He blinked. No one said anything about him wearing a tuxedo. “Wearing a tux wasn’t part of the deal. I was thinking more along the lines of a button-down and jeans. I’ll even make sure they’re clean.” He smiled, but it fizzled once she turned and continued to the other side of the street.
“Shit!” He darted after her, waving to a car that stopped to let him cross. He caught up to her just as she pushed through the glass door into the shop.
“There you two are.” Gayla, a fifty-something woman who always wore large hoop earrings, greeted them. “How did things go over at the flower shop?”
“Lilacs. That’s what Urban picked out,” Presley said.
Gayla gave him a smile. “I must say, it’s wonderful seeing you two getting married. I didn’t even know you were an item, but then again, these days who knows. Now, what do you two have in mind? A color scheme?”
“Do you sell western button downs in here? How about with pearl buttons?” he asked.
Gayla had a blank stare.
“He’s only kidding.” Presley shot him a look that said, “Behave.” He shrugged. “Since our flowers will be lilac, we should stay within the purple range.”
“Purple?” Urban sputtered. “Purple doesn’t look good on me—doesn’t look good on any man.”
Presley winced. “Are you going to be like this all day? I say one thing and you say another?”
“Probably,” he mumbled.
“I have something for you to try on, Urban.” Gayla waved for him to follow. “A man your height and build looks amazing in a back tux. We can give you a pop of color.”
“A pop is something I might agree to.”
*****
Presley sat down in the overstuffed chair facing the fitting room and smiled. A part of her found satisfaction in rubbing Urban the wrong way. It deserved him right after he took her dad’s side over hers. Although they hadn’t gotten far in the preparations, surely it would have been easier to get hitched in front of the judge and call it a day, but Urban wanted a more traditional ceremony so fine.
She’d never been one of those girls who had her wedding planned at the age of ten, all the way down to the color of the flowers and the shoes she would wear. So, this was all a bit overwhelming for her and if she had to suffer, she’d definitely make Urban suffer too. They had less than three weeks to plan and prepare for the big day.
Back at the flower shop she hadn’t really cared what flower or color they chose, but Urban had caught her by surprise. He didn’t know much about florae or what was suitable for a wedding, but when he’d picked out the lilacs and compared them to her eyes, she had to admit, she felt a little fuzzy in her chest. Knowing he only did it because he wanted to get out of the shop and had faked the feeling some, yet still, having a sexy cowboy make a romantic comment could even make a tough girl like herself swoon…some.
“Sweet?” Gayla held a tray of delicious-looking treats.
“Sure.” Presley chose one of the small chocolate desserts and bit into the delicious confection, relishing in the sweet cream.
The curtain swished back on the fitting room and she almost choked on the eclair. Spitting it out onto the napkin, she wiped her mouth, keeping her gaze steady on the cowboy as he stepped out.
“Still not feeling the purple,” he mumbled, tugging at the bright tie anxiously.
He looked…well, amazing. Handsome. Debonair. He’d lost his hat in the fitting room and his thick ebony hair was a mass of waves that touched the collar of the jacket. His eyes were shining and the shadow of a day-old beard made his look warrior-like. “I like it.” Her voice squeaked and she cleared her throat, making her way across to where he stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. The wobbling in her knees didn’t make it easy.
“Let me help.” She motioned for him to turn to face her.
He did and she caught a whiff of leather and musk cologne, making her stomach do flips. Swallowing, she forced her mind back on track and not visualizing removing each layer of clothing from his body on their honeymoon night. Her cheeks warmed and her body quivered. With shaky fingers, she adjusted the tie and smoothed her hands down the silk length, but only focusing on his hard chest underneath the thin shirt.
“You look great,” she said.
“I’m thinking maybe we should go back to the flower shop and pick another flower,” he groaned, yet his smile was resurfacing on his nice lips.
