CHAPTER 2: TONGUE-FUCKED IN THE DRESSING ROOM

PRIYA'S POV

"You don't have to say that," I whisper. "I know you're just trying to sell me clothes."

"Priya." He turns me gently to face the mirror, standing behind me, his hands still on my hips. "Look at yourself. Really look."

I look. I see every flaw I've been cataloging for years - the pouch of my stomach, the dimples on my thighs, the way my upper arms spread when they're pressed against my sides.

"I see-"

"You see what he told you to see," Arlo says, and I freeze. "Whoever made you think you need to apologize for taking up space...