PEYTON
I squeal as Liam scoops me up from the floor. The blanket slips from my shoulders, puddling beside the dying embers of the fire as he carries me toward the stairs. I loop my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in the soft hair at his nape, and press my face against his throat to hide my giddy smile. His skin has its usual deliciously spicy scent, with a hint of woodsmoke added in from the fireplace.
When we get to the bedroom, he doesn’t drop me on the bed like I expect. He carries me through to the bathroom, where he lowers me to my feet in front of the wide mirror above the double sinks.
I frown up at him. “What are we doing in the bathroom?”
Liam flips me around, keeping behind me as our eyes meet in the mirror. “I thought you would want help with your hair after we deal with the dress.”
The buttons on this one aren’t even fake; they don’t hide a convenient zipper underneath. The stylist had to button them up one by one, and now Liam is about to reverse that process.
“May I?” His hands slide from my upper arms to between my shoulder blades.
I nod.
Our gazes stay locked in the mirror as his fingers find the first pearl button along the ridge of my spine.
It comes free with a soft snap.
But I feel that understated pop like a whiplash across my back. I might finally get what theFifty Shadeshype was about.
Liam undoes the second button.
I can’t tear my gaze from his reflection. Having him stand behind me while still being able to look into his eyes is the most sensual position I’ve ever experienced.
“Am I about to discover all your tattoos?” he asks.
I smile. “How long have you been obsessing about it?”
He leans forward and bites my earlobe. “From the moment you mentioned having them.”
“I—I—” It’s hard to form words with him in full seduction mode. “I only have one, and you’re on the right side to see it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Another button gives way. Then another.
With each one that pops free, the bodice loosens its grip on my ribs. I can breathe deeper, fuller. But a different pressure builds low in my belly—a tightening, an ache, a need that makes my breath shallow despite the increased room to expand my lungs.
“You okay?” Liam asks, his fingers pausing halfway down my spine.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.”
His lips curve into a smug smirk, and he continues his methodical work, releasing each button with the same torturous patience. When he reaches the last one, the dress hangs from my shoulders, still supported by tulle straps, with the back gaping open.
Liam trails a knuckle down the exposed line of my spine. I shiver despite the warmth building in my belly. Then he eases the straps off my shoulders. I watch in the mirror as his gazelowers, and he sees the butterfly inked on the back of my hip. He sinks to his knees behind me, hands on my waist, and drops a kiss on its wing, then the other.
“It is criminal that you haven’t let me see this until now.”
“You… err, like it?”
He trails kisses up the side of my back until he reaches my shoulder. “I love it.”
He leans forward.
“Better?” he asks against my neck.
I don’t even know how to answer. Yes, I can breathe better now, mostly, but my entire body is fizzing.
Liam hugs me from behind, closing his arms over that pulse in my core. I lean back into his embrace, my head falling against his chest, giving him better access to my neck.