If he could have traded sexual favors for the ability to bypass the twenty-four hours we had to wait after applying for our marriage license, I think Ezra would have done it.
Standing in my underwear in our closet, I huff. “I have nothing white.”
“You do have that bikini…”
“Ezra, I am not marrying you in a fucking bikini.” Normally I’d find his joke adorable, but not when I have nothing to wear to my own wedding.
“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “Don’t you still have those white sundresses from Hawaii?”
“They don’t fit anymore.”
Working with such a body-positive cast and crew was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Show business has a long way to go in this department, but I’m optimistic the rising generation will continue to drive the industry in a more supportive and inclusive direction.
“You don’t have to wear white. What about that pink dress?” He sidles up next to me—naked, having abandoned his own efforts—and nods to the back of our closet. “The tags are still on. That could be your something new.”
“I guess that will work.” I ease it off the hanger and turn to him. “Will you help me zip up the back, please?”
I make him stand with his back to me while I slip on my Spanx. While I love my body, there are some things a fiancé doesn’t need to see.
When the magenta dress with flowy chiffon sleeves easily glides over my hips, I let out a relieved sigh.
With deft fingers, Ezra drags the zipper up my back, the move causing goose bumps to blossom across my chest where the pendant from Kanelies.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he tugs me against his naked body and kisses my temple. “Today, you become my wife.”
I hum. “I like the sound of that. It’s a shame I only get to call you my fiancé for a few more hours. But I guess ‘my husband’ has a nice ring to it.”
His dick twitches against my back. I think he likes it too.
“Does it bother you that we aren’t being married by a rabbi?” he asks.
“A little,” I admit. “It’s important to my parents. They’ve always assumed I would. But they’re okay with having a ceremony in a synagogue later. I can’t wait to start planning.”
“Thank goodness you have your PowerPoint.”
I tip my head back, glaring at him. “How do you know about that?”
He chuckles against my ear, still holding me tight in his arms. “Asher emailed me a copy.”
“That little turd,” I laugh. “I think my vision has changed a bit since.”
“I’d say, since your partner has a penis and not a vulva.”
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan. “Ugh, can you imagine how adorable Bea will look in a flower girl dress? Oh, that reminds me.” I rotate my head to look at him again. “Remember when you put her to bed that first time? With those awful animal impressions? What did you whisper to her?”
He gives me a squeeze. “That I was going to make you my wife.”
“Cocky, were you?”
“Always. I can’t wait to marry you.” He sucks at my neck, making my knees buckle.
We sway together, my head resting against him and his lips moving along the sensitive skin of my jaw.
While I love the way his hard cock presses into my ass, thatwill have to wait until later. “Put some pants on. You better not get precum on my dress,” I scold playfully as I pull away.
“Or you could…” A mischievous look washes over him.
“Get changed, big guy.” I tap his dick, and he contracts in surprise. “Let’s go get married.”
