Plucking at the fabric and elastic of her panties, she grit her teeth as she tried not to focus on all the imperfections he now saw. Her soft belly. The faded stretchmarks that arched across her hips and stomach. Her dimpled thighs. Just keep going. Get it over with. Right as she reached back to unhook her bra, Silas made a low rumbling noise and she paused. “Turn for me,” he urged, shifting a little in his seat. “Let me see that perfect arse covered in black lace.” Perfect. He’d just called her ass perfect.
