Liam stepped through and stopped.
April was somewhere inside a tulle disaster, one arm pinned at an angle that suggested surrender, the other lost in fabric, her face barely visible through layers of material that had clearly won this fight several minutes ago.
“Oh, April.” She heard the smile in it, like he was trying not to laugh at her and failing respectfully.
She tried to summon dignity and came up empty. Dignity was not in the budget today.
Liam moved closer, hands reaching for the tulle, beginning to gather it, move it aside.
The fabric shifted and redistributed as he worked it, calmly requesting cooperation where she’d been losing a territorial dispute.
She saw him through the layers. Glimpses at first—his shoulder, the line of his jaw, the focused expression of someone treating this like a problem with a solution.
His eyes flicked to the curve of her shoulder where the strap had twisted, to the thin strip of skin the tulle wasn't covering. His hands hovered a second too long before their eyes met in the mirror.
Then his fingers touched her back. A question asked with skin.
April leaned into the contact before she'd decided to, her body had opinions it hadn't bothered to run by her first.
She felt like someone had handed her want without instructions.
“Please.”
Liam’s fingers stilled.
Then, carefully, they moved again, gathering the last of the tulle away.
His hands moved to the zipper. "Okay?"
April tried to nod. The strap wouldn't let her.
"Yes," she managed, and it came out like surrender and permission had briefly shaken hands.
Liam found the zipper pull.
He tried to ease it upward, met resistance, and adjusted his angle.
He stepped closer, close enough that the line of his chest met her inhale.
Still stuck.
April felt him shift, bringing his other hand up, both hands now working the place where fabric had caught in the zipper's teeth.
“Please don’t rip it.” April’s voice came out tighter than she meant.
“April.” He was close enough that she felt the word in her chest. “I have you.”
The zipper gave.
The dress slid down her body, then caught at her hips. April stood there, half-dressed and half-undone. Her black lace bra, absolutely visible in the mirror. She watched his gaze drop, the moment he registered the lace.
Their eyes met in the glass.
“Black lace,” Liam murmured, his voice rough. He kept her gaze in the mirror when he added, “Beautiful.”
“…even if you wore it for another man.”
“I—”
