Mariel gripped the sword tighter with every swing, her body twisting slightly, her breath coming in light bursts. She was learning fast. Her posture was better now, her grip firmer, the way she moved the blade more fluid than when she first held it.
But there were moments—Liam couldn't help but notice them.
Every time she lifted the sword a little too quickly or spun with too much force, her full, perky breasts would bounce gently beneath the red dress. The fabric clung to her body with each movement, outlining every curve, every sway. It wasn't intentional—she was too focused for that—but Liam's eyes betrayed him a few times, catching glimpses that made his throat tighten. He'd quickly look away each time, scolding himself silently.