Everything I had

Part 143.

Tom's pov~

I knew I owed Marry an apology, and I knew equally well she would grant me one — even if all I offered was a single text.

On Wednesday I collected her from the university. Since we couldn't risk being seen in public together, I brought her back to mine, where a pair of masseuses were waiting. That was new for Marry. Massages. She didn't know what to expect, nor whether she was comfortable undressing in front of strangers, but the look I gave her assured her it was all right.

Besides, she was still wearing the same tired clothes. When she unwrapped the white silk dress that afternoon, she didn't say no.
"You should try it on," I murmured.

Marry held it up, a crooked, uncertain smile tugging at her lips.
"This must have cost a fortune, right?"
"Marry," I sighed. The price was of no consequence to me. Costly, yes — but nothing close to the bespoke gowns my wife owned.

Clutching the dress to her chest, she slipped into the bedroom. I scrolled absently through my phone until, minutes later, the door opened again and Marry stepped back into the room.

The dress hung loosely on her frame, straps slipping from her shoulders, neckline carefully hidden by her hand. The truth was she hadn't yet regained a healthy body, and I could only hope in time she might fill the gown properly.

"Wow," I breathed, grinning broadly. I shoved my phone into my back pocket, giving her my full attention.
"It's a bit revealing, don't you think?" she asked, tugging at the fabric. Perhaps she thought so because her shoulders were bare, or because the neckline hinted at a curve — but I shook my head.
"And is that such a terrible thing?" I murmured, brushing a finger along the strap at her shoulder, rolling the silk between my fingertips. She looked up at me, hopeful.

"Have you seen yourself in the mirror yet?" I asked. She shook her head. I knew her well enough to know she avoided mirrors whenever possible.
"Come," I said, guiding her back into the bedroom.

She had no choice now. She turned this way and that before the glass, watching herself, while I studied her reflection. Her eyes travelled slowly down, from her socked ankles to the hem of the dress. It was almost comical, the combination, but on her — it was endearing.

For the first time, her hands rested at her sides, not hiding herself but simply allowing herself to be seen. The dress still hung loose, no denying that, yet when I pinched the fabric at her back to reveal the suggestion of a figure, she swallowed hard, a tiny gasp slipping out.

"You're beautiful, don't you think?" I whispered against her ear — a word spoken too loudly felt as though it might shatter the moment.

At first, she wouldn't agree. Her chin didn't lift, her lips didn't part. But then she took the smallest step back, and her spine pressed against my chest. Whether deliberately or by accident, she was flush against me. My left arm curled around her waist; my right hand slid to her shoulder, tugging the strap with ease until it slipped down her arm.

Marry watched.
She didn't resist.

Her collarbones jutted out, delicate and smooth. I bent to place soft kisses along her neck, and a shiver coursed down her back. Her fingers tangled into my curls, as if she had given herself over to both the comfort and the danger of me.

Sucked on her neck, leaving wet trails behind. And my left hand curled around the other strap, sliding it down as well. Now it was held by nothing and draped down her body so delicately.

Marry didn't wear a bra. Her panties was the only piece of fabric covering her body. And not even that was safe from me.

I traced my fingers along her stomach, further and further down until I reached the waistband. A shuddering breath flowed through her lungs, nails digging deeper into my curls.