I was about to retreat to the bedroom to give her a moment when she turned around, fingers struggling with the zipper of her dress.
“Can you help me with this?” she asked.
I froze for a second.
Her back was to me, hair falling in loose waves down her shoulders, and the red dress shimmered faintly in the low light. One strap had already slid off her shoulder, revealing smooth skin and the edge of her spine, and she reached for the zipper again but fumbled.
I stepped forward and gently brushed her hair aside, my fingers grazing the nape of her neck.
My knuckles skimmed her spine as I found the zipper and tugged it down slowly, careful not to catch the delicate fabric.
As the dress loosened around her, she let out a breath of relief. It pooled at her feet like water, and she stepped out of it with grace that looked too effortless for how exhausted she must’ve been.
I stood there longer than I should’ve, watching her in the soft, fractured moonlight. She turned her head slightly toward me, eyes half-lidded.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “Of course.”
The temptation to kiss her was immediate.
Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to her neck, feeling her body relax into the touch. A quiet moan escaped her lips as she leaned into me, her skin warm under my mouth.
I backed her gently toward the table, my hands exploring the curve of her waist, her body yielding to me. I kissed her again—this time deeper, more urgent, as though I couldn’t get enough.
But then I remember the call she had with Marcus and froze.
Suddenly, Vince’s words ran through my mind brutally.
Long-distance only works when someone’s too busy chasing their own shit to notice how miserable they are. So they settle for what they have, even if it’s a million miles away.
I pulled away, and she went still, her gaze unfocused.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Just need a shower to clear my head. It’s been a long day.”
She nodded, her brow furrowing slightly. “Oh, okay.”
And what about after that? Could I manage to perform after the day we both had? Or was it better to save everything until we were in a better headspace?
“Carmen,” I began. “I think we should talk a little after. Okay?”
She yawned. She was past exhausted at this point.
“Okay, Teddy.”
She walked toward the guest bathroom in just her strapless bra and panties, her silhouette lit by the glow spilling from under the bathroom door as she switched on the light.
I turned away and disappeared into our bedroom’s ensuite.
Steam filled the bathroom before I even peeled my shirt off. I moved on autopilot—water on, clothes shed in a blur. But my mind was nowhere near my body.
This was stupid. What the fuck was I doing?
Why did her call with Marcus bother me this much?
Why did Vince’s bullshit stick?
