Your eyes land on her and she feels it immediately — that warm flush crawling up her chest, color rising in her cheeks. She shifts her weight, fingers fidgeting at her side, caught between the urge to cover herself and the strange electricity of being truly seen.

She doesn't look away. Neither do you. The tension between her shyness and her desire pulls tight like a held breath, her body betraying exactly how much she wants your attention even as her expression pleads for mercy.

There's something devastating about a woman who blushes under your gaze but stays. She's embarrassed, yes — and she's not moving an inch.