Page 212 of Bridesmaid Undercover
“Yes, I fucking do,” he says, moving in close again. “I’m the best man.”
“Well, pin a rose on your nose,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, which of course draws his attention. “But the last time I checked the wedding handbook, the best man’s opinion is pretty low on the pecking order.”
His brows crash. “You’re not wearing that.”
“You know, I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t really care.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Everly. You know damn well you’re not going to wear that to Polly’s wedding, because if you do, you’re the one who is going to have all eyes on her, and not the bride.”
“How little you know about the people coming to the wedding,” I counter.
He moves in another inch, so I scoot back, leaving me directly in the dressing room and then to my chagrin, he steps in close again and draws the curtain shut behind him.
Oh boy.
I’ve seen that look in his eyes before.
I’ve noticed the way he wets his lips.
There is one thing on his mind right now, and it’s me—and most likely, I’m naked.
Not going to happen.
He closes in on me even more and then places his hand on my hip. “You’re not wearing this, and if I have to change you myself, I will.”
“As if I would let you see me naked,” I say.
“Babe, I’ve sucked on your tits and your clit—there isn’t an inch of your body I haven’t seen bare.”
“And what’s your point?” I ask him. “Just because you’ve seen it before that doesn’t give you the right to see it again.”
“All I’m saying is, you’re not wearing this dress.”
“And what I’m saying is, you have zero right to an opinion.” I shoo my hand at him. “So, you can leave now.”
He studies me, his eyes going back and forth between mine, ready to snap.
But he doesn’t move.
He doesn’t give me my space.
His gaze just turns darker, his shoulders grow larger, and his presence turns more commanding.
“Uh, I said you can leave now.”
He wets his lips as his fingers slowly drag up my right arm, sending goose bumps all along my skin. When he reaches my shoulder, he gently tugs on the strap, sending it down my arm. I quickly wrap my arms around my breasts, so I don’t show off anything.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Not falling for it, Everly.”
“Falling for what?” I ask.
“For your game of trying to make me jealous.”
I scoff. “I have better things to do with my time, Hardy, than attempt to make you jealous.”
“Uh huh,” he says skeptically. “If that’s the case, then walk out of this store right now with that dress as your choice for the wedding. Prove me wrong.”
