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“Ryker?” Dace’s voice called. “Are you in there?”
“Yeah…yes,” I stuttered, reaching behind me to find the zipper. The tips of my fingers swiped near the zipper not quite reach it.I’d just zipped it moments before. Come on.
“May I come in?” His beautiful, dulcet voice asked.
No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.I wanted to shout as I arched and curved my back while my arms twisted in every odd angle I swore I had tried successfully before.Why can’t I reach this damn zipper?
“Just a minute, I’m changing.”
It was all I could manage, and it sounded more like a question than an answer to his. Dace was waiting outside my door for me, and every minute it took to try and pull this dress off me made the lingering silence between us feel more awkward. Even if I couldn’t see him.
“Are you alright in there? Are you sure you don’t need a hand?” he hummed after a few more minutes passed.
I whined to myself, frowning at the heat in my cheeks as I tried and failed to snag the one thing that could get this gown off my body. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I tried again to sound more sure about my answer. But every single attempt was failing and I could live in this gown or make the prince—oops, not prince—wait outside my door forever.
The mirror before me reflected back my panic. My pinched cheeks were more than pink; my whole face was damn near red. I stared back at myself with wide eyes, trying to tame my uneven breaths.
Shit. I need help.
I wondered what Dace thought of the noise the gown made as I kicked at the trailing fabric on my way toward him. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stuck just my head out. Dace tipped his chin and arched a blond brow. The hall around him was empty, no wandering, gossipy Nymphs to spread the word that I was about to snatch him into my room.
The silky, half-buttoned, mint-blue shirt on his chest bunched in my fist. Dace’s mouth fell open as I yanked him into my room and slammed the door closed behind him.
“Woah,” he chuckled, holding his hands up. Then his jaw quickly clamped shut and his eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat taking in everything that was the far too revealing dress I wore. “I feel like I may be underdressed. What’s the occasion? Got a fancy date?” he finally said.
This is so embarrassing, I cried internally. Suddenly, I was extremely aware of how much upper and side cleavage I had showing. Plus, now I was going to have to confess to being that stupid girl who wanted to wear stupid, fancy dresses when I was sonotthat girl.
“I tried it because I thought it was pretty. And now I can’t reach the zipper on my own. It’s stuck,” I whispered like someone was spying on us, as if me wearing this dress was something of significance.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The dress is stuck. On me,” I hissed again stepping closer to him.
He leaned down, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“I tried the damn dress on because I wanted to feel pretty, and now I’m stuck in this damn thing,” I whisper shouted, my hands rushing to my cheeks to cover the way they burned crimson under his amused gaze.
He licked his lips, then smirked. “Are you asking me to undress you?”
“No,” I paused. “I—”
But I was.
By the Mother, I just asked the former prince of the Twinity Court to take my clothes off. What am I thinking?
This had been a foolish idea. I should have just greeted him and fed him some load of bullshit about me getting ready to wander off for some sort of royal meeting that there wasn’t any possibility of. A ball. I should have told him we were throwing a ball. Damn, any lie would have been better than the truth.
“I just need help with the zipper.” I frowned, dropping my hands and playing with the dripping crystals.
“All you had to do was ask.”
He straightened the cuffs on his sleeves like this was an everyday thing. He probably had helped more girls out of their gowns over the years than I even wanted to know. That thought sent a sliver of want straight between my legs and a pang of unwanted jealousy clenched my heart. Because I didn’t want to be just one of those girls.
My tangled hair had fallen over my shoulders, covering the top of the dress. I pulled the strands to the side and offered him my back. His breath hitched before I felt it drift over my skin. His fingers brushed above the zipper then tugged it down. With both arms, I clung to the top of the dress.
Dace cleared his throat and stepped away. “Would you like me to leave the room again?”
“Turning around will suffice.” Holding the gown to my body did at least one thing, it hid how much my hands were actually trembling.