“Maybe we can compromise because we’re not going back into that flower shop. We have a busy Saturday ahead of us and need to take care of all these things I have on my list.”
“If I may, I have an idea.” Gayla stepped up. “Since the groom is against wearing purple, may I suggest a gray suit, which would look great on you too, Urban.” Her cheeks flushed. “And this color of tie. Not quite purple.” She held up a silk tie that was a dusty shade of lilac, but pale so that it wasn’t overwhelming.
“I’m in,” Urban said.
“I think we’ll go with your suggestion, Gayla.”
“How many groomsmen will you be having, Urban? They can come in and I will size them,” Gayla waited.
Urban became very quiet.
Presley sighed. “We’re planning something small.” She worked her bottom lip. “But you’ll need a best man.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You don’t know who you’ll have as best man?” Gayla laid her hand against her chest. “The days are numbered and you haven’t decided on the most important things.”
“My brothers and I are all the same size, give or take a few pounds. We’ll take two of these and I’ll pick a best man later. Easy.” Urban winked and Gayla swayed slightly.
Presley bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Urban had a way with the ladies, she could only wonder how many were going to be disappointed that one more Jericho would be off the market?
Stop right there, girl.
She needed to keep realty in sight. Although she and Urban were getting married, it wasn’t like it was a permanent situation. They’d agreed they would divorce…eventually, and talking things over, setting the details in stone, would be best for both of them in the long run. No messy or surprised situations.
“I’m getting out of this. The fabric’s making me itch,” he muttered.
A few minutes later, she heard him call, “I need some help in here.”
Looking around, she didn’t see hide nor hair of Gayla. Strolling to the curtain, she started to say something but a hand snaked out and dragged her in. She came face to face with a smiling Urban. His eyes danced in the light from above. The small changing room was covered in floor to ceiling mirrors and at every angle she could see his body. Nice. She brought her chin higher, meeting his dazzling gaze. “I thought you said you needed help?”
“I do.”
“Now what if I would have been poor Gayla? You would have given her a fainting spell.”
He laughed. “I could see your shadow through the curtain. Gayla is at least six inches taller than you and I could hear your footsteps.”
“Oh, really? You think you’re that good, huh?” She crossed her arms over her stomach, more to settle the butterflies than anything. “Since this was a trick, I’ll leave you alone.” She started to turn, but he caught her by the wrists, his callused fingers bleeding a new warmth into her skin and bloodstream.
“I really do need help. This jacket is too small and I don’t want to rip the damn thing when I pull it off.”
He let go of her wrists and her body screamed for his touch back. Giving herself a mental shake, she nodded. “Turn and I’ll help you.” He did as requested, and she helped drag the jacket off his wide shoulders and thick arms, then placed it back on the hanger.
“What did you do? Double knot this sum’bitch?” He was struggling with the tie.
She chuckled. “No. I can tell you don’t get dressed up often,” she teased. “Come here.” He stepped closer and she was pleasantly accosted by his wond
erful masculine scent. The space became smaller and his smile became larger. Her world turned on its axis. She could easily come unglued right there on the laminate floor.
With quivering fingers, she tugged at the silk, easily pulling the flaps free, but not before her fingers had brushed his chest for a second time within minutes.
“Aw, thank you.” His face was within inches now.
Alarm bells sounded, alerting her to move away, but when did she ever listen to reason? Not when it came to Urban. “Need help with anything else?” Yup, she did it. She made an offer and hoped he took her up on it.
“Well, if you’re offering, I can think of a few things.”
And then something gave way like the cord to a parachute.
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his body—his quickly hardening body that the slacks couldn’t hide, telling a story of his need. Her arms came up to wrap around his nape, pulling him closer, not ever wanting to let go. Things felt too good this close to him.
