Measuring Love

"Elizabeth, Which one looks best? White or blue?" I sighed and looked up from my computer.

"The blue one Christopher" he grinned and peeled off the white shirt that covered his beautifully sculpted upper half. I never got tired of that sight. He cleared his throat making me snap out of my little fantasy.

"Can you help me with this tie, it's bloody impossible?" I chuckled and stood up before moving towards his tall frame.

I finally stood before him and reached my hands up to sort the material hanging loose around his neck, I felt his well defined torso under the blue shirt that now covered his body, my fingers shook as I wondered what it would be like to feel his skin under my hands. His face was that close to mine that I felt his warm breath on my skin, causing a shiver to run down my spine. His muscular arms folded around my waist, large hands spread out over the expanse of my lower back pulling me closer.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked up and saw his gorgeous, sparkling blue eyes staring into mine with so much affection that if he wasn't holding me I'm afraid I'd be a pile on the cold tiles. His face neared mine and as his lips brushed mine he whispered the one name I never imagined he would.

"Elizabeth" My eyes closed under his spell and I felt myself moulding into his embrace. My lips were an inch away from his own, so I moved that little bit further and-

"Elizabeth!"

Oh Fuck.

Elizabeth Harper is a 23 year old costume designer from London. She had worked for many people on many T.V shows and films, but none like him. He was something else, he was the one who made the butterflies flutter in her stomach when her name fell from his lips, the one who's smile always cheered her up even when she was in the shittiest mood.

One problem. He's not the man she is marrying.