“Did you find something?” Eric asked, thumbing through a rack of mobster attire.
“Bride costume,” Rebekah said, showing him the mass of lace and frills she couldn’t help but gravitate toward again and again.
“I guess that’s fitting,” he said. “But not terribly creative.”
She hung the dress back on the rack and tried to find something more creative. If he thought she was going to get married in one of her usual, naughty costumes with her tits and ass more bare than covered, he had another think coming. Her mother would be at the ceremony as Rebekah’s witness. And for once Rebekah didn’t want to stir things up with the woman.
Rebekah slid hangers down the rack one at a time as she looked at flapper dresses and regency gowns, ballerina tutus and army fatigues. She started when a large hand splayed over her lower back. The tattoo she’d recently had inked there was still a bit sensitive to the touch. Eric thrust the frilly white wedding dress into her arms.
“I think you should wear this.”
“But it’s not terribly creative,” she reminded him.
“I don’t mind. As long as you promise to wear it to bed tonight,” he said. “The thought of you in a wedding gown has me in a state that would make those Robin Hood or Romeo tights several inches too short, if you catch my drift.”
She laughed and gave him a hearty squeeze. The man was gifted at making her feel good about herself, and he could get his dick hard more times in a day than three average men combined.
“Then maybe you should wear the wedding dress to hide your perpetual hard-on,” she said, “and I should be the one to wear the tights because I’m super short.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Would it turn you on if I said yes to the dress?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.”
“Then forget it.”
She laughed at the thought of him dressed in a wedding gown. If she lied and told him that cross-dressers made her horny, she had no doubt that her eager groom would say his eternal vows to her in a frilly white wedding gown. She wouldn’t do that to him though. Even if it would be hilarious.
“So I’ll wear the bridal gown and you wear this,” she said, hurrying to a nearby rack and jerking out a tuxedo—007 version, very smooth and cool—that looked like it might fit him.
“Honey, do you want to wait? Maybe you’d like to get married in a cathedral with the dress and the twelve bridesmaids and the cake and the—”
She kissed him to shut him up. She knew he wanted to give her the world, and he had. He was her world, so as long as he stayed by her side, she had everything she could possibly want.
“I don’t want the bridesmaids or the cake or the cathedral,” she said. “I do want the vows and the kiss and even though I didn’t expect to, I apparently want the stupid dress.”
“Personally, I’m most looking forward to the kiss,” he said. “I think I need to practice it a couple dozen times to gauge the appropriate amount of tongue to give you. What do you say?”
She swatted his shoulder. “No more kissing until you say I do, or we’re going to end up screwing in the dressing room again and miss our own wedding.”
“Fine,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll just fantasize about kissing you while you go try on that dress. And then we’ll head to the courthouse.”
She held the gown up and examined it closely. It was horribly outdated, the enormous lace collar was yellowed from age and stained with what appeared to be fake blood—probably from some bride of Dracula from a past Halloween.
“It’s not a very pretty gown,” she said.
“If you want, we could go to a real wedding shop and buy you a better dress,” Eric said.
“Off the rack? That’s kind of tacky.”
“There isn’t anything tacky about your rack, babe.” He caught a finger in the top of her T-shirt and tugged down to give himself a nice view of her cleavage.
She slapped a hand over her chest. “I don’t think we have time to go shopping somewhere else anyway,” she said.
“We have some time,” he said. “I do want you to be legally mine as soon as possible, but your happiness is my number one priority. At the moment, your cleavage is a close second.”
He made a grab for her boob, and she smacked his wrist.
“I’d be happy marrying you dressed just like this,” she said, sweeping a hand down the front of her pink T-shirt and faded jeans. She even wiggled her toes, clearly visible in her cheap flip-flops. “Coming here to pick out costumes was your idea, remember?”
“Are you sure?” he said. “That doesn’t sound like some lame idea I’d come up with.”
She said nothing, just lifted her eyebrows at him in challenge.
“We could get married naked,” he said. “There’s an option.”
Grinning, she shook her head at him in disgrace. “Now that’s really a lame idea. My mother was just starting to like you. I don’t think she wants to get to know your balls on a more personal level.”
Eric’s face paled visibly. “You’re right. I don’t want to say my vows while sporting wood in front of your mother.”
Rebekah giggled. “And why would you be sporting wood?”
“I always sport wood when you’re naked.”
She slipped her hand into his and pressed her head against his arm, loving him a little more with each passing vulgar declaration.
“And half the time when you’re fully clothed,” he added. “And if you’re wearing one of your sexy costumes”—he made a cat sound in the back of his throat—“I’m completely gone. But you already know that.”
She did know that and used the knowledge to her advantage. Initially she’d been stunned that he’d wanted to dress up for their wedding. It was definitely something they liked to do in the bedroom, but weddings weren’t supposed to be about sex. Wedding nights, on the other hand, were meant for a whole different expression of love. Was it time for their wedding night yet? She glanced at a wall clock and noted that they’d been in the costume shop for well over an hour.
How had they wasted so much time already? At that rate, they’d never get out of the place and would miss their opportunity to get married today. She was starting to think he was trying to stall her. Maybe he secretly wanted the courthouse to be closed by the time they got there. If he had cold feet and honestly wanted to delay the wedding, she just wished he’d tell her instead of goofing off all afternoon in this dusty old store.
The loud rumble of an engine outside caused Eric to glance out the window, his shoulders high with eagerness. When it continued past the shop, his shoulders dropped again.
He was up to something, she just knew it.
“Are you going to try it on?” he asked when he caught her trying to read his mind.
She probably shouldn’t. Wearing an ugly costume wedding dress kind of defeated the entire purpose of their exercise in spontaneity. “Maybe I should go for something else. That Victorian gown is really pretty,” she said, gazing across the store at the beautiful blue gown on a mannequin in the window, “but is definitely not my size. I hate being short.”
“You look beautiful just the way you are.”
She highly doubted that. It had been an exhausting morning at the oncologist. She was mentally drained and was sure it showed outwardly. Thinking that her uterine cancer might have metastasized when they’d found a suspicious spot in her MRI had shoved her head first under the oppressive boulder that dwelled at rock bottom. She’d been there before, knew that place all too well. Cancer had already fucked her out of her chance to have babies; she couldn’t believe it would be so cruel as to fuck her out of her chance at happiness as Eric’s wife. Even when she’d been near death on chemotherapy a couple of years ago, she had never felt as utterly defeated as she had that morning.
Then hours later, she’d been handed a clean bill of health and her mood had elevated her back to the land of the living—she’d let herself hope for a future again. A future for herself. A future w
ith Eric. Eric’s insistence that they get married immediately had sent her soaring with happiness. Yet the up, down, down, so far down, up, up, way up of her emotional roller coaster had taken its toll. Her bottom lip trembled as she thought about how much she stood to lose if she got sick again. Even though Eric had assured her that he would stand by her if her cancer returned, she wanted their times together to be filled with joy and love, not sorrow and pain.
“What’s the matter?” Eric asked.