With back pressed against the wall, Olivia's breath was coming in uneven little pulls, her wrists still pinned above her head in Kafka's grip.
The humiliation was already suffocating, not just because she was bare-chested in front of him, but because he had seen it. The one thing she had sworn she would never let him see.
Her nipples....Sunken, hidden away in the soft pink swell of her areolas.
A thing she had spent years believing was wrong, unattractive, strange, an anomaly no "proper" woman should have. She had grown up with that belief etched into her bones.
That anyone who saw them would find them off-putting, even disgusting.
And Kafka's opinion?...His gaze mattered far more than she'd ever admit aloud. The idea of him thinking that way about her made her feel sick. It was why she had been so careful, for so long.
