The zipper stuck for a second, the fabric catching on a thread, and he paused, his fingers gentle as he worked it free. “Careful,” she said, but her voice was soft, not warning. He nodded, sliding the zipper down slow, the sound a low hum in the quiet room, until the dress fell open, pooling at her feet in a dark blue wave.
That’s when he froze. No bra, no slip—nothing but her, standing there in the dim light, her skin glowing like she’d swallowed the moon. He’d expected lace, something delicate, a hint of modesty, but this—this was bold, unapologetic, a deliberate choice that sent his pulse racing.
“Surprised?” she asked, and there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes, like she’d known exactly what his reaction would be. He nodded, dumbfounded, and she stepped closer, her hands resting on his chest, her fingers toying with the edge of his shirt. “Thought you’d appreciate the honesty,” she said, and he realized that’s what it was. No layers, no pretense, just the raw, unfiltered truth of her desire.
He’d been careful with the zipper, gentle with the fabric, like he was handling something fragile, but she wasn’t fragile. She was fierce, bright, and she’d laid herself bare not out of vulnerability, but out of trust—trust that he’d see it for what it was: a gift, not a challenge.
His hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer, and she sighed, soft and content, as his lips found her neck. “Careful’s good,” she murmured, “but you don’t have to hold back.” He kissed her, hard and deep, and let go of the last of his hesitation. Some things deserved to be handled with boldness, not caution—and she was one of them.