Mia didn't know if the thump of her heart or the sway of her chest was louder as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, analyzing her outfit for the third time. She'd gone through four bras, two tanks, and settled—finally—on a snug white tee that barely contained her curves. Her breasts stretched the fabric enough that the faint outline of her lace bra peeked through, unapologetic and defiant.
Will was downstairs, helping unpack the new speakers she ordered for her home office. But the real tension wasn't in the wires or tech—it was in how he looked at her yesterday, his fingers brushing hers too slowly to be casual.
She was no stranger to attention. With a figure that defied logic—and bra sizes—Mia had long stopped trying to minimize her assets. But with Will, it wasn't about looks. It was the way he hesitated, how his gaze dipped low and lingered like he was caught in some unspoken gravity. He'd try to look away, polite, but his eyes always returned.
She walked down the stairs, hips swaying more than necessary. His head turned immediately.
"Whoa," Will muttered, eyes wide.
She played innocent. "What?"
He blinked, swallowed. "That shirt is... working overtime."
Mia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed under her chest, deliberately pushing the weight of her breasts up. "Maybe you should help me test its limits."
His jaw flexed. He didn't move toward her. But his eyes... God, they traveled. Bold. Careful. Hungry. Like he wanted to touch but knew the danger.
Instead, he cleared his throat and looked away, fumbling with the speaker cables. "You sure these are the right wattage?"
Mia crossed the room slowly, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "Positive," she said softly, standing behind him. "Need help testing the sound?"
When he turned, her chest nearly brushed his arm.
"Okay," he said, voice tight. "But we're probably gonna need to... uh... secure the placement."
Mia smiled, brushing past him and deliberately leaning forward to adjust the speaker on the shelf. She knew what it looked like from behind. She could feel the way her shirt lifted and tightened. When she straightened, his face was flushed.
"You good?" she asked.
He nodded, stiffly. "I mean... I—yeah. I'm good."
"You sure?" she teased, stepping in front of him again. "You look hot."
"I am," he breathed. "I mean—it's hot in here. Definitely."
She leaned in, placing a hand on his chest. "Could be your body heating things up."
Will's hands stayed at his sides, clenched. "Mia..."
She tilted her head. "Yeah?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes dropped to her chest, which rose with every breath. His restraint was fraying, and she felt every ounce of his hesitation... and hunger.
"I think this shirt needs to be tested again," she said, reaching for the hem and slowly tugging it down as if it could hide what was obvious: her curves were impossible to ignore.
His eyes flared.
"Wanna help me with the bounce test?" she whispered.
Will still didn't touch her, but she stepped forward, close enough to brush against him. The fabric of her shirt rubbed between them, her breasts pressing lightly against his chest. She could feel him—tense, barely breathing.
"I'll behave," she murmured.
"You're not," he said hoarsely.
She smiled. "That's the point."
A moment passed, their bodies millimeters apart, the air thick. Mia reached for his hand and placed it lightly at her waist, guiding it upward—just enough for his fingers to feel the slope of her curves.
He didn't pull back.
His palm was warm, wide, reverent. She stepped closer, her breath brushing his neck.
"Tell me," she whispered, "can you hold all of me in just one hand?"
He exhaled slowly, eyes dark. "No," he murmured. "Not even close."
And though he didn't move farther, the way his fingers curled, hesitant but eager, told her everything she needed.
This was the beginning of the fall.
And neither of them wanted to stop it.