Get back to work.""Fine way to talk to your wife.""If you were my wife, I would've slapped your ass too."She stared at him a beat too long. She did love the feel of his hands on her ass.

There's something you need to know," he said.Her own breath came out loud and uneven. He was entirely in her personal space, but she'd given him enough power as it was. She wouldn't back away, wouldn't let him see her agitation. He tucked her hair behind her ear. Tension took hold of her body. She shuddered, looked up to tell him to stop, but he bent forward, his lips parted, a single freckle on his cheek drawing her attention while his lips got closer and closer and closer until ---"For future reference," he said, "I never kiss horribly." And before she could blink or breathe or think, his lips closed over hers. His grip tightened in her hair, and when she should've protested or pulled away or kicked him in the shins, her body melted into his. Kissing him was wrong.... So wrong. She was so good at so wrong.

She walked with a ghost of herself, one full of potential and possibility. One who was fearless. Where had that girl gone?

White bridal dresses stunning and pure, bringing promises, binding two souls together, life forces connected, holding the same vision.