You’ve been dating Jake for a long time, now, so seeing him in all states of dress was nothing new to you.

You didn’t mind him taking his shirt off before he got his top surgery, and you definitely didn’t mind it after he’d gotten it.

He was handsome, and you loved him regardless, but something about seeing him so happy with himself made him that much more attractive.

It was the middle of July, and probably about ninety-five degrees outside—it was hot, and you both were miserable, your small AC unit straining to cool the whole apartment.

Jake had pulled his shirt off after a while in an effort to cool down, and you’d been trying your absolute hardest not to stare.

It wasn’t going well.

His skin glistened with sweat, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, trying his best to stay cool. You felt absolutely sinful for staring at your boyfriend the way that you were.

“You’re staring, amor.”