Lane's POV (1st person):
The evening had gone more smoothly than I had anticipated. I had invited Miss Taylor to dinner at my home to see if she could handle herself with respect and maturity in a different setting. I wanted to see if she could demonstrate the responsibility needed for the upcoming field trip.
She arrived on time, looking stunning in a simple yet elegant dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her black hair cascaded in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of nervousness and determination.
"Miss Taylor," I greeted her, feeling a rare smile tugging at my lips. "Come in."
As we sat down to dinner, I couldn't help but notice how nervous she was. She fumbled with the silverware, clearly trying to remember which fork to use. Her attempts to maintain composure were endearing, and I had to cover my mouth to hide my amusement more than once.
"Miss Taylor, are you all right?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even when she knocked over her water glass.
"Yes, I'm fine, s-sir," she stammered, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of red.
Despite the awkwardness, I found myself enjoying her company. There was something genuine about her, something that made it hard to keep up the stern facade I usually wore.
"Very well," I said, handing her a napkin and doing my best to hide a smile.
After a few more awkward moments, she excused herself to use the bathroom. I watched her leave, a mixture of amusement and curiosity filling me.
She had been gone for a while, and I decided to check on her. As I walked upstairs, I noticed a door slightly ajar. I peeked inside and saw her standing in the room where I had taken care of her that night when she was drunk. The memory of her accidental touch made my cheeks warm, and I quickly pushed the thought aside.
"Miss Taylor," I said, my voice low and controlled. "What are you doing up here?"
She jumped, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "I-I was just looking for the bathroom," she stammered, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"This isn't the bathroom," I said firmly, stepping into the room and blocking her path.
"I know. I'm sorry, Mr. Montgomery," she said, trying to edge past me.
"You seem to have a knack for finding trouble," I murmured, feeling a strange mixture of frustration and something else I couldn't quite name.
As she tried to step back, her heel caught on the edge of the carpet, and she lost her balance. Instinctively, she reached out to grab onto something—anything—and ended up grabbing my shirt. The unexpected force pulled me forward, and we both tumbled to the floor. She landed on top of me, our faces just inches apart.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice breathless with surprise.
"I-I'm fine," she stammered, her cheeks a delightful shade of red. As she tried to push herself up, I realised her dress was caught on something. I glanced down and saw it was snagged on the bed frame.
"Oh, no," she muttered, tugging at the fabric. "It's stuck."
I looked at the situation, my eyes widening slightly. "Hold still," I said, my hands gently gripping her waist to steady her.
I felt a shiver run down my spine at the contact. "I can't move," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I tried to free the fabric, but it was no use. "You're going to have to take off the dress," I said, my voice low and controlled.
YOU ARE READING
Between The Lines
RomanceI took my usual seat in the back corner, far away from the line of fire that always seemed to follow Mr. Montgomery's gaze. I tried to disappear into the safety of my textbook, but his piercing blue eyes seemed to find me anyway, as if daring me to...
