There’s wearing a dress and then there’s wearing a dress. Even her inner critic has to agree on which she is doing. The material hugs the curves as if it were returning from war. The bottom of the dress lands about halfway up her thigh, showing off shapely, dance-sculpted legs.
He catches a glimpse of her as he walks by their bedroom. He stops and comes back for more. She watches him approach in the mirror. She does a little spin and stops when she is facing him. She bites her lip.
He reaches out and pulls her close. A hand that wants you just feels different on your skin. He is only touching her arm, but she tingles all over. She leans in for a kiss on his clean-shaven face. She inhales deeply, but stifles an mmmmmmmmm. She lets her hand slide down his bare chest and hook in the top of his pants.
“You look amazing,” he whispers in her ear.
“Not too cleavage-y?” she asks, sliding a finger along the dress and just a little down between her breasts. Then a little more.
He tries not to watch. But he watches. She turns back towards the mirror. He’s still watching. She loves it.
“I’m not sure what to do with my hair.”
He gently scoops her hair up in his large hand and lifts it up on top of her head. He leans in and plants little kisses from her bare shoulder, all the way up her neck to her ear, goose bumps following along the path. He exhales.
“Looks good like that,” he whispers.
Then he lets her hair fall, wraps his hand in it and gently pulls her head back and plants a soft, teasing kiss on her lips.
“But it looks good like this too.”
“Down…” she says.
He lets go of her hair and walks over to the bed. He picks up his crisp, white shirt and starts putting it on. She watches. “There’s wearing a shirt…” she thinks. He walks over and stands beside her, checking it in the mirror.
She crosses in front of him to get to the closet, rubbing against him as she does.
“Gotta pick shoes,” she says.
She bends over — all the way over — to look at her shoe rack. He doesn’t stifle his mmmmmm. He walks over and stands behind her, then steps forward until he is touching her. Lightly. He puts his hands on her hips.
“So many shoes to choose from,” she says, taking her time.
She picks up a pair of shiny pink ones in her hand and slowly straightens up. She turns around, pressing her chest against him.
“You like these?”
She walks across the room. She sits on the bed and delicately extends her right leg and smiles a him.
“Help me try them on?”
He slowly walks over to her and takes a knee. She hands him a shoe. He runs his hand down her leg, starting much higher than necessary, enjoying the smooth, freshly-lotioned skin. He gently places the shoe on her foot, noticing newly pedicured toes. She extends her leg again and puts it over his shoulder.
“What do you think?” she asks with a smile.
She pulls him in with her leg. He plants a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then runs his hand up her leg.
She takes him by the hair and pulls him up on top of her.
He kisses her cleavage. Up her neck. Her chin.
They make out hungrily.
A pink shoe flies across the room, hitting his jacket, on the back of a chair, with a wedding invitation sticking out of the pocket.