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I was half undressed when Carter stepped into the dressing room with an armful of dresses to join me. He hung them on the rack on the wall.

“I thought you might need help,” he said, all business.

I didn’t respond and he finished undressing me. He fingered the material of my bra, a near caress, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, whether he wanted me or was just this impatient to find me the right clothes.

“You need more maternity bras,” he said and cupped my breasts with both hands. “Some nursing ones, too. What size is this one? I’ll go pick some out.

“Thirty-four G,” I told him, breath unsteady.

“Jesus, they’re glorious. You are.” With a heavy sigh, he let go of my flesh and reached for the first dress, pulling it over my head.

I wanted him. Right this second, wanted him, but he seemed to have other plans.

I didn’t have to do a thing but stand there as he dressed and undressed me. I barely had to form an opinion, though he did ask my preference.

We settled on the first dress he’d picked out. It was by far the best fitting and most flattering.

“Just leave it on,” he told me. “I’ll take the tag and pay for it. Grab anything else you see that you like. I’m going to grab those bras. Also, you need shoes.”

He started to step away, but I grabbed his hand. He froze, an arrested look on his face, and started shaking his head. “Not here, not now,” he said tersely. “I’m not going to fuck you again until you’re my wife.”

While I loved the sound of that, I was in a state, all the little touches as he’d dressed and undressed me building me up into a bonfire of need.

I moved his hand down my body, closing my eyes. “Can you do something else then?” I asked him tremulously. “Please. I need it.”

He loved that, his voice in my ear telling me just how much as he finger fucked me, his other hand covering my mouth. He found just the right spot to pound his fist against me as he worked two fingers in and out.

Once wasn’t enough, for him, for me, and he got me off a quick-fire three times before tearing himself away unsteadily.

By the time we left the store, I was wearing my wedding dress with some comfortable white matching sandals, and I had more maternity gear than I thought I could even wear in the next few months, but I wasn’t complaining.

He barely fit the bags into what little space was left in his car, but he managed.

There was a florist along the drive, and I was confused when he pulled in to park in front of it.

“Stay here,” he told me and got out of the car. He went inside and Maddie, who was still following us, got out of her car and came to my window. I rolled it down.

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Did you guys have sex in the dressing room?” she asked, smirking.

“Not exactly,” I hedged, blushing profusely.

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe you left him. You two as a couple are not at all what you led me to believe.”

“We’re very . . . sexually compatible, I think, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, Nova, that is not what I mean. What I mean is I think you’re delusional where he’s concerned. You’re so certain no one could love you that you’ve done some pretty heavy mental gymnastics to convince yourself of it, but that man has it bad, at least as bad as you have it for him.”

“Stop,” I said weakly. I just couldn’t take it. “Don’t give me hope. Hope hurts, and it’s certainly never worked out for me before.”

She put her hands up. “Fine. I’ll drop it, but someday I get to say I told you so, and it’s going to be a lot of fun for me.”

Carter walked out of the florist shop right then. He had something in his hands and he was smiling.

He unwrapped it and it was a crown of peach Persian buttercups.