“I did. It’s finished.” The lie came easily. “You look like you’re having trouble.”
She glanced back at the mirror, then at me, uncertainty written all across her face. Finally, she sighed. “I can’t reach the laces. They’re too high up.”
“Turn around.”
She slowly turned to face the mirror, moving her hair over her shoulder and presenting her back to me. Her pale skin and the sight of the beautiful nape of her neck practically made my mouth water.
I stepped closer, close enough to smell the lingering scent of roses in her hair and the faint vanilla of her perfume. My fingers found the top of the laces, and I began working them loose, one eyelet at a time.
Ella was perfectly still as I worked, but I could see her watching me in the mirror.
“There,” I said quietly as
