My confidence level is unmatched

You can't take your eyes off those curves, the kind that make your hands forget where to stop.

You feel it before you even realize — a pull low in your stomach, something instinctive and hungry. You're looking at a body that knows exactly what it does to you, and that knowledge sits on every inch of it like a second skin.

You recognize the confidence immediately, not performed but lived, worn the way desire wears patience. You want to trace what your eyes are already memorizing. You stay exactly where you are, and you don't apologize for staring.