Lowering his head, he covered her mouth with his, at first taking things slow until he dipped his tongue past her lips, tasting her delicacy. A moan crawled up her throat and he swallowed the sound. Two steps and he had her pressed against the mirrored wall, her breasts pushed against his iron hard chest and his bulging zipper brushing her stomach. He reached down, grasped one ass cheek in his large palm and lifted her. She wrapped her leg around his waist while standing on tiptoes with the other foot, the vee of her thighs now rubbing against his thick, stiff mound.
He pulled back, his breathing labored as he lowered his head to plant moist kisses along her jaw, following the line of her throat to the hollow between her collar bones. There he kissed and licked the skin, shooting an electrical current into her nerve endings.
Remembering they weren’t entirely alone and that Gayla was outside the curtain somewhere, Presley closed her mouth tight against the moans that threatened to erupt.
One hand snaked up under her blouse, caressing her stomach, her ribcage, then running a finger along the band of her bra. Her nipples were tight buds of urgency and all she wanted, all she cared about, was having his touch on her throbbing, sensitive breasts. Her fingers dug into his neck as she arched her back in silent need. His fingers slipped under the constraining material, finding one hard nipple and twirling the delicate bud between his fingers. He dragged the material of her blouse down and followed with his mouth as he found the torrid bead and suckled it like a thirsty man.
His body was harder. She was needier. Without inhibition or modesty, she gyrated her hips across his erection, then drove her need home by bucking against him. A groan vibrated his chest which made her only hungrier.
Dropping her hand, she glided her fingers between their bodies and cupped his crotch—his gigantic crotch. Every fantasy she’d had about him over the years left her wondering if he was as large as she suspected, and now she knew the answer. Size didn’t matter, but when it came to a Jericho, a woman was never left dissatisfied. The rumors were true.
He pushed his erection deeper into her hand, his breaths coming in pants and in between he licked her nipple and treated it with such greediness.
When she felt his fingers at the waist of her jeans, she jerked, still holding her lips tightly shut against the string of curses that threatened to fall off her tongue. She was astounded that she was this turned on, this wet so quickly.
His hand pushed past the barrier and slipped inside, straight to the source of need. She was grateful he wasn’t the type to take his time, but went straight to work, pushing his fingers beyond the lace band and to her throbbing inner thighs. As if astounded by her silky wetness, he groaned and brought his chin up, looking at her with eyes lit in arousal. He didn’t need to say a word because she knew what he was feeling.
Plunging one finger through her swollen lips, he made several sweeps as if to wet his knuckles then stopped at her clit, swirling the bead until she thought she would scream in longing. She bucked her hips, pleading…but for what? Would she take him right here? In the dressing room at the tux shop? She’d never been this brazen, and yet, for that moment she didn’t care about anything but finding a release that would bring her such pleasure.
He slipped a finger into her passage, gliding in and out, in and out, then added another finger, slamming into her as hard and fast as the constrained space of her jeans would allow. His lips were back on hers, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth, replicating what was happening in her pants. He was a perfect kisser. Perfectly shaped. Hell, what couldn’t this man do?
She was so close to release. Her knees wobbled. Her legs quivered. She rolled her core around his palm, rubbing her clit against the hilt of his hand…
“Any trouble in there?” Gayla called from outside the curtain.
Presley’s lungs deflated. Urban stilled.
“Fuck!” he mouthed.
Afraid to move, she motioned for him to answer.
“Everything’s fine, Gayla. I’m coming momentarily.”
Presley’s eyes widened and she waited for the woman’s footsteps to fade. “Really?” she whispered. “Great choice of words.”
“I thought so. I guess I’m going to have to remove my hand,” he said in a low, husky voice that vibrated her nipples.
“Well, it would be awfully hard to walk with your hand stuck in my pants.” She slid out from between him and the wall, gave him one last glance before peeking around the corner. Coast was clear and she quickly left him alone.
While he was changing back into his clothes, Presley worked her way around the small shop, needing to walk off her adrenaline high. She inspected the small glass case with rows of diamond rings and bands.
