Page 82 of The Snowball Effect

Emma groaned, dropping her head back against the chair, leaving her eye level with Regan’s chest. Which she immediately looked away from, staring straight up at the ceiling.

She didn’t hate her body; she’d come a long way from the issues she’d had with herself in school. She’d towered over most of her classmates when she’d hit her growth spurt, pushing her to nearly her full height. Her breasts had grown insanely fast, as well as her butt, hips, and thighs, and her skin still had the stretch marks to prove it.

“Regan, come on. I’m five-ten and not a waif, like Sutton is. We both know that.”

Still, Regan stared down at her, confusion clear. “Yeah, I obviously know you aren’t awaif.” She then frowned and muttered, “What a strange word choice.”

Before Emma could interject, Regan’s gaze returned to her. And not her face, either.

No, Regan’s intent stare started at her thighs. “I really like your body, though. Why do you think I’m being disingenuous?”

Emma reallywantedto make an easy quip back. But she found herself incapable of doing so, as Regan’s eyes slowly took her in, moving up her body as if studying…

“Art,” Regan’s voice was so low. Low enough, Emma wasn’t certain she was supposed to overhear her. “You look like all of those classic sculptures of women in a museum. Like a piece of art.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat as the pit of her stomach tingled at the compliment. At what – insanely – might have been the most beautiful sentiment anyone had ever expressed about her.

And it felt – it felt damningly uncomfortable. But not in the same way she’d been uncomfortable at Kimberly’s. This was far more… aware. It made her shiver, an unexpected heat sparking alive inside of her.

Emma minutely shook her head, denying its very existence.

“You have an incredible figure,” Regan continued in that quiet, thoughtful, slightly raspy tone. “Which you have to know; most of your outfits highlight the perfect curve of your waist.”

When those dark eyes fell to her chest, she shivered. Then cursed herself for it before she silently cursed Regan. Why was shelookingat her like that?!

It was – it was wildly inappropriate.

And it was very, very wrong for a straight woman to stare at another woman like this, a voice said in the back of Emma’s mind.

Before she thought… well, this wasRegan. So.

“And your breasts are out of this world. Just – so impressive. They look soft,” Regan finally said, staring –

Emma followed her gaze, feeling her own breathing grow more erratic at the way she was being watched as she realized that from Regan’s vantage point, she had a clear shot…

“Are you staring down my shirt?”

She felt flustered, both baffled and heated. Emma tried to tell herself the heat was from frustration, but –

“Oh my god!” Regan shouted out as her solid presence disappeared from Emma’s side.

She watched, wide-eyed, as Regan pitched herself off the side of the chair, knocking into the small display of books behind her. All of the books joined Regan on her descent to crash onto the floor.

Emma jumped up in alarm, sending her own potential book purchases falling down.

If she were any other customer, she’d be annoyed by the chaos. But, as it was, she could only be grateful for this moment cutting through whatever insane, dangerous place her mind had started to go to.

“Are you okay?” She asked, genuine concern starting to set in when Regan didn’t immediately pop up.

Instead, she stared dazedly up at Emma, blinking several times, her mouth agape but not saying anything.

“Did you hit your head?” She pressed, leaning down next to Regan as her worry grew.

Regan looked at her, eyes moving over her face slowly before she slowly shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m – I’m totally good.”

Emma offered her a hand, which Regan stared at with wide eyes for several long moments. Long enough that anxiety started to set in; was it now going to be her turn to escort Regan to the hospital? Finally, thankfully, she reached out and slid her palm against Emma’s, letting herself be hauled up.

When Regan was on her feet – looking shell-shocked – Emma peered down at her, scanning for injuries. Regan seemed fine, though. Just… wide-eyed, staring back at Emma.

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