365 Days

Wedding Dress

Claire’s POV

Vladimir pointed to the towel with a casual gesture.

Her gaze followed his finger, landing on the towel carelessly draped over the bed. Great, she thought. Just what I needed—another reason to be embarrassed.

She stepped toward the bed, still trying to ignore the heat spreading across her cheeks.

She couldn’t see his body anymore from this side, and that was a relief.

Good. Just get it over with, she told herself, trying to focus.

She grabbed the towel, but then, a rush of guilt hit her.

Ah, it wasn’t intentional. Just don’t think about it, Claire. Get it together.

Her mind started to wander again. Why does this feel so... charged?

Of course, he wasn’t expecting her to be here. He was just... him. But still... Her thoughts scattered as she gripped the towel a little too tightly, trying to avoid looking back at him.

Before she could throw it to him, he stopped her.

“Don’t throw it on my face, just give it to me, Claire.”

His voice was firm, but his smile was playful—just like him.

Claire hesitated, standing still for a moment, torn between obeying him and refusing.

He didn’t mean anything by this, she tried to tell herself. But still... The way he stood there, half-dressed, made it impossible to ignore how close they were, how vulnerable this whole situation made her feel.

She took a step toward him, unwilling to let the tension continue to stretch between them.

When she got within a meter of him, he reached for the towel. But her body had other plans. She instinctively moved closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. That’s when it happened—his hand brushed against hers as they both reached for the towel. The connection sent a shock through her, making her breath hitch.

His eyes locked with hers, and for a split second, the world felt too small.

Why does this feel like we’re in a different universe?

Then, before she could pull away, she felt Vladimir gently pulling her toward him.

Her heart skipped a beat. What is he doing?!

She blinked once, then twice, not believing what was happening.

"What are you doing?!" Her voice was shaky, filled with shock.

But he didn’t answer. His grip remained, steady and unrelenting as he pulled her even closer.

Her body was on autopilot now—she tried to remove his hand, but Vladimir’s strength was too much for her. It was like her body was betraying her, letting him lead her against her will.

Then, as if in slow motion, she reached the door. The moment her foot caught on the edge, she stumbled, but Vladimir caught her in a swift movement. She could feel the heat from his skin, the bare skin of his chest brushing against her back as he steadied her.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Oh my god...

She blinked, trying to gather herself, but when she finally dared to look up, there was no avoiding it. His body was there, fully exposed, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away. From head to toe, he was completely naked, and the vulnerability of the moment was both overwhelming and impossible to ignore.

Her eyes moved involuntarily, tracking the lines of his body, stopping at his abdomen. She felt a heat rising inside her chest, and her cheeks burned bright red.

Shit! What am I supposed to do with this?

"How is it?" Vladimir’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Did you grade my body well?" His smirk only made her pulse race faster, the teasing tone too much to handle.

She blinked, unsure how to respond. Her mind was scrambling for words. "Wh-what?" she stammered, feeling a mix of confusion and something else—something that felt dangerously close to desire.

He laughed softly, amused by her reaction, before pulling her closer again. This time, she couldn’t escape.

Before she could react, Vladimir’s arms encircled her, and in an instant, she was in his hold. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to understand what was happening.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t let this happen.

"I-I—" The words didn’t come out. She wanted to push him away, but her body betrayed her again. He was too close. His touch was too much.

His hand brushed her back, a subtle but intentional move. "Should I remove your dress for you?"

She froze. Did he just... Her thoughts spiraled. "I-I can manage," she whispered, trying to regain some semblance of control. This isn’t supposed to happen.

But Vladimir didn’t release her. Instead, he seemed to only get more determined.

"I’m fine. I can do it," she murmured, but before she knew it, his hands were already moving.

With a soft but deliberate touch, he gently eased his arms around her, guiding them to her sides, and slowly began to remove the fabric of her dress.

"Vladimir!" she gasped, the shock in her voice unmistakable. "Stop!"

But he didn’t stop. He only smiled, his face calm but his eyes burning with something Claire couldn’t even try to interpret. He slowly unhooked her dress, his fingers moving with a patient intensity.

Her heart pounded faster than it should have, her body betraying every thought she had about stopping him.

"Stop!" she said again, but he only smiled, a low chuckle escaping him.

She felt his fingers graze her skin, his hands slowly pulling her straps down, first one, then the other. The dress slipped further, and Claire could feel herself losing the battle. She was exposed in front of him, her white underwear the only barrier between them.

"Look at you now, struggling," he said softly, almost affectionately.

Claire closed her eyes, but his voice made her open them again. "Look at me, Claire."

Her breath caught. No. Her body was tense, but despite every part of her screaming to close off, she couldn’t do it. She slowly opened her eyes, and his face was there—right in front of hers. The man she married, but now, in a completely different light. His features were impossibly perfect, his gaze unwavering.

"Good," he murmured, his voice husky, and then his hands were on her face. His fingers traced her eyebrows, her eyes, and finally, her lips.

"You’re beautiful, Claire," he whispered, his voice rough. "Don’t cover yourself."

She flinched at the tenderness of his touch, her arms instinctively moving to cover herself again. But his hands gently caught her wrists, guiding them away from her body.

"Let me see all of you," he said softly, his words pulling at something deep inside her.

For a moment, she hesitated. But the look in his eyes—deep, possessive, and filled with an intensity that left no room for doubt—made her heart race. He was not asking her to do anything. He was simply showing her that he wanted this. Wanted her.

She let him remove her arms from her body, surrendering to him in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

"There," Vladimir said again, his voice soft with admiration as his eyes roamed over her, as if committing every detail to memory.