“Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.” I swear to God, those words came out of his mouth. My jaw fell open. His face went red. “Fuck. Sorry.” “For what? It was a compliment.” “Men shouldn’t comment on women’s bodies.” “But did you mean it—what you said?” “Yes.” “Then say it again,” I demanded, my pulse racing. He looked me in the eye. “Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.”
