Page 100 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

He didn’t hesitate. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

“I love you too,” he said, voice rough with it. “I think I’ve been trying not to for weeks, and I’ve been failing miserably.”

Robyn’s laugh came out on a shaky breath, eyes filling. “That’s good.” She wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “Because I just bought a bookstore. Which means I’m staying. Which means”—she gestured vaguely between them—“I’m going to need your help.”

Tyler laughed. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Well, for starters, you can help me take this thing off.” She reached behind herself for the corset laces, fingers fumbling at the top knot. The angle was impossible; she twisted, swore under her breath, then gave up with a huff.

Tyler’s gaze flicked to her hands, then back to her face. “It’s that complicated, huh?” He chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

He stepped behind her, close enough that he could feel the heat of their bodies mixing in the space between them.

One hand rested feather-light on her shoulder; the other found the top lace.

“Like this?” he murmured, tugging experimentally—slow, waiting for her yes.

“Yes.”

The first tug loosened the bow. He drew the silk cord through, each release accompanied by the soft rasp of fabric parting. Between movements, he bent and pressed his lips to the newly bared nape of her neck—once, twice, three times—as though every loosened tie was another fear peeling away and falling to the floor.

When the corset finally gaped open, he didn’t rush to strip it away. Instead, he slid his palms up her ribs, steadying her as she drew her first deep, unrestricted breath in hours. She shuddered—pleasure and relief in equal measure.

Tyler reached up next, fingers finding the first hairpin at her crown. He eased it free. Another. Another. Dark waves spilled over her shoulders in heavy sections; her posture softened with every pin that dropped onto the rug.

She turned in his arms, and he kissed her like a vow. The movement was slow, unhurried, and thorough.

Robyn melted into it, hands sliding beneath the open edges of his waistcoat, fingertips tracing the heat of his skin through cotton.

When they broke for air, she was smiling against his mouth. “You’re still wearing half your costume.”

“So are you.” His thumb brushed the black lace choker still circling her throat, the tiny garnet drop resting in the hollow. “Keep that on,” he said, voice rough. “Just that.”

Her laugh was low. She tugged him down with her as they sank backward onto the velvet chaise.

Tyler braced one hand beside her head, the other sliding up the outside of her thigh beneath the skirt, asking for permission with every pause, every brush of knuckles against skin.

She arched toward him, whispering, “Yes… please⁠—”

He pushed the silk higher, baring her to the candlelight. The red skirt fanned across the deep burgundy velvet of the chaise. Plush, tufted velvet caught every flicker from the lanterns overhead. Built for dramatic reclining. Less ideal, Tyler discovered, for anything that required precision when urgency made patience difficult.

He paused with his lips at the inside of her thigh, already calculating the awkward angle he’d have to crane into if he stayed where he was. He lifted his head, meeting her eyes—dark, amused.

“This thing’s beautiful,” he murmured, “but it’s not exactly built for worship from this angle.”

Robyn’s laugh came out breathless, delighted. She propped herself on her elbows, the black lace choker shifting at her throat. “I don’t know. I think we can make it work.”

He considered the chaise for a moment, with its high armrest and the long cushion. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across his mouth.

“Turn over,” he said, voice rough with promise. “Face the arm.”

She didn’t hesitate.

Robyn rolled onto her stomach and pushed up onto her knees. She braced her forearms along the scrolled arm, cheek resting against the velvet, hips lifted—offering him everything, letting the furniture hold her so she didn’t have to.

Tyler exhaled sharply at the sight. Her dark hair had slipped over one shoulder. The garnet drop at her throat caught the light. Red fabric bunched at her waist, her skin glowing against the deep velvet like it belonged there.