“Would you like to look at any?” Gayla asked.
Opening her mouth to decline, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to look closer. Perusing the variety, she didn’t know much about cuts and clarity of diamonds, but when she saw the vintage ring—a blue sapphire set in an antique band—she knew she wanted to try it on. “I’ll try that one.” She tapped the glass over the ring.
Gayla unlocked the case, took out the ring from the velvet nest and placed it before Presley. “This is a lovely choice. There’s a story behind this one too.”
Picking up the ring, Presley slid it onto her fourth finger. It was a touch too big, but she admired how the sapphire looked like dark blue ice as it reflected the light. She’d never seen anything like it before. “It’s beautiful.”
“In the eighteen hundreds, the Bellview family owned many stores in town and were renowned in these parts. The oldest daughter, Moxie, had fallen in love with a handsome, dashing soldier. He had given her this very ring and a promise that they would marry the day he came back from war, but unfortunately, he never made it back because he was killed.”
“Oh no.”
“He was due to arrive home in a week. Moxie, inconsolable, never married, never had kids and died a lonely woman still wearing that ring. Having no living relatives to hand the ring down to, it was auctioned off. I was lucky enough to have acquired it. Most women go for the traditional diamond ring so this one is overlooked.”
Presley rolled it around her finger, holding up her hand to admire its beauty. “It’s lovely. But…I’m not into rings.” She pulled the ring off and handed it back. “Thank you for letting me see it and sharing the story.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” Urban asked.
Not realizing he had been standing there, she swiveled and nervously smiled, hoping he didn’t see her trying on the ring. “Oh, nothing. Just waiting for you. Are we finished?” she asked Gayla.
“Yes, I’ll get the suits ordered and have them ready for your wedding day.”
“Where are we headed next?” Urban asked once they were out on the sidewalk.
Reaching for her phone, she checked the time. “Next is Lanie’s to pick out a cake, but we have an hour. How about we grab a bite to eat?”
He rubbed his stomach. “I can always use a bite
to eat. No one ever tells you how hungry planning a wedding can be.”
Not thinking, she started to reach for his hand as if it was a natural thing to do, but she caught herself. Thankfully, he had been engaged in greeting someone on the sidewalk and didn’t catch her blunder.
By this time, most townsfolk had gotten wind of their engagement so when they walked into the diner and several people congratulated them, she wasn’t thrown for a loop. She’d even been asked how she was doing after getting tranquilized.
They slid into a booth, ordered and once alone, she broached the subject on her mind. “Things are getting real.”
“They have been since the moment I asked.”
“You know it’s not too late.”
“For what?”
“To change our minds.”
“Pfft. That ain’t happening, at least not for me. Are you changing your mind?”
She hesitated, searching her thoughts. “Honestly, no.” And it was the truth. “As insane as this is, I want to move forward.”
“Good.” His dimpled smile made the butterflies dance in her stomach. “Because I got a call from the filmmaker for the documentary, I think her name is Addie—Adira, something like that, and once I told her about the wedding, they wanted to come and start filming sooner than anticipated.”
She blinked. “How soon?”
“Within a few days.”
“That’s fast. I had no clue you got the ball rolling already considering I only said yes two days ago.”
“I applied over a week ago.”
Again, she was floored. “Wait, you applied that long ago? That was when you asked me and I didn’t give you an answer.”
He gave a slight shrug. “Don’t be angry, but I thought…”
“That you had me in the bag?” She shot up a brow.
“No.” He blew out a long breath through the corner of his lips. “That I…”
“Could never be resisted?” Anger made her heart beat faster. Why did this bother her so much? After all, this was one of the reasons why they were getting married, so he could be in this documentary. If she looked deeper into her feelings, the answer was clear. She was forgetting that the marriage was pretend, and that she was starting to fall for the cowboy who was looking at her in confusion.
Urban's Rush (Saddles & Second Chances Book 4) Page 9
