Charlotte Sanguinite
For a moment, Robert doesn’t say anything. Then, he enters the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His voice hoarse, he asks me, “Need a hand?”
“Yes.” It’s not easy to speak when his eyes are devouring me like that.
As he approaches me, I mumble, “I was just trying it on, and the zipper got stuck. I wasn’t trying to—I mean, I thought you would be gone for a while, and—”
“It looks good on you.” Robert comes to stand behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror. My face is red, and I don’t know which way to look. “Why did you buy it?” he murmurs, his hand settling on my stomach.
My heart is pounding so hard, I know he can hear it.
I consider lying, but the truth forces its way out of me. “I wanted to be confident, like you are.”
“Confident?” Robert gi
