“I'm really trying not to be the consummate arsehole here,” I say as we walk together, the heavy black and white folds of her dress swishing as she moves. It's got stripes of what look like piano keys overlaid in a random pattern across the fabric, but that's not what catches my attention. It's that strappy back, leaving most of her pale skin bare and begging to be touched. “Truly. But you haven't mentioned the fiancée thing once and I'm starting to get mildly concerned here.” “Do you want me to freak out?” she asks mildly, her lips colored with this sumptuous red that reminds me of pinot
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