Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car on my own, but I’m starting to like leaning on Dane. He clearly derives pleasure from taking care of me, and I’m becoming addicted to his satisfied smile when I allow him to do so.
His hand spans my lower back as he guides me around the house and into the gardens. Hundreds of white chairs have been arranged in neat rows facing the back porch, where it seems the happy couple will say their vows. We’re early enough that only about a third of the chairs are filled, and scores of other guests are milling around the green space.
A table is set up near the huge magnolia tree, and silver cups wait with mint juleps to keep us cool during the hot day.
“Do you want a drink?” Dane asks.
“No, thank you. I don’t want any alcohol.” If my family is here, I want my wits sharp.
He nods in easy agreement, and we find two seats on the final row. I know Dane should make a show of sitting closer to the front, given his close relationship with the groom, but he’s making a silent gesture that I have an out if I need it. We can leave at any time, and it’ll be easier to slip away unnoticed if we’re behind the crowd.
The string quartet starts up, signaling that it’s time for everyone to find their seats.
By the time the bride glides down the aisle, I finally start to relax. My family isn’t here.
Dane’s thumb brushes my palm in a pulse of comfort, and I lean into him. I know he must be hot in his tux, but he looks as cool and handsome as ever: an untouchable, perfect sculpture of male serenity.
I find that I’m grateful for the beautiful, lilac dress he purchased for me. The sweetheart neckline is modest enough for a wedding while still giving my smaller breasts a feminine curve. The waist is fitted perfectly to my measurements, and the full skirt flows down to my ankles. Tiny, subtle lavender flowers are embroidered into the lightweight fabric, spilling down the skirt like delicate wisteria.
In this stunning dress, I almost feel worthy of my dashing white knight.
And knowing that my ruined panties are in his pocket while I’m bare for him underneath the dress makes my pulse race. We’re the picture of refinement, but we have a filthy, perverted secret that binds us together.
I touch my fingers to my throat, searching for the leather band of the collar that marks me as his. Of course, it’s not there, so I drop my hand and place it back in his firm grip.
His keen eyes noted my gesture, and they glitter with desire. I wonder if he’s thinking about my panties in his pocket too.
People are cheering. The ceremony is over.
I laugh, giddy at the intense connection I share with Dane and the fact that we made it through the ordeal without seeing my family.
He captures the sound of my joy on his lips, sweeping me up in a kiss that rivals the couple on the porch. But if anyone notices us, they don’t comment. Everyone is too polite to stare. Besides, they’re supposed to be focused on the bride and groom.
It’s only when the guests are dispersing into the garden that I hear my mother’s voice, and my stomach drops.
“Abby, honey! I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She sounds absolutely delighted to see me, but I know that falsely sweet tone.
I close my eyes and struggle to master the anxiety that rises up my throat like a choking vine. I should’ve known that she would be here; she was simply so late that she missed the ceremony.
She won’t miss the opportunity to enjoy a night of gossip and an open bar.
I look into Dane’s eyes and manage to arrange my features into my sunny smile before I turn to face her.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Aw, sweetie,” she practically coos, drawing me in for a hug. We barely make contact. Then she places her hands on my shoulders, and her pale blue eyes scour my face. “Your lipstick is smudged.”
The criticism about my appearance comes under the guise of concern. It’s all carefully calculated to set me off-balance at the outset so that she can politely eviscerate me.
“I think that’s my fault,” Dane says.
I blink up at him, surprised at his genial tone. He fixes my mother with a broad smile and reaches out to shake her hand.
“I’m Dane. Abigail is here with me.”
Mama’s eyes go wide. “Oh!” she exclaims. “I just love your accent. You must be Dr. Graham, Meadows’ associate.”
He nods, and it’s almost a formal half-bow. I’ve noticed his imperious air many times, and the man standing beside me is every inch the perfect prince.
“I can see my reputation precedes me,” he remarks.