Johnson's Pov
One day, I saw Clara cross the kitchen in one of my white dress shirts. The shirt was larger than her original size. It was literally halfway down her thighs, and every time she moved, I caught a sight of her long, smooth legs. She had a cup of coffee in her hands, but her mind was on other things. She continued to turn her head over her shoulder with a little smile on her face.
“Johnson, you are staring again,” she said quietly.
“It's hard not to,” I replied.
I sat at the little wooden table, though my body was already tense. The air in the kitchen was warm and stifling, despite coming in through the open window of cool morning air. I still could feel how she was remembered on my skin before. The breakfast I was going to prepare was the least of my thoughts.
I got on my
