step into. “And let’s not pretend like I didn’t strap you into a pair of stockin’s and garters at de state dinner.”
With hands covering the ladies, I stepped into the pool of silk, and raised my arms above my head as Allan drew the dress up my body and began fastening an innumerable row of buttons. “Wouldn’t a zipper be quicker?”
“So would paint by numbers, love. Do think Da Vinci would have gone in for ‘at?”
I held my breath as he reached my ribs. “Point conceded.”
“There!” He stood walked around the front of me and frowned. “You’ve lost weight! Where are your tits?” He stalked over to me and peered down my bodice.
I clapped my hands over my chest before he could perform any kind of archeological excavation. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”
“Shit. This corset is going to be de hardest part to take in.” He ran his hands down my ribs and tugged the stiff fabric backward.
“I ate doughnuts this morning!” I offered, remembering. “Like, three of them! That could help, right?”
“We might have to stuff you,” he said, looking over me with an assessing eye.
“I have some...inserts.” I cleared my throat, glancing around to make sure no one was there to overhear us. “You know, just for special occasions.”
“Bring a couple pairs of socks,” he advised. “Just in case.”
“Fine. Any preferences on the hair?”
“Wear it down.” He reached beneath the skirt to shimmy the corset higher up my back. “Wild and wavy. Big.”
“The big part is a guaranteed,” I said. “Beachy waves? Or organized waves?”
“Beachy. And wear the corset I got you for de other gown.”
I gave him a thumbs up. “You got it.”
He walked around behind me and began the complicated process of unfastening me.
“How are Steve and Shayla doing?” I asked. “I haven’t seen them since I’ve been back.”
“Steve is ducky as ever. Insisted ‘e wanted a kilt as Mark and Joseph would be wearin’ them, and them being part of the wedding party and aww.”
“Shit. I hadn’t even thought about that. Are we doing a rehearsal or anything?” I asked.
“Naw. We’ll pair up bridesmaids and groomsmen tomorrow mornin’ and give a few last minute instructions. Should be pretty simple beyond that.”
I folded my arms across my chest as the gown pooled at my ankles, then stepped out. Allan whisked it away and returned it to its hanger.
I slid back into my bra and pulled on my jeans and t-shirt. “And Shayla?”
“I had to let her wedding gown out. As well as Helena’s, for ‘at matter. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how quickly werewolf pregnancies progress.”
“Oh God. Helena. I had completely forgotten she’s knocked up too.”
“I fink Steve wanted Scott Kirkpatrick as a groomsman, and we needed a bridesmaid to match. It sort of made sense, you know?”
“Works for me,” I said.
“Mark will be back later today. In case you were wanting to see him.” Allan flicked a glance over his shoulder.
“Actually, I think I should get out of the way. It seems like the arrangements are pretty well in hand, and there are a few things I should take care of before the wedding tomorrow.”
“Whatever you say, love.” Allan guided a filmy sheath over my gown. “But do me a favor?”
“Anything,” I promised.
“Don’t sleep wif the detective tonight. A werewolf weddin’ ain’t considered a success wifout at least three deaths, and I’m guessin’ you’d prefer ‘is weren’t one of them.”
Chapter 22
Morrison’s knock tattooed my door with the same pattern I’d come to know, dread, crave, and love. The first time I’d heard it, I’d spilled coffee on his lap. The second, he’d brought doughnuts, and a handful of orgasms.
But I’d eaten his doughnuts earlier this morning, and sleeping with him had been strictly forbidden me by a millennium old werewolf.
How times had changed.
I opened the door to find him leaning against my doorway, groceries hanging from his wrist, a brown paper bag tucked under his arm.
“What’s in there?” I asked, nodding toward the groceries.
“This is a Serego Alighieri Armaron,” he said, grabbing the bottle with the grocery-laden hand and holding it out to me like me like an offering. “And these,” he said, shaking the bags, “are the makings of an antipasto platter.”
“Bastard.” I took the bottle and opened the door wide. His jeans-clad ass drew my gaze by magnetic force as he sauntered into my kitchen and set the bags on the counter. He navigated my space as easily as I had his earlier this morning, pulling down two wine glasses