She had definitely kept in shape, but in the place of the scrawny, lanky teenager he remembered was a fully curved woman. She was wearing a tight T-shirt that was stretched almost obscenely over her, at least triple H sized, breasts. They were perfectly round like two heavenly spheres fighting to exit through the top of her shirt where her creamy skin overflowed into a canyon of cleavage. He couldnít even read what the shirt said it was so stretched and distorted. Her jeans hugged her hips snugly, defining her slender waistline. She was every fantasy that Jarrod had ever had pooled perfectly into one gorgeous image.