"Did you wear this to work?" She could feel the heat of him, inches away from where he was helping her with the dress.
“Under those sensible blouses he bought you,” he said, his voice lower now, nearer her ear. “Knowing no one could see?”
April’s head fell back against his shoulder.
She felt him go still.
She waited for guilt. It didn't come. What arrived instead was a want so clean and simple it scared her.
"Don't stop."
The sound he made was quieter this time, rough enough to make her skin prickle. Her nipples tightened against the lace, the fabric suddenly abrasive where it hadn’t been before.
His hands slid to her waist, thumbs pressing against the curve of her ribs.
“You can tell me to stop,” he said against her ear. “Any time.”
April watched him in the mirror. His hands found the gathered dress at her waist, and for a second he didn’t move, then his fingers tightened in the tulle and slid the fabric down until the dress landed at her feet.
She stepped free, standing before him in nothing but her bra and matching panties.
His gaze raked over her in the mirror. “Jesus,” he breathed.
April felt him then, hard against her lower back through the layers of his clothes.
His hand moved to her hip first, testing, she leaned into it and his hand slid up the inside of her thigh, agonizingly slow, fingers tracing patterns on sensitive skin.
“Tell me if this is too much,” he murmured. “Or not enough. You’re allowed to ask for what you want.”
"I want—" April's voice shook. "I want this."
“More specific.” His fingers paused just below the edge of lace.
April stared at their reflections. Him behind her, barely contained. And her, caught between wanting and the part of herself that still expected punishment for it.
"Touch me," she whispered. "Please."
Liam licked his lips, hands clenched. "Take it off."
April's hands went to the clasp. The tiny click when it released seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. The lace fell away.
Liam exhaled like he'd been holding his breath. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, and she felt the shudder run through him.
When he lifted his head, his reflection in the mirror looked like a man seeing something he'd kept locked away brought into the light, and finding it more beautiful than he'd ever let himself imagine.
Liam pressed her forward slightly so her hands braced against the glass. The cold surface bit into her palms. Behind her, he was a wall of heat and expensive fabric.
"Watch," he said, his voice rough but somehow still gentle. "I want you to see what happens when you let yourself want something."
One hand cupped her breast, testing the weight, learning the shape. His thumb circled her nipple with deliberate pressure. It peaked under his touch and April arched into his hand, a soft gasp escaping.
"God, you're responsive," he murmured.
Her breasts were heavy and oversensitive. Every nerve ending felt raw.
He increased the pressure, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, and April's hips rolled involuntarily. Behind her, Liam groaned, caught between pleasure and restraint.
“That's it," he encouraged.
