Ric’s gaze flickers, darkening slightly as he pulls back just enough to study my face. His hands hover at my hips, gripping me just tight enough to remind me of his presence, but not tight enough to keep me close. “What happened?” His voice is rougher, though his hands remain still.
I let out a breath, feeling the tension coil between us. “My stylist will be mad if I don’t get a proper picture in this dress,” I say, forcing a light tone, but the weight of the moment presses on me.
Ric’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk, but he doesn’t fully relax. His thumb brushes my waist in a slow, deliberate motion. “Is that what you're worried about?” His voice is low, teasing. “A picture?”
I shrug, though the closeness makes it impossible to keep my cool. “Yes. She worked on it for weeks. It w
