29 Changing

I almost laughed out loud at the strange idea and tossed that ludicrous thought out.

The t-shirt reached a little further past mid-thigh and covered most essentials from view.

Thank goodness.

But since I'm not wearing a bra, my nipples were showing through the shirt.

You can't really see-see it.

But it still bothered me.

The hint of peach-pinkish color contrasted against the white and, if I stood straight, you can definitely see the points.

I grunted in disappointment.

If I was at home by myself then this wouldn't be a problem.

But, unfortunately, I'm stuck in the same room with Eros.

And I feel uncomfortable exposing myself in such a way.

I sighed.

It's just nipples, I tried to convince myself.

People see nipples all the time.

You see them when women breastfeed their children, in commercials nowadays, and even singers with their nipple embellishments.

Probably nothing that he hasn't seen before.

I breathed out another sigh after encouraging myself several times that this is completely normal.

Come on, Emi.

You're 36 years old, act like it!

Checking myself in the mirror once again, I slowly opened the door and peeked my head out to look into the room.

The lighting had been moderately dimmed down.

Looking towards the bed, I felt my heart skip a beat when my eyes caught his.

Eros was already laying in the big bed, head tipped downwards to read some type of documentation in his hands.

His shirt is still missing but at least the black sheets covered a part of his abdomen from view.

I slowly stepped out of the backroom and closed the door softly in hopes of keeping my existence down to the minimum.

My fingers grabbed the white fabric at the front and lifted it upwards off of my chest so that it doesn't catch the form of my breasts.

Cautiously raising my eyes, I noted that his head was still bent.

And I found myself hunching over like the hunchback of Notre Dame to make sure my nipples didn't show.

I can just imagine how ridiculous I must look right now.

Eros picked up another set of documents on the nightstand next to his right-hand side before glancing in my direction.

I'm sure he thinks I'm out of my mind. Even I think that I'm kind of loony at this point.

From the top of my vision, I could see his eyebrow arch high in question at my slightly—scratch that—completely weird movements.

My cheeks started to heat up in embarrassment, but I swallowed that down before I could do anything stupid.

I shrugged down the strong urge to shiver under his rather animalistic perusal of my body from head to bared legs.

The room felt strangely cold and hot at the same time.

Perhaps, I was cold from the slight breeze in the air and hot from Eros' unshakable staring.

Doesn't he feel the need to blink?

I'm tired just from watching him watch me.

I know for sure that there's no way I can deal with Eros right now if he decides to become some pheromone-induced animal and attack me.

"Come to bed," he urged, lifting the sheets on the opposite side invitingly.

If I crawled into his bed, would I be safe?

Because I couldn't figure out if he would be a gentleman and keep his hands to himself or jump me.

Perhaps, I should give him the benefit of a doubt.

He hasn't done anything for me to feel animosity towards him.

Compared to a certain group of chauvinistic assholes that manhandled me and nearly choked me to death, Eros seemed like the better choice.

I can think of several occurrences where Eros could have really caused damage to me because of my rather childish behavior, yet he chose not to.

He hasn't hit me nor has he raised his voice at me.

Werewolves aren't really known for having such a calm and cool demeanor.

They tend to be rather hot-headed, domineering and easily angered.

I find Eros to be quite different from what I expected.

Alright.

I will trust him unless he proves otherwise.

I grind my teeth together and glare almost in warning at him before slowly approaching, afraid to encroach on his property in case it would trigger his feral instincts.