That Wedding: A Small Town, Friends-to-Lovers Romance (That Boy Series Book 2) -
That Wedding: Chapter 37
Phillip walks in the door with beer under his arm and a magazine in his hand. “Look, I found a wedding magazine we haven’t looked at yet! This one looks cool, too. It has spreads on real weddings.”
We sit at the kitchen table, drink a beer, and flip through the pages. We’re halfway through when Phillip stumbles upon an idea that hits his hot button.
“Look at this! They had custom Nikes made as gifts for the groomsmen! They put their names and the wedding date on the shoes, too. That is the coolest wedding thing I have ever seen! I’m doing them. We’ll do black shoes with a dark purple swoosh!”
Phillip is really excited, and I don’t want to, like, burst his bubble or anything, but tennis shoes at a formal wedding? With tuxedos?
Um, no.
No freaking way.
“Uh, Phillip, our wedding is formal. I don’t think you can wear Nikes.”
He raises his eyebrows and gives me a little smirk. “It’s my wedding. I can do whatever I want. Plus, you got purple shoes. You showed me them.”
“Phillip, I got purple satin Badgley Mischka heels with crystal detailing. They aren’t black leather Nike tennis shoes. I don’t know about this, Phillip. I need some convincing.”
He looks at me for a beat and then strips off his shirt.
That totally makes me laugh. “That’s not the kind of convincing I meant, Phillip. Look at these pictures. Their wedding was outside, and they’re wearing khakis. It was very informal.”
“I don’t care. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to wear these shoes.”
I’ll admit, Phillip with no shirt is already pretty convincing, but I say, “I see you shirtless every day. I don’t think that’s gonna do it.”
He picks me up and moves me to the couch. Takes off my sweater. Kisses my entire upper half.
Every. Single. Inch.
My collarbone, down my arms, my neck, my chest, my stomach. When he gets to my stomach, I’m about to tell him he can have whatever he wants, to please just take off my skirt.
He takes off my shoes instead. He gently massages my feet, kisses up my legs, and then finally pulls off my skirt.
And he’s right.
I’m pretty sure I’ll be letting him wear whatever shoes he wants.
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