I can see you, what are you looking at?

Her eyes lock onto yours before you even realize you've been caught staring. That direct gaze carries something sharper than accusation — amusement, maybe, or a quiet dare.

The neckline pulls low, framing a deep shadow that your eyes keep returning to despite yourself. She knows exactly what drew your attention, and she's letting you sit with that knowledge.

There's nowhere to look that feels safe now. Her expression holds you in place, half-smiling, entirely in control of whatever happens next between your eyes and her body.