Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Good thing I love the panties off her.
I slink into the dress in the fitting room. Reaching around, I tug the zipper up halfway, but past that, it won’t budge. “Can you zip me up?”
She pushes open the door and gasps. “Oh, Liv! It’s perfect.”
“Yeah, yeah. Can you zip me up now?”
She rolls her eyes but pulls the zipper up to the top. She’s right. It’s perfect. It needs taking up an inch at the bottom and pulling in at the waist, but those things are easily altered.
“This one. This one!” She claps her hands and grabs the tag. She winces but shrugs a shoulder and undoes the zipper.
“You winced.” Gold star for stating the obvious, Liv.
“I’m still adjusting to Aaron’s…ease of spending,” she says uncertainly.
“We don’t have to get this dress.” I grab the price tag. Two thousand dollars? Holy shit! “Okay, we definitely don’t have to get this dress.”
“No, we do.” She sighs. “Aside from the fact this dress is fucking perfect for you, I was given a preapproved list of wedding boutiques.” She purses her lips.
A bubble of laughter bursts from me. “Are you kidding me?”
“I wish. He gave me six stores to find you a bridesmaid dress. I added the other four. He said, and I quote, ’Baby, I don’t give a shit how much you spend on a fucking bridesmaid dress. What matters to me is that you have the wedding you’ve always dreamed of—regardless of the cost. So go to these stores and shop up a storm with Liv. And don’t come back until you have the whole fucking thing sorted out.’”
“That’s adorable in a demanding kind of way.”
She scowls. “And then he added, ‘And book a wax while you’re out.’”
She leaves me in the fitting room to get dressed again. I laugh into my hands. I can’t think of anyone better for Dayton than Aaron. Then again, they were always made for each other. Put two strong-willed people together and sparks will fly.
A bit like me and Tyler.
Except our sparks are very, very sexual.
I join her at the counter as she buys the dress. Since her dress is being handmade in Paris, she’s getting it delivered to her apartment. Then she is forwarding the package onto a seamstress for fittings.
Why the hell she can’t just give it to the seamstress in the first place, I don’t know.
“You found one then.”
I turn at Tyler’s voice. “You’re like a little jack-in-the-box, aren’t you? Just keep on fucking popping up.”
He laughs. “Aaron asked me to see if you were sticking to his list.” He looks at Dayton and raises and eyebrow. “And believe me, next time I’m going to tell him what to do with his list. This is the fifth bloody store I’ve been in.”
“Tell my darling fiancé I’ve stuck to his list and, if he doesn’t believe me, to check with his accountant.” Dayton smiles at him sweetly. “And also inform him I’m going to get the wax he requested, and I’m taking Liv with me. Right after we go lingerie shopping.”
We’re going lingerie shopping?
“You’re going lingerie shopping?” Tyler’s question might be directed at Dayton, but his eyes are on me.
“Did I or did I not just say that, Tyler?” She sighs. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going. I’ve had quite enough of you Stone men for the afternoon.”
I chew my lip to hide my smile. Tyler follows us from the store, and as Dayton gets in her car, he tucks something in my back pocket.
“Make sure it’s blue.”
I spin around to ask him what the hell he means by that, but he’s already halfway down the street and getting into his car. I dig my hand into my back pocket and pull out two fifties.
He just gave me money to buy lingerie. In the middle of downtown Seattle.
I get in the car, the money still in my hand.
Dayton glances at it. “Did he just give you that to buy lingerie?”
“Blue lingerie, if you want to be specific.” My jaw tightens.
“Wait. You’re not dating.”
“Correct.”
“So why is he giving you money for underwear?”
“That’s a very good question.” I tuck it inside my purse—in the back lining. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m spending his money on lingerie.
I’m all for him requesting what I wear. I’m all for him being completely specific. If he’s going to fuck me within an hour.
This, however, crosses a line for me. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m, in his words, his bitch. And that doesn’t give him the right to shove two fifty-dollar bills in my back pocket and demand I buy blue lingerie.
You know what? I think I feel like white underwear today.
I’m sore.
The skin above my vagina feels like it’s been massaged with sandpaper. And don’t even get me started on the skin by my butt. Goddamn stupid waxes.