyes dip to my bust.
“Massive boobs.” I help her out, and she quirks her lips to give a sympathetic smile. I let out a deep breath. “This can’t be happening. I haven’t gained any weight. How are my boobs suddenly wanting their own area code?”
“They’re not that big, Sam.” Sofia still has her arms across my shoulders, and she nudges me, her face now happily hopeful after Katie’s contingency plan.
“There are a lot of ifs in that sentence.” I don’t share her optimism, which is understandable, I have just had the arse kicked out of my fairy tale, so am tinged with more than a little doom and gloom.
“Yes, there are, but if I can, I will.” Katie states sternly, and I try for the first smile since I was hit with this couture crisis. “But,” she adds with equal emphasis, “in the meantime why don’t we try on some of my other designs. If worst comes to the worst there are five bridal shops in this town. I can promise you will be leaving today with one wedding dress that fits,” she assures me, but my heart sinks.
“I want one of yours,” I add like a sullen, petulant child. This is supposed to be my big day, and I feel a little upset is justified.
“I want that to. Let’s eat and then I’ll make the call.” She pushes a fat, flaky croissant onto a small plate and hands it to me. I take it, and even though I’m hungry, I hesitate. Will this go straight to my boobs too? Sofia takes the plate Katie offers her and nudges my arm.
“Moment on the lips…nine months on the boobs,” she leans in to whisper, and I let out a final breath of exasperation. It’s just a dress. The sexiest, most stunning dress I’m ever likely to wear, but it’s still just a dress. I rest my hand on my tummy, letting the hysteria dissolve and appreciate I have something much more precious, that apparently requires bigger boobs.
The sun had sunk low in the winter sky by the time the courier arrived, and Katie has been working flat out for three hours to make the adjustments. She was a fucking miracle worker because when I stood before the mirror hours later, I could see no difference. The dress hung low and sensually clung to my curves, the delicate material fitted perfectly, and I wasn’t the only one weeping when I did my final twirl.
“Thank you so much for this, Katie. I can’t believe you did this.” The dress is packed away, and Katie hands the sheathed dress over to Sofia’s waiting arms.
“Felt like I was on that television show The Sewing Bee for a moment with the minutes ticking. I’m so glad you’re happy. I would’ve been gutted if I’d had to send you off to someone else. This design was made for you, even with the little adjustment. Congratulations, by the way.” She holds my gaze, and I feel the heat in my cheeks.
“How did—” I stutter, and she snorts and waves her hand as if I’m being ridiculous.
“Oh please. You are not the first pregnant bride, and you won’t be the last, but I can say this: You will be the most stunning.”
“Ah I bet you say that to all your brides.”
She zips her lips and winks. “I’ll want pictures for my website!” She calls out as we go to leave and then rushes over to give me a slightly awkward hug.
“Oh yeah, sure, of course.” My hands are full with bags, but I’m not a hugger, so I do this lean and pat thing that seems to placate her and makes Sofia laugh. She waves us off and continues to wave until we have walked the length of the courtyard and turned the corner.
“She’s seen you naked yet personal space is an issue for you?” Sofia quips as we make our way back to the car.
“Many people have seen me naked. Intimacy is not the same as nudity. As sweet as she is, she’s still a stranger and I don’t go round hugging strangers.” I clarify and Sofia shrugs lightly.
“I’m a hugger, even so, I can count on one hand the number of people that have seen me in my birthday suit and that includes my mum and dad.” She grins, and as if to prove a point, she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me into a sideways hug as we continue to walk. I don’t mind; she’s far from a stranger, and much more like a best friend.
We pull up the winding gravel drive just before midnight. It’s difficult to see the place because there’s absolutely no street lighting or neighbouring buildings illuminating the surrounding area. The front of the hotel has a warm, welcoming glow on the porch. We are both utterly exhausted, and I believe for us, this place looks like a mirage. I called Jason when we left Katie’s shop, but the traffic has been one long never-ending snake of red taillights. A journey that should’ve taken just over three hours has taken close to six. I have missed the dinner with the in-laws and a chance to unwind, and I’m even too tired to be tense about it. All I want to do is cuddle up in the arms of someone who really isn’t going to care if I look like shit, because I know he’s seen me look much worse. The night manager checks us in and informs us that the wedding party all retired to their rooms some time ago. Lucky bastards.
