I know you want a piece of this

She catches you staring and doesn't look away. The fabric clings to every curve like a second skin, charcoal gray stretched tight across her hips, leaving absolutely nothing to your imagination.

You trace the line of her from waist to thigh with your eyes, that slow deliberate sweep you think she doesn't notice. She notices. Her weight shifts, one hip tilting just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

This is exactly what she wore knowing you'd see it. Knowing you'd want. The smirk pulling at her lips tells you she's already won whatever game you thought you were playing.