“Don’t look,” she ordered, being bossy despite the fact that she very much needed his help. “I mean it.”
“Fine, fine.” Obeying, he closed his eyes and began walking forward, moving slowly.
“Where are you?” she asked impatiently, and her voice was very far to the left.
“How am I supposed to help if I can’t look?” he snapped, frustrated in more ways than one.
She scoffed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t undressed a woman before.”
“I assure you, I’ve undressed plenty,” he replied hotly. Irritation ran through him; here she was insulting him while simultaneously asking him for help. Her bedside manner could surely use some work. He swiveled to the left, heading in the direction of her voice.
“Riiiight,” Emmeline replied, drawing out the word. Hewished the dress would have covered her mouth entirely so she wouldn’t be able to speak, either.
“The girls I undress are usually not entangled in their own clothes,” he replied, and as he said the words, some of his frustration turned to amusement. His voice softened. “How did you even accomplish this?”
“I don’t know,” she whined, sounding much closer, as if she was right in front of him. “Now hurry up, my arms are getting tired.”
He blindly reached for her, his knuckles brushing against her stomach, and she inhaled a sharp breath. “Ugh, fine, you can look, but don’t ogle,” she warned. “I’ll be able to tell.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied sharply. “I have no desire to.”
His words were a flat-out lie because when he opened his eyes, that was all he wanted to do. Heat zipped down his spine with the intensity of a lightning bolt. He wanted to touch her, but he refrained, holding his hands into tight fists at his side as he took a step toward her.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he glanced over her, looking for the source of all this trouble. The dress was caught from behind.
“Turn around,” he said, voice rough. She did as she was told, and the view from behind was just as torturous as it was from in front. He forced his eyes up.
The lace was caught on the hooks of her bra; the easiest solution would be to undo the bra, but just the idea of that was enough to send his brain short-circuiting.
He looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before laser-focusing on the tangled fabric and hooks. He brought acareful hand to the dress. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, but he felt hot all over.
“Why were you changing in here, anyway?” he asked, hoping conversation would break some of the tension beating through him, but when he spoke, he was appalled at how rough his voice sounded. He surreptitiously cleared his throat.
“The line for the bathroom was too long,” Emmeline replied, voice quiet. “Why did you come back? For the thermos?”
He paused. A part of him was still smarting from her rejection all those years ago, and his guard had gone up at the thought of being vulnerable with her. It would have been easy to use the thermos as an excuse, but he didn’t want to do that.
The ridiculousness of this situation made it feel less scary.
“No, not for the thermos,” he said, his hands moving slowly on the fabric of her dress. He was careful not to touch the bare skin of her back as he gingerly pulled the fabric from her bra hooks. Just being this close to her made his entire body go haywire.
“Then why?” she asked. “You left.”
His heart pounded. “I wanted to apologize,” he said. “I should have answered your question.”
She was quiet. “Oh,” she eventually said.
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me because you don’t seem to hold a very high opinion of me,” he explained. “But if you ask me again, then I promise I’ll answer.”
She didn’t respond. He had untangled the fabric by then,and he moved his hands to her ribs, slowly turning her around.
“You keep surprising me,” she whispered, facing him now. Her words were filled with awe.
Gathering the fabric of the dress, he pulled it up over her head—until it snagged again.
“Ow!” she cried out. “My clip!”
He winced. “Sorry.”