I am tempted to wake Jason, but since Sofia scowled and gave me the ‘bad luck’ lecture, I posted a note under his door. Too tired to be eloquent, the note simply read, ‘I love you’. I skulked off to my own room, the Honeymoon Suite, at the far end of the corridor, away from the other guests, and in record time, I have climbed between the heavenly sheets. Bliss.
Oh God that feels good. I stretch out on my back and unashamedly spread my legs wide. It’s a dream and I have no shame. This is the best bit, I claw my fingers into his thick hair and pull him to just where I need him. Grinding my hips and moaning loudly…absolutely no shame. “Make me come.” He growls that sexy, throaty sound tinged with menace, he’s not a fan of being told what to do, lucky for me, this will help. “Please, Sir.” I pull his hair, and my back arches high off the bed when his tongue drags hard and heavy over my most sensitive centre, again and again. Strong hands push the tops of my thighs so wide I feel the painful stretch in my muscles. Oh lord that tongue is relentless and perfectly distracting. Waves of pleasure start to ripple from my toes, tiny at first but building and creeping up my body, gaining momentum with every swipe and swirl. His breath is like a burst of flames at my core yet it’s me that’s on fire. My skin tingles with heat. My blood sizzles, and I dissolve with molten ecstasy at his skillful touch. He slides two fingers inside, and I scream with shock as my orgasm rips through me. Holy shit! He didn’t even curl and pump those fellas. I tremble and smile to myself, even in my dreams he’s just that good.
I jolt when a heavy hand covers my mouth and every muscle in my body contracts in panic as I buck, struggle, and fight to break free.
“Hey, hey, calm down.” His deep, soft timbre does calm me instantly, and I shudder with the speed at which my body goes from utter terror to safely pliant at his voice.
“Mmmason,” I mumble under his hefty palm. He lifts it free, and I squint up in the darkness as he hovers half over my body, his torso wedged between my spread thighs. “Jason?” I repeat the question, which sounds stupid now that I have.
“Who did you think it was licking you into oblivion exactly?” His eyes narrow, gleaming with wickedness. The room is still dark, although the light from the en suite casts enough of a glow for me to see him clearly, all dark and devilish, sexy as all hell with piercing eyes and soft full lips that are now very, very wet.
“I thought I was dreaming. Kiss me.” I sigh and thread my hand around his neck to pull him closer.
“Was it me in your dreams, beautiful?” His husky voice is clipped, and his face flashes with something dark, uncertain. I don’t hesitate, sitting up as much as I can I clasp both hands around his neck.
“Only ever you.” I crush my lips to his, and I hope he can feel the truth. Only e
ver him. He takes my offering and returns it with passion tenfold, urgent and ravenous. His tongue dives and invades my mouth, my tastes coats him as he consumes me. We duel and tussle, claw and grab at each other like we’re starved creatures, barely human, with raw animal desire, and just like that time on the beach, something switches in me, and that burn for more becomes too tempting to ignore…too delicious…too dangerous.
“You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.” I break the kiss and push away as much as his weight will allow. I try to scissor my legs closed. He pauses for a moment, searching my eyes. My voice is serious and my face even more so, but if he looks hard enough he will see the fire in my gaze. This is a very fine line I’m leading him along, and it’s only that I trust him with my soul that I feel safe enough to play with that fire, a fire his eyes now recognize.
“Make me.”
It’s like a touch paper being lit, and I explode beneath him. The force of the move and sharp twist in my body takes him by surprise, and I manage to scramble out from under his body and slip to the edge of the bed. He wraps a hand around my ankle and swiftly drags me back across the sheet, planting a sound slap on my arse cheek and laughing at my futile attempt to escape. Oh I’m mad now. I kick my legs, and once again, I’m free. This time, I’m quick and leap from the bed and race toward the bathroom. I only make it two strides across the room. He’s like my shadow, instantly at my back. He grabs my arm and spins me against his chest, stepping me hard and fast against the wall. I grunt, breathless at the impact, and he steps back and freezes, his hands held up in surrender.
Not what I was expecting in the cat and mouse game of rough resistance play.
“I can’t, Sam.” His broken tone and soft words slice me. He shakes his head and steps up to me softening the rejection that must be plastered on my face. “Not because I don’t want to…fuck look how much I want to.” His eyes dip and mine follow his line of sight to the most painful looking erection straining against his abdomen. “You are the fucking sexiest woman alive but I can’t play this game…not right now. What if I hurt you?” His question feels rhetorical and sounds like a plea.
