Page 73 of Their Arrangement
Everything inside me screamed no.
But I wasn’t sure if it was fear or shame or something worse.
“…yes.”
A soft click.
The lock released.
The stall door opened—and there he was.
Loyal.
In a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled, tie askew. He looked uncomfortable. Not awkward. Just… like he didn’t want to see me like this. But he did anyway.
His eyes swept over me—knees tucked to my chest, red eyes, the corset still hugging my ribs.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t leer.
He knelt.Slow. Deliberate.
Like I was made of glass.
“I can’t get it off,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “It’s meant to be impossible alone.”
Of course it was.
He didn’t touch me right away.
He just sat with me.
Silent.
Let me breathe.
Let me unravel.
“Turn around.”
I did.
Fingers brushed my back. Warm. Steady. He pushed my hair over one shoulder.
His breath grazed my neck.
Then his fingers found the ribbon.
He worked slowly.
Carefully.
Unthreading each pass of silk without pulling, without snagging. The corset loosened with each movement.
Finally—I could breathe.
