"That's what I thought."
He reaches for his shirt and unbuttons it with deliberate slowness.
I should close my eyes. Should look away. Should refuse to participate in whatever this is.
I don't.
I watch as he strips off his shirt, revealing a body I've never seen before.
Lean muscle without being bulky.
Broad shoulders that taper to a narrow waist.
A chest and stomach that show he takes care of himself—no gym obsession, just natural fitness maintained with discipline.
There's a scar on his left side, near his ribs.
It looks old and I can’t help but wonder how he got it.
The thought makes me angry at myself.
I shouldn't be curious about his scars, his history, or anything about him beyond how to escape.
But I am.
He's beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight.
The thought makes me angrier.
He shouldn't be beautiful.
Shouldn't make me want to look, to touch, to trace those muscles with my fingers.
He unbuckles his belt.
The sound of the leather sliding through the loops makes my breath catch.
He unzips his jeans with that same deliberate slowness.
Pushing them down along with his boxer briefs in one smooth motion.
And then he's naked.
Completely naked in front of me.
And aroused.
Very, very aroused.
I've never seen a man naked before.
Never seen—that.
It's bigger than I expected.
Harder. Thicker.
Fear spikes through me, sharp and cold.
