I stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner. The house felt too quiet. My hands moved automatically, slicing carrots and potatoes while my mind wandered. The bank statements kept flashing in my head. S. Reed. All that money going out every month. David had been hiding something big for years. I still did not know what to do with that information.
My top was loose and comfortable, a simple white button-up that I had not bothered to button all the way. It kept slipping off one shoulder. I was not wearing a bra underneath. My breasts felt heavy and sensitive today, bouncing slightly with every movement of the knife. I did not care. No one was around to see me anyway.
Or so I thought.
Strong hands suddenly cupped my breasts from behind. Big, warm palms squeezed them gently. Thumbs
