"Holy crap," I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
The sight hit me like a freight train. I'd figured Emma would stumble out of the office with at least a blanket draped over her shoulders or maybe a hastily thrown-on shirt. Nope.
She stepped into the room buck naked, one hand pressed against her chest, the other shielding her lower half. Her bare skin glowed under the soft light—every inch of it exposed, vulnerable, and impossible to look away from.
"Damn, she's got a killer body," I thought, my eyes tracing her curves before I could even pretend to be subtle.
She avoided my gaze, her cheeks flushed, but it didn't matter—I'd already taken in every detail.
Her full breasts strained against the delicate lace of a bra she wasn't even wearing yet, a teasing image burned into my mind.
Her stomach was flat and smooth, dipping into a tiny waist before flaring out into wide, sculpted hips that practically demanded attention.
