downright dashing man standing there, and she’d said, “I love all of this. Thank you.”
It wasn’t I love you, but it was honest, and it was appropriate, and it was better than thank you for keeping me out of debt.
“You are very, very welcome.”
And that had seemed very honest as well. He’d offered his arm very gallantly and escorted her to the elevator.
“If I hadn’t already been determined to take you out on the town,” he’d added as they waited for the elevator, “this would have done it. I’m definitely going to be showing you off.”
She’d smiled at that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been shown off before.
He’d leaned in just as the elevator car arrived. “And if I hadn’t already been determined to fuck you in that dress, this would have done it.”
Then the doors swished open, and he nudged her inside, with her heart pounding and her body warm and her new thong damp. But before she could come up with a response, the car stopped on the next floor and opened to let two more couples on.
She had to bite her tongue and Grant chuckled beside her. As if he knew. Well, she would get him back. Making the serious, always-in-charge Grant Lorre lose that control and have some fun had already been very enjoyable. She knew that he hadn’t planned on having sex when they were up in the room earlier.
The rush of power that gave her was crazy. But she loved it.
The ceremony in front of the judge was simple. It was nothing like any wedding ceremony she’d ever imagined, but that was good. None of her friends were there. Her parents and grandparents and sisters weren’t there. There was no beautiful meaningful music, and the vows were straightforward and basic.
The whole thing took about ten minutes.
And it was good.
Because she never could have gotten through it if all of those people had been there, if someone had sung “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri, if Grant had said, “Love, honor, and cherish” to her.
She wanted all of that. But this, with Grant, wasn’t it. So this ceremony was perfect.
The dress and tiara and ring were all part of this fantasy weekend getaway. Grant was part of that. The hotel suite, the limo, the hot sex. All of that was new, different, probably once in a lifetime.
She was going to remember this as a vacation, a hot fling, a dream. The ceremony was just a ten-minute reality check, and then she could dive back into the dream.
They said, “I do.” They exchanged rings—Grant had one for her to slip on his finger as well. The judge pronounced them man and wife. Grant smiled at her. And it was a great smile.
Of course, it wasn’t love on Grant’s face. But damn, he was doing a great job faking it. And she thought she could safely call it affection. Grant liked her. He wasn’t upset about being here. Starting a marriage with affection and major chemistry wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t even a terrible way to spend the entire marriage. At least when the marriage was going to be about a month long.
And then they kissed.
The kiss felt pretty real, she had to admit.
The way Grant cupped her face with both big hands and leaned in, taking her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss that didn’t even involve tongues but promised at more—so much more—later… yeah, that all felt very real.
Then they were back in the limo.
She gave him a grin as the driver pulled away from the curb.
“Dinner first,” Grant said.
“What do you mean?”
“I know what that look on your face means,” he said. “You just keep your sweet ass on that seat for right now. We’re only a few blocks away from the restaurant.”
In spite of the wedding in a judge’s office, she was feeling good and playful and not disappointed as she’d thought she might. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him, running her fingertips over the back of his hand where it rested on her knee.
See, if he didn’t want to do anything risqué in the back seat of this limo, he shouldn’t put his big, hot hands on her. But Grant hadn’t stopped touching her since she’d walked out of the bedroom in The Dress.
The Dress was how she was going to refer to it forever.
He’d held her hand, or had his hand on her lower back, or at her waist, or like now, on her leg, ever since she’d