"Get out," I snapped, not just to her, but to the servants who were still frozen in place. "Everyone. Now."
They scattered without a word.
Silence fell. Only she and I remained by the pool.
She didn't speak.
Her arms crossed over her chest in a feeble attempt to hide herself, trembling as she hunched lower, soaked and shivering. But the movement only pushed her breasts up, pressing them together beneath the soaked fabric, the cloth clinging like second skin. It outlined everything—every curve, every swell—and the way her arms squeezed against her chest only made them look fuller. Round, firm… perfect. Not too big, not too small. Just the kind that would fit perfectly into a man's hands. Into my hands.
My throat dried.
Gods.
