I’m standing here with my chest heaving and the laptop clenched to my stomach when I realize I’m in front of Jake, in my pink lace bra. His eyes travel from my face to my décolletage and skim over the swell of my breasts, making his chocolate eyes turn black before they pop back up with a smile. “You do know, clothing isn’t optional at Shooter’s, right? I believe you’re required to wear a shirt.”
