Page 51 of All the Gossip from Paris
But her sister was now married to his brother and that added a whole layer of complexity to things.
The gown. She had to focus on the gown.
“Ok. Please turn around. I’ll get undressed, and into the gown,” said Sophie. He gave her a nod, then spun on his heel and faced toward the window.
“There were a lot of semi naked models wandering around back stage at Camille’s fashion show in New York. Is that the same during all the fashion shows?” he asked.
Sophie shrugged out of her coat, and toed off her boots. “Yeah, the titty parade is pretty much standard fair. But after a while I think one nipple becomes like all the others. You get to a point where you don’t even see them.”
When Liam cleared his throat, Sophie gave a dirty laugh. “You’re the one with the pierced cock, so you can’t tell me that nipples make you blush Mister Collins.”
She went for her sweater and pulled it over her head. Her long sleeved shirt followed, then finally her thermal undershirt. Paris in December was chilly. Sophie never liked being cold. Her jeans went next. For some silly reason she decided to keep her thick woolen socks on.
Now for the gown.
“Do you need any help?” he asked.
“In a minute,” replied Sophie, slowly unzipping the gown. It was a completed garment, and she’d a lifetime’s worth of experience in handling delicate fabrics. A torn dress could cost the House of Royal thousands of euros. With great care she lifted the gown away from the dressmakers model.
This design was sleeveless. She’d toyed with that part of the dress for many weeks, going back and forth with her sketches to see what worked. In the end no sleeves made sense. If the client wanted to cover up, Sophie would offer to make them a matching shawl.
The top of the dress was wide open, but she couldn’t see how she could get into it. She would need his assistance. “Liam, could you please come over here?”
She was still in her bra and panties, so it wasn’t as if he was going to catch an eyeful of anything. He certainly wouldn’t be getting the titty parade.
Liam turned and took a step or two closer. His gaze rested on her feet for a moment, and he chuckled. “Nice socks. Do they come with the gown?”
“No they don’t but they keep my feet warm. Here’s what I need you to do. If you could please hold that side of the top of the gown for me, I’ll hold the other side. Then I can make a clean move to get in.”
He did as she asked, and what had looked to be a problem was quickly solved. Sophie stepped into the gown, and between the two of them they lifted the heavily beaded bodice. She glanced down at her bra. She wasn’t going to be able to do the bodice up with it still on.
“We’re going to have to take the bra off. Otherwise I won’t get good photos,” said Liam.
Yes, he’d seen her naked. And his hands, lips, and tongue had been all over her breasts, but Sophie was still uncomfortable about letting Liam touch her body. This was her father’s atelier—not a luxury hotel suite many thousands of kilometers away.
“How do you want to handle this?” he asked.
The next time she saw Brenda Collins, she’d say thank you for having raised such a thoughtful son. She’d seen Patrice practically manhandle a model into a gown. So, Liam’s gentle concern was a refreshing change to the norm.
“If I hold the front of the gown, could you undo the back? How good are you with unhooking bras?”
Liam’s silence was enough of an answer. He didn’t live the life of a monk. The thought of him with anyone else, made Sophie a little sad.
While she held the gown to her chest, Liam made quick work of the hooks. Slipping her arms out of the bra one by one, she freed her breasts. After tossing the bra to one side, Sophie fitted the bodice to her body.
“I’ll do the zipper if you like,” he kindly offered.
With great care, Liam slowly closed the gown. When he was finished, he stood silently behind her for a moment. The air was suddenly thick with unresolved tension. Sophie swallowed. If he touched her again, she might just go up in flames.
His warm breath had goosebumps forming on her skin.
“Do you ever think about New York?” he whispered.
She hadn’t ever stopped thinking about that night. It would be so easy to simply say no. But the way they were with one another she sensed he would know it was a lie.
He might not have realized what he’d been doing, but during their shopping trip earlier in the day, Liam had touched his hands to her body at least a half dozen times. Sophie had kept count.
A gentle brush against her arm. His hand in the small of her back as they stepped onto the escalator. And she wouldn’t ever forget the moment he’d brushed her hair back from her face as she bent to look at a display case of Montblanc pens.
