My eyes darted back to my chest, but the damage was done. His hands were everywhere, exploring, asserting dominance over my body in a way that should have terrified me but instead left me craving more. I turned my water to cold, hoping to shock myself back to some version of normal. Every movement sent electric jolts through me, lighting up parts of my body I didn’t even know existed. Way lower. My inferiority complex was on fire at the sight of it, like it had been designed to make me feel inadequate. My brain was glitching, caught between panic and other nerves as he washed my hairless globes. He started soaping himself up casually, not a trace of insecurity, running the lather across his chest and down his arms with a casualness that made my skin crawl with envy—and something else I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
