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She jerked her mouth away, but I held her firm, close enough to see a
tiny dot on the white of her eye, as if the freckles on her face couldn’t bear
being constrained to skin.
“You promised to stop kissing me like that,” she said.
“Last time was practice.”
She let go of my shirt, laying her hands flat on my chest to smooth the
fabric.
“You don’t need practice.” She shoved me away.
“That’s your story,” I said. “When anyone asks why you fell for me, it
was the kissing.”
“I was going to say it was your cock.”
My dick twitched as if it heard her call. “Don’t make this harder than it
has to be.”
She smiled. “He said.”
“Make a note. I fell for the bad jokes too.”
“Noted,” she said, opening the stairwell door to a warehouse space
filled with racks of clothes. “I’m only getting married twice. I have to dress
for it.”
She spun and ran deep into the racks. I rushed to keep up with her. From
what I could see, the racks were filled with cheap T-shirts and denim.
Against the opposite wall, she stopped at a locked chain-link cage.
“There’s something in here I can wear.” She poked the combination into
the padlock and clicked it open. As if she knew exactly what she wanted,
she reached into the racks and pulled out a plain white dress with a big red
tag hanging under the left arm. “What do you think?”
“It’s fine,” I said, taking the hanger. “We need to go.”
“Okay.”
We hustled out of the cage. She locked it behind her and I took the lead,
getting her down to my limo without kissing her again.
“Loranda,” I greeted my driver, who was opening the back door of my
Cadillac limo. “This is Ella.”
They shook hands.
“Where to?” Loranda asked.
“Civic Center. Judge Reynard.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once I was in the back, facing Ella, Loranda closed the door.
Ella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s Saturday.”