You stand next to her in the bustling food court, watching her sulk in that flimsy mint green sundress you insisted she try. The spaghetti straps threaten to snap under the weight of her insane curves, and the skirt barely covers the thiccness that commands way too much attention.

She glares at the guys stealing glances. “One more look, and I’m Kamehameha-ing the whole place,” she growls low, lips twitching in frustration.

Suddenly, she clings to your arm, pressing her warm body against you like a second skin. Her glowing hair brushes your cheek as she mutters, “I liked it better when we were naked in the forest.”

You squeeze her hand, feeling the pulse of her restrained power—and the softness beneath all that strength.