Dennis

Freya stepped out of the closet, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. She stood there in an emerald green gown that hugged her curves like it was designed by the gods themselves. Her hair rolled over her shoulders in soft waves, and her lips… those damn lips were painted a shade of red that could drive any man to his knees.

“Wow…” I muttered, unable to hide the way my eyes drank her in.

She smirked slightly, adjusting one of her earrings. “You’re staring, Dennis.” ...