Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,11

glove. Between the sweetheart neckline, the v-waistline, and the full tulle skirt, it's the perfect princess dress.

I really do look like a princess.

A tear forms in my eye. I go to wipe it away. No good. There's another. Another.

Blinking does nothing to stop the happy tears from forming.

"It's perfect," I whisper.

She chokes back a tear. "Oh God. Now I'm crying. You look beautiful. That's it, Meg. That's the dress."

My eyelids press together. I can see myself at the altar in this dress. I can see the look of delight in Miles's eyes as I walk down the aisle. I can feel his fingertips on my chest, tracing my tattoo.

Your Worship, you really look like a Princess.

I love you.

I know.

Don't Star Wars me at a time like this.

He smiles so hard that he can barely get out his I love you too.

My gaze goes to my reflection.

The sweetheart neckline is low enough to show off my fresh ink.

The reflection of the words is backward in the mirror. Still, I read them over and over.

Be Brave, Love.

I want to be brave. I want to run to my feelings instead of running from them.

Chapter Six

Miles

Under normal circumstances, Drew isn't exactly what I'd call "a barrel of laughs," but he's in an especially off mood today.

I send him to get suits so I can tour venues on my own. None are quite right. But one gives me an idea.

It takes a few hours searching online, but I find the perfect venue. I can see her there, can see us there.

I book it for the day after tomorrow.

Fuck, maybe I am rushing, but I can't help it. I need a better explanation than I want the world to know she's mine if I want to convince Meg's parents this is a good idea.

She won't do it without their blessing.

Fuck, I won't do it without their blessing. We don't have much family between the two of us—mostly, it's her parents and the guys in the band.

I make dinner reservations and rack my brain for parent-friendly charm.

My fingers dance over my cell screen. I know the dress is a big deal. I don't want to rush her.

But, fuck, I need to check in.

Miles: Any pictures for me?

Meg: You're always a bad boy.

Miles: You love it.

Meg: Maybe. It's bad luck to see the wedding dress before the big day.

Miles: You found something?

Meg: Maybe...

My phone buzzes with a new picture message. Meg isn't wearing the dress. She's isn't wearing anything.

My blood rushes to my cock. My eyes fix on the tattoo curving over her breast.

Be Brave, Love.

I'm going to get hard every time I sing that song for the rest of my life. Not that I'm complaining.

Meg: Not what you were expecting?

Miles: Better.

Meg: I did get a dress. And it's beautiful. You'll love it.

Miles: Princess, it only matters if you love it.

Meg: I do. Did you pick a restaurant?

Miles: We have reservations at nine.

Meg: I'll be there at eight. In a new dress. Without underwear. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you.

Damn. I can see her sleepy grin. Already, I want her in my arms. I always want her in my arms.

I text her the details for dinner. I almost text her a promise that we can do this on her timeline, but that doesn't belong in a text. It should be whispered in her ears between kisses.

It wouldn't exactly be a problem if that led to one of my hands on that tattoo, the other between her legs, stroking her to orgasm.

Fuck, that thing will be the death of me.

***

The restaurant is an upscale steakhouse overlooking the hotel's pool and garden, far enough away from the casino floor that the classical music flowing through the speakers is louder than the beeps and bops of slot machines.

Meg is already here, sitting in a booth by the bar. It's the perfect booth for this. It has a high back and it faces the wall. It's just enough privacy that I can get my hands under that skirt and test the veracity of her claim.

Her eyes light up as she spots me. She slides out of the booth and meets me halfway. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close.

She smells good.

Her long hair is pulled back. Haven't got a fucking clue what the style is called, but I can tell it's some sort of wedding run through. It's elegant.

She's wearing makeup too. She's bare-faced most of the time. I can't say I care much