“It doesn’t have to be fake, unless you want it to be,” he whispers, his hands sliding up and underneath the full skirts of the dress. Warm palms caress my bare thighs as he settles himself between my legs, kissing each corner of my mouth with the gentlest of touches.
He’s holding back. I’m sure of it. But why? It doesn’t even occur to me that he might be just as scared as I am, just as unsure, but just as in love.
Love.
That’s come up a lot lately, hasn’t it?
“You’d actually marry me? The weird, dorky poor girl with a maid for a mom and a teacher for a dad?”
“You know my secret,” he says, his face taking on just a hint of sadness. “My biological mother was a maid, too. We’re no different, you and me.” Church’s long fingers tease the waistband of my panties, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. He’s avoided touching me for so long, and now I can see why. Each place our skin comes into contact tingles. It’s like there are these little bolts of energy darting across my skin. “I’d be honored to marry you—but only if you want me, too.”
“I do …” I whisper, but the way I trail off gives him pause. Church stops kissing me, looking down into my face with a sweet mixture of frustration and longing. “I want them, too.” It almost hurts to say it, but I know that I have to. It gives me anxiety every day, wondering if there’s an ultimatum coming, or an expiration date.
“They’re my family, Charlotte,” Church says, propped up on with a forearm on either side of me. “They’re not going anywhere.” He smiles at me and then dips his head to kiss me again. This time, though, there’s an edge to it. It’s like his personality: half sunshine and half ironclad control. It’s a part of who he is, a part of being a Montague.
“There are condoms in the nightstand,” I whisper, and Church nods, his eyes hooded as he looks down at me. We kiss again, one of his hands coming up to rest on the curve of my waist, the other slipping beneath my panties. Part of me knows we should take off the wedding dress, but the rest of me doesn’t care.
Church dances the fingers of one hand across my clavicle while the other teases the embarrassing amount of wetness between my legs. I’m desperate to touch him, too, but when I drop my hands to his slacks, he grabs my wrist.
With his eyes locked on mine, Church sits up and reaches for his tie, carefully unknotting it and slipping it off. He then takes it and wraps it around one of the spindles on the headboard and then around my wrists, tying it in just such a way that the navy-blue silk holds me tight, but lets my skin breathe.
His own breath catches when he sits back on his heels and looks me over, bound with his Adamson Academy school tie, and dressed as his bride. Sunlight streams in through the window, coloring Church’s honeyed hair with gold as he studies me.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask, sweating and doing my best not to writhe beneath him. But I’m desperate for him to touch me. Desperate.
“I’m savoring the moment,” he replies easily, mouth sliding to the side in a devilish little smirk. “If I were a different sort of person, I’d probably take a picture. Maybe even a video?”
“Don’t you dare,” I growl out, but Church just chuckles.
“I won’t. After all, this is just for me to enjoy. If I recorded it, I bet one of those assholes would get ahold of my phone at some point and see the evidence.” Church bends down and kisses the side of my neck, making me squirm. “I don’t mind sharing, in general, but certain things are just for me. This is one of them.”
“You really are an arrogant ass pig, aren’t you? And for a second there, I actually thought you were nice.”
The nightstand drawer slides open and out come the condoms.
“You thought I was nice?” Church asks, smirking. “That’s your mistake.”
“Did I really just … agree to like … marry you or something?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer with words, using his body to fill in the gaps instead. He kisses me deeply, the touch of his mouth cutting right through all the bullshit and going straight for my soul.
I never expected to like Adamson; I most definitely didn’t expect to like the Student Council.
And yet, coming here is the best thing that ever happened to me.
Church sighs contentedly and unbuttons his slacks, revealing the hard length of his cock to me. It’s not the first time I’ve seen it—hot springs, remember?—but it’s different somehow, now that we’re alone, now that both of our intentions have been made clear.
