Liz
Rowan stepped away from me and I could tell it was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to reach for me again. Slowly, I slid the rest of the camisole from my body, watching as the soft fabric fell to the floor. My underwear followed next, and instinctively, my arms crossed over my chest.
I had never experienced being self-conscious before. I never had a reason to. But standing here in front of Rowan — bare, exposed, and vulnerable — I had nerves and anxiety rising inside of me like wildfire. He was strong. Secure. Built like the kind of man women whispered about Ana's dreamed of when they thought no one was listening. Rowan's body wasn't lacking in any sense... mine was.
Little to no definition. Curves that barely existed. My chest was small, nothing like the women men here
