Page 152 of Their Arrangement

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The sound came soft—a coat shifting, shoes brushing tile.

Then—

He raised one hand. Not to touch me. Just a gesture. A warning. A promise.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

His voice was low.

Rough.

Like it scraped the inside of his chest just to be spoken.

“I need you to breathe.”

My breath caught again.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “It’s too—tight?—”

“Corset?”

I nodded.

Eyes still closed.

Hands still covering my face.

I heard him move.

Closer.

A pause.

Then the sound of him kneeling.

I froze.

“I’m going to help you.”

He said it like an oath. Like it mattered. Like I hadn’t already bled all over the fucking floor.

But still—I nodded.

Slow. Fragile.

He reached behind me. Fingers brushing the laces. Not skin. Not yet.

Just silk.

And then?—

Gently.

Quietly.

He began to loosen it.

I couldn’t speak. The tears were too close. But I nodded. Barely.

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