Chapter 24 #2
Her heart stuttered. He didn’t speak right away, didn’t smirk or offer some dry remark. He stood there, his gaze moving slowly, deliberately, from her face down the length of the gown and back up again—an unhurried assessment that made her skin feel tight.
For a long moment, they didn’t move. The air between them thinned. She couldn’t seem to draw a full breath. Then he walked forward, his soles quiet on the carpeted floor.
“You look,” he said at last, his voice low and rough, “like every star in the sky came down just to rest on your shoulders.”
The words spread like warmth through her chest. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at the shimmering fabric of her gown, a feeble anchor in the sudden, profound stillness settling around them. “It’s the dress.”
Ark’s gaze, dark and unwavering, softened. “I don’t believe so.”
She felt suddenly flustered. “Well, no matter what, it’ll have to do.”
“It will do splendidly.”
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the distant hum of life beyond the windows a world away. The space between them seemed to contract, charged with everything they couldn’t say.
She broke first, the silence becoming too loud, too full. “Opalina and Lilibeth—”
Her sentence trailed off as she turned, expecting to find them beaming nearby. She was met with empty space. Her brow lifted in genuine surprise, the spell of the moment finally snapping. “—were right here a moment ago.”
Ark followed her gaze, as if just realizing it too.
“They’re either giving us privacy,” Cassia murmured, “or planning something.”
A faint smile curved Ark’s mouth. “Both, probably.”
Cassia stepped down from the platform. She turned slightly, a helpless gesture toward the intricate lattice of buttons and ties securing the masterpiece to her body. “I need to get out of this. Opalina will kill me if I strain the seams.”
She scanned the room for her friends, but Opalina and Lilibeth were still conspicuously, and undoubtedly intentionally, gone.
His gaze was still fixed on her, a silent, stormy intensity. “I’ll wait.”
She retreated into the dressing room. After a futile minute of twisting and straining, her fingers couldn’t even reach the first tiny silk loop at the top of her spine.
How long should she attempt this impossible contortion?
She’d spend the night in this changing room before she managed to undo one button.
Already, she was out of breath, her neck hot with frustration.
Cassia cracked the door open, just enough to call out, her voice tight with embarrassment. “. . . Ark?”
He was there in an instant. “Yes?”
“I—I can’t. The buttons are impossible.”
A moment of silence, then: “Would you like assistance?”
She shut her eyes tight and counted to ten. “. . . Yes, please.”
Without a word, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The small space shrank, filled with his presence and the scent of twilight air and rain clinging to him.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice lower than usual.
She complied, presenting her back to him, heart hammering against her ribs. The first touch of his fingers on the bare skin sent a jolt through her. She sucked in a sharp, silent breath as the prickle on the bond mark intensified.
His hands were methodical, his movements precise, but each release of a button felt like a slow, deliberate stroke.
The air grew thick, charged with the soft sounds of their breathing and the whisper of silk sliding through its fastenings.
With every inch of skin he exposed, she felt a corresponding flutter deep within her.
They’d kissed, but this was the most intimate thing they had ever done—this silent, careful unveiling.
She was so aware of his body heat behind her, of the focused intensity of his attention on the line of her spine.
Finally, the last button gave way. The dress loosened, its weight settling into her hands as she clutched it to her breasts. The cool air washed over her entire back, and she felt utterly, completely revealed.
She glanced over her shoulder, her voice a breathless thread of sound. “Thank you.”
He gave a tight, almost pained nod, his dark eyes lingering on the exposed line of her shoulders for a heartbeat too long before he turned and stepped out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Cassia let out a trembling breath.
She leaned against the doorframe, then peeled off the borrowed gown and reached for her own clothes.
Her fingers quivered as she fastened the buttons of her high-necked cream blouse and tucked it into her deep-green wool skirt, the simplicity of her clothing a fragile shield.
She found Ark standing by the window, hands in his pockets, studying the street. When he turned, the silence between them seemed rife with the memory of his hands on her bare skin, the soft give of buttons.
She looked up at him. “Walk me home?”
The words had slipped out—and she realized, with a startling clarity, that she didn’t want to take them back. She didn’t want the night to end. She felt safe with him. The space he occupied had become a place she sought.
His answer came immediately. He offered his arm, as if he’d been waiting for the invitation.
“I insist,” he said.