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“It wasn’t supposed to.”
“I’m never drinking again.”
“Good.”
“What’s your deal with alcohol anyway?” She peers up at me asking a question that opens a wound she can’t possibly understand.
“It’s not a deal with alcohol so much as losing control, but that’s a conversation for a day when you haven’t been drinking.”
I get her water and she manages to keep it down. By the time I’m convinced she’s finished, she’s shivering on the bathroom floor in a corset I spent the entire fucking ride home trying not to look at.
I grab one of my old North Pines T-shirts and set it on the counter. “Put this on.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She gestures vaguely over her shoulder. “Avery tied me into this thing. I can’t reach it.”
Of course she can’t.
“Up.” I hold out my hand.
She slips hers into mine, and I pull her carefully to her feet. The second she’s upright, she sways, and my other hand catches her waist.
“Easy.” I guide her in front of the sink and wait until she has both hands braced against the counter before I let go.
Her eyes find mine in the mirror.
Her hair is a mess around her shoulders, cheeks still flushed, the thin strip of black velvet circling her throat. I reach for it first, sweeping her hair aside and working the small knot loose at the nape of her neck.
After a few fumbles, the ribbon slides free through my fingers. I set it on the counter and turn my attention to the corset.
Tiny black laces crisscross her back, ending in a knot that looks like it was tied by a sailor. It takes an embarrassing amount of concentration to work it loose with hands that were not built for delicate little fucking ribbons and knots.
My knuckles brush her back.
Delaney goes still. So do I. When I lift my head, she’s watching me in the mirror.
Something about her having her back to me while her emerald eyes stay on mine makes this feel entirely different than it should.
I drop my gaze to the knot.
Focus.
It finally gives beneath my fingers, and I slowly loosen the laces until the corset relaxes around her.
“There.”
Her shoulders sink with a quiet breath. I keep one hand at her waist when she wobbles again, waiting until she’s steady before stepping away.
“Think you can handle the rest?”
She nods. “Can you please bring my toothbrush?”
“Sure.”
I bring her stuff and it with the shirt within reach on the counter. “I’ll be right outside.”
