Cherry laughed.
He reached up and touched her neckline. The embroidered lariat. The horseshoes. “I can’t believe you still have this dress...”
“It doesn’t fit,” Cherry said. She’d had to pull the dress over her head, and then over her chest one tit at a time, without unzipping it, because it never would have zipped back up once it was on. Her breasts were smashed flat and ballooning from the top, and the waistline was severing Cherry in half.
“It fits fine,” Russ said in a low voice. He loosened his hold on Cherry to walk her back through the living room and down the hall.
“I thought we were going to dinner...” she said.
“Pfft.” He kicked his bedroom door open. “You’ll be lucky if you get breakfast.”
Cherry laughed. He led her into his room by the hand, then gave her a spin. Her skirt and petticoat swung out around her.
“I can’t believe this,” Russ said again. “It’s like I’ve traveled back in time.”
He put his other hand on Cherry’s waist and stepped close to her. “We need to go dancing.”
“Okay.” She was still whispering.
“And you can wear this dress.”
“I’ll wear a dress I can breathe in.”
Russ was already slow-dancing, gently guiding Cherry’s hips. He held her hand close to his mouth and kissed it. Then he shook his head, like he was thinking something.
“What,” Cherry whispered.
When he looked up at her, his eyes were glistening. “You,” he said hoarsely. “Finally.”
Cherry was caught off guard.
She hadn’t expected him to act like this—she’d thought the dress would land like lingerie, not a pressed flower. Her own eyes welled up.
Russ was only a little bit taller than her when she was in heels—he said he was five-nine, which meant he was probably five-eight. He leaned forward and kissed her. Softly.
Cherry kissed him back.
When he pulled away, he kept their faces together and rubbed his nose against hers. They were still swaying. Cherry’s breath was shallow.
She hadn’t expected this moment to be about feelings, but that was okay. Cherryhadfeelings. Plenty of them. And they predated Tom. Cherry’s feelings for Russ were planted in an untainted part of herheart. They were an antidote, almost, to the tar-like grief that stuck to her.
Russ was something good, and Cherry wanted to lean into him. She wanted every part of him that was on offer.
Russ had moved his lips to her cheek, which was nice. And her neck, which was even nicer. Her eyes stayed closed. She took a deep breath—
Actually, Cherrycouldn’tget a deep breath in this dress. She’d only been able to breathe into the very top of her lungs, even before Russ raised her temperature. Her chest was heaving now. She was feeling a little lightheaded. She looped her arms around his neck for balance.
Russ was touching Cherry everywhere that he could reach, exploring the dress as much as her body. Running his fingertips along the seams. Cherry made herself tall—to be thinner, but also to better feel his hands on her. She was like Stevie, rolling over to expose her stomach. She lifted a foot off the ground and arched her back.
Russ caught her around the waist and hugged her close. His face fell into her cleavage with a groan. Cherry kissed the top of his head.
“All right, you fantasy,” he said, standing upright again. “Onto the bed.”
Cherry felt unsteady. She waited for him to move her to the edge of the bed and push her backwards. She landed on her palms and elbows. Her feet kicked off the floor.
Russ stood between her legs. He was wearing jeans—he didn’t, usually—and an untucked white button-down. He was undoing his belt. Cherry felt her eyes get wide and lose focus.
He shook his head, like he had before. “Do you even realize what you’re giving me with this dress?”
