The curtain had barely closed behind him.
Liam had followed her in before the fabric had fully settled, pulling it shut behind him, the small space of the fitting room closing around both of them. The mirror on the back wall reflected everything. The little bench along the side. Clara in her white swimsuit, her blonde hair loose, her blue eyes going wide the moment she realized he had come in after her.
"Liam—" She turned to face him, her voice dropping immediately to a whisper. "What are you doing."
He didn't answer.
He stepped toward her and put his hands on her waist and lowered his mouth to her neck.
"Liam." Her voice cracked on the word. "What if we get caught—"
'Seeing you in that swimsuit,' he thought, his lips moving along the line of her neck, his hands sliding around to her ass and spreading across the full curve of it, 'there was no way I was staying on that bench.'
He squeezed